No panicking. At least, not today. Breathe. Ask for help.
“If this was your mom, what would you do next?”
His face slackens with surprise at my question. “My mom is a lawyer-sommelier in Manhattan who still overnights me care packages of bagels, so I’d be buying a one-way flight to LaGuardia and renewing my New York Public Library card right about now.”
“That explains both too much and not enough about you.”
“I’m an enigma.”
“Wait, you get baked goods shipped all the way from New York City? Betrayal.”
“Not important.” He grows serious. “You know what is? The quality time has done wonders for her morale. Today was an improvement, if you can believe it.”
“Message received. I’m staying in town tonight to help Arna Jean plan the summer menu, so I’ll be here tomorrow.” Which also gives me a chance to check on the shop. The Bookwitch has a habit of burning sage too close to the paper cupcake liners. Not that I don’t already get plenty of Apothakery updates from the Bookwitch’s daily posts. She showcases new items every week with the hashtag#fareforthot. The latest specialty is a blueberry and yellow corn croissant. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sit in my truck and be sad.”
He throws on his Illestevas. Even with the somber mood, he lookslike an off-duty model. “Between your magic, Carolina’s healthcare, and my sunny demeanor, we’ll solve what’s going on with your mom. You’ll have dozens of Mother’s Days ahead of you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
He shrugs. “I know when I’m the personality hire.”
“Date?” I ask, nodding at his suit. It’s Friday night, after all.
“Not tonight. I’m going to sit at home, divinely alone, with a bottle of sauvignon blanc.”
“That’s a first.”
“Follow my example. When’s the last time you did something for the first time?” He winks and takes off toward the town square.
As I watch him disappear down the sidewalk, my phone dings with a text before I can think too hard about his question. The screen shows a message from an unknown local number.
Oh no. It can’t be.
Hell is surely freezing over.
Greetings, Ms. Frost.
Postman Claywell helped me purchase a mobile cellular device.
Sincerely,
Mr. Knight
My stomach flips.The Warlock of Foxe Holler bought a cell phone. For me? Ha. Not likely. And the formality with this guy.Phew. But knowing his texts are as on brand as the letter he sent to the Apothakery all those weeks ago is weirdly comforting. At least we’ve upgraded fromRegretfully.
So we’re doing this, then, are we?
Congrats sir
your new phone can make calls too
even with no cell service you can use WiFi
ask Ms. Zeen to show you
Pending dots dance across the screen. I hold my breath. If he went to these lengths to reach me, I hope everything is all right. This is the longest I’ve stayed in town to visit my mom, and I bet poor Lazlo is eating nothing but tea and biscuits with Governess Zeen. Or Goldfish. Honestly, the entire Manor is likely to fall apart without my nonnegotiable mealtimes together.
Heavens above, I think I might actually miss the farmhouse.
