Page 3 of Grimoires & Glamoury

Kathleen selected a slice of cheese. “Anything interesting happening with your witchy book club?”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t say.”

“Aw, come on!” she complained. “No wand duels at midnight, no territory skirmishes for you to settle, oh wise one?”

“You’ve been reading way too much fiction.”

“That’d be your fault,” she cheerfully pointed out. “You’re the one who brings me all the paranormal romance books.”

“Keeps you out of trouble,” I said. “Mostly.”

“Seems to me you’ve got plenty on your plate as is,” she pointed out. “Running your own business and riding herd on the magickal community. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s not.” I blew out a tired breath. “Especially since the person who takes notes for me during the meetings was a no-show tonight.”

“I didn’t know you had a secretary for the community stuff,” Kathleen said, urging more food on me.

“Shelby Murphy. She’s damn good at it. Keeps me organized, emails me the notes from the monthly meetings, and makes sure I’m up to date on all the goings on with the covens. Best of all Shelby is neutral when it comes to witchy politics; and she’s discreet.”

“Sweetie.” Kathleen rested her hand on my elbow. “Surely you know that you don’t have to worry that I’ll start gossiping about you to the rest of the neighborhood. I’m the very soul of discretion.”

That made me smile. “Oh, I know.”

“I clocked you that first summer you moved in, by the way. I was up sitting on my back porch—couldn’t sleep—and there you were in your backyard, lighting candles under the full moon and whistling up the wind.”

Glancing over at her, I smiled. “Were you shocked?”

“Nope.” Kathleen shook her head. “First time I went to your bookstore confirmed it for me. The atmosphere, the way you decorated it, right down to the purple door and trim on the building. Plus, you’ve got that whole section of metaphysical and magick books.”

I did indeed. Those specific books were tucked in the back of the store, but you had to look to find them.

“Then there’s the crystals and other tchotchkes you have around here,” Kathleen said pointing to the eaves of the back porch. “Like all of your fancy wind chimes. There’s one with faeries, one with the phases of the moon and that big one with the pentagrams on it.”

“The wind chimes are where only friends and family would see it,” I said, sipping my wine. “I’m the soul of discretion, sugar.”

Kathleen threw back her head and laughed. “Honey, between that, and your looks—”

“You mean my silver hair?”

“I like your hair,” Kathleen said. “It’s not everyday you see a thirty-year-old with a full head of natural silver hair.”

“I’m thirty-six,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, and I was fifty before I ditched the dye bottle and let my gray hair grow in.”

“It’s a family trait,” I explained. “All the women in the Southern family turn gray by the time they’re twenty-five.”

“Maybe it’s your style,” Kathleen said, thinking it over. “I mean you do wear lots of dark colors, flowing dresses and romantic styles. It reminds me of Stevie Nicks. Plus, there’s the vibes you put off... it’s obvious that you’re a Witch.”

“That’s true. I’ve never hidden that fact, but my other...position, within the community,” I explained. “That’s less well known.”

“I figured.” Kathleen nodded. “Secret’s safe with me. It’s the least I can do considering all the support you were to me last year.”

I reached out my hand and took hers. “You’re getting stronger every day,” I told her.

Kathleen blew out a long breath. “Nobody tells you that surgery and then radiation will put you on your ass for months afterward. They say things like: ‘Hey, you won’t lose your hair. You might feel tired after a treatment. Try going to bed earlier.’ No one warns you what four weeks of radiation treatments does to you physically. How exhausting it truly is...I lost count of the times people said to me, ‘at least it’s not chemo.’”

“People are assholes,” I told her, giving her fingers a squeeze.