Page 137 of Flirty Fall Fling

“I know,” she says. “I was able to get my loans deferred until January. Once I have a few months of income here, I’m going to apply for an income-based pay schedule. I need a miracle.”

I move toward her and grab her hand, closing my eyes. I set an intention, putting good vibes and prosperity into the universe for her. “It’s going to happen.”

“I love you, Blaire. But I don’t know if you can really help me with this problem, and that’s okay. You’re a fixer—I get it.” She’s kind when she says it.

“Whether you believe any of this or not, I just set the best intentions for you. Come January, you won’t have to worry about a single thing. I promise.”

She laughs, but I’m not joking.

“It’s done,” I tell her, booping her nose.

She shakes her head. “You know, actually, you might be a psycho.”

“Shut the hell up,” I say.

“Oh, before I forget, here’s your updated schedule.”

She offers me my leather-bound appointment book. I flip it open to this week, then turn each page, seeing every time is filled through the end of the year.

“Uh …”

“I know,” she says, grinning. “You’re popular.”

She busts out singing a song from Wicked.

I shake my head. “This is overwhelming.”

“Blaire Wardwell is the witch of the season. Might be the witch of the century.”

“Please don’t wish that upon me,” I mutter.

“Pop-uuu-lar,” she sings, tidying up the loose pens on the counter.

My phone rings, and it’s from a local number that I don’t recognize. I answer.

“Blaire Wardwell?” a deep voice says.

“Speaking.”

“This is Brandon with Antique Restoration, the contractor who’s supposed to replace your roof. Pine Haven Historical Society said they’d prefer for all work to be done after Halloween since the house is a centerpiece of the town. I just wanted to check and make sure that works for you.”

“Oh, sure. How long do you think it will take?” I ask.

“Two days. My guys work fast,” he says. “I want to get it done before it starts snowing though. Let’s plan for November sixth. I’ll call you first to confirm and for you to make your payment.”

I smile. “Sure. Thanks. How much is it again?”

Papers rustle in the background. “Came to forty-eight thousand dollars with the peaks and custom shingles. I’ll just need a wire transfer or a check.”

“Perfect. Thank you again!”

The call ends.

A part of me relaxes as I took care of something my aunt had put off for years. I think about everything that’s happened since I moved to Pine Haven. Deep inside, I know she’d be so damn proud of me, and that thought keeps me going. My parents are thrilled, especially my dad.

At a quarter to ten, the buzzer at the back door goes off.

“Shit. Delivery.” Winter is already moving that way. “If the supplier shorted us again, I’m going to have you hex him.”