A strong scent of incense and candle wax lingered in the air. Brenna inhaled. The smell always helped to clear her head. She dumped her handbag onto the glass-topped counter and massaged her forehead with both hands.
The phone rang. The shrill sound made Brenna jump. She made her way to the back of the counter and lifted the handset. “Potions and Charms, Brenna speaking.”
“Well, it is about time.”
Brenna sighed. The nasal voice that greeted her belonged to her lawyer, Mr. Hector.
“The shop doesn’t open until nine, Mr. Hector.”
“I don’t know why you didn’t just give me your home number.”
“If I did, you’d be trying to call me at Goddess knows what time.”
“You should be up early. Not lazing around.”
“What do you want?” Brenna rolled her eyes and flicked a stray hair off her arm.
“You know what I want!”
“Look, I’ll be there at twelve-thirty.”
“You better be.” Hector ended the call.
Brenna looked at the handset and frowned. “Good riddance!” She hissed and slammed the phone into its cradle.
Brenna flipped on all the lights revealing shelves of spells, oils, books, and herbs. Large glass cabinets displayed crystals, ritual tools, and ornate Celtic jewelry. She walked into the tiny kitchen at the rear of the shop and scoured the mess she’d made last time she was there. A faint damp smell hung in the air. A pile of dishes in dire need of a scrub filled the sink. Not the most accomplished cleaner, she’d thought of hiring a maid many times but couldn’t afford it. She searched under the sink for a pair of rubber gloves and slid them on then. Then, pulling a face, she dislodged a sodden teabag out of the kitchen plughole and began to wash the dishes.
The tinkle of the bell above the shop door made Brenna freeze. She’d forgotten to lock the door. She ripped the sudsy gloves off and grabbed a broom and held it out as a weapon and made her way into the shop. She let out a sigh, Maggie, was standing in the middle of the shop holding a large brown paper bag.
“Did somebody forget their medication this morning?” Maggie said. She had her red hair tied in her usual braided pigtails. She had on a long flowing purple dress adorned with multiple beaded necklaces. Her slender face was almost dominated by vivid hazel eyes. Brenna always thought of her as hippy who could rock it on a catwalk.
Brenna knew her face was turning red and dropped the broom.
“Just a little on edge. Sorry.” Brenna felt her face grow hotter.
“Don’t worry about it. You think I was Hector?”
“Well no, never mind. Just had a bad dream, that’s all.”
Brenna smoothed her hair and took a deep breath. You have to relax. She couldn’t let herself become so strung out. Maggie dumped the paper bag on the counter and pulled out two paper cups full of steaming coffee and two filled bagels.
“Looks like you could do with this,” Maggie said as she passed Brenna one of the coffees.
“You read my mind.” Brenna sipped the coffee while Maggie tore into one of the croissants.
“I guess you can have one of these.” Maggie slid a bagel Brenna’s way. Brenna smiled and gratefully accepted the food. “So, when’s your appointment?”
“Twelve thirty.”
“How much do you want for the land?”
“Well, I have no idea what it’s worth. I could do with the money though. Any money. The first thing I’d do is pay off all our bills.”
“That’s nice, Bren. But you don’t have to.”
“I want to, but I’ve been having second thoughts about selling the land.”
“Really?” Maggie almost sputtered her mouthful onto the floor.
Brenna nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “I have this feeling about the place. You know, like I should at least take a look at it.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“Well, I was planning on spending a week there. I was going to ask if you could mind the fort.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thank you. Oh, and would you mind feeding Tiddles for me?”
“Sure. I’d love to spend some time with him!” Maggie stuffed another large portion of her breakfast in her mouth.
“I’m sure he’d love that too.” Brenna laughed.
Brenna finished her coffee then dragged the open sign out onto the footpath. The sun made her squint. She looked around to check for any potential customers but couldn’t see a single soul. Still early yet, but she didn’t have high hopes for the day. She strolled back inside and looked around for something to do. Maggie had already finished cleaning the kitchen, superwoman that she was.
Dust and bits and pieces dotted the floorboards. Brenna picked the broom up from the floor and began to sweep. The bell above the door jingled and an old woman with a severe-looking face entered the shop. Her blue hair was cut short and was topped off with a round purple hat. The woman stared right at Brenna with a pinched look.
“Typical for a witch to be holding a broom,” hissed the old lady. Brenna stopped sweeping and studied the woman’s face. There was no evidence of a smile, past or present, as she had no smile lines around her mouth, though she certainly had some deep frown lines around her watery blue eyes. Brenna could think of a million things to say to the lady but decided to ignore her. She continued to sweep.
“That’s right, you can ignore me now, but if I had my way, I’d see to it that you were burned at the stake!”
Brenna dropped the broom and walked right up to the woman. Her blood boiled. She pointed a long slender finger at the woman’s chest.
“It’s people like you that should have been burned at stakes. Not me. People like me don’t go around threatening innocent people with this old rubbish. Witches are not what you make them out to be, which is why we don’t melt when it rains, and we drive cars not brooms. We don’t sacrifice animals and we don’t eat children! However, I am willing to make an exception for ignorant, prejudiced old ladies!”
Brenna could only imagine the look on her own face, but the woman now had wide frightened eyes. Brenna took a deep breath. She started to open her mouth again, but the woman turned and scurried out of the shop before Brenna could say anything else. A part of her was proud of what she had said, but another part knew she went a bit over the top. Brenna sighed and kept sweeping. It wasn’t the first person to accost her for being a witch, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“Brenna!” a high-pitched voice called out. Brenna looked up to see Miranda Pendalton jog over.
“Oh hey, Miranda.”
Miranda waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that old wet sock. She’s got a stick from the bitter tree rammed up you know where.”
Brenna laughed, relieving some of her tension. “How are you, Miranda?”
“Well, I’ve been better. I was wondering if you and Maggie were busy?”
Brenna glanced around the otherwise empty street and the empty store. “I think we can carve out some time.”
“Great. I need help.”
“Come on in.”
Miranda ran a finger along the shelves and counters as she always did. She stopped at a display of incense and picked up a packet of Nag Champa.