Jessica
Offerings should be made to the Mother Goddess during the time of reaping to show thy thankfulness for a successful harvest.
Goody Fletcher, Book of Useful Household Tips
Derrick wanted a drink. I told him there was no better place to get one than Tuesday Night Trivia at the Brewport.
“That isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he growled.
“Look, I don’t want to go, either,” I said as I locked Pye up into my house, an act he was expressing his outrage against by meowing loudly behind the front door. “But I never miss Tuesday Night Trivia, so if I don’t show up, it’s going to look weird—like something is up.”
“You mean like you just got a new boyfriend and you want to stay home so he can ravage you?”
“Um . . .” I paused before dropping my keys into my bag. Maybe I was making the wrong decision. “I wasn’t aware that was an option.”
“It is. It would be safer and therefore more sensible. Also vastly more pleasurable.”
He still seemed a bit shaken by what he’d seen back at the shop. Not the part where I’d found the absolute perfect dress for Gabby—the part where Esther had performed her telekinesis.
That had shaken me, too, though not as much as it seemed to have shaken him, since I’d seen her do it before.
“I agree,” I said. “But Esther’s going to be there. Her parents own the place and are making her work at the hostess station. Don’t you think we should go and keep an eye on her? Especially since Rosalie and Billy might be there.”
He looked almost physically pained. “Might be?”
“They’re on a team, yeah,” I said. “They don’t always show up. I wouldn’t expect them to this week, with all the Tricentennial stuff going on. But if they do, do we really want them around Esther without us being there to keep an eye on—?”
“Trivia it is.” He held out his arm to escort me down my porch steps.
I smiled and laid my hand upon his arm, like he was a gentleman and I was a lady. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“But I’d rather stay home tonight and ravage you.”
My pulse quickened. So much for him being a gentleman.
“Obviously I’d prefer that, too,” I said. “But I think we’ll have plenty of time for that after Trivia. Should we walk? It’s a nice night, and the restaurant’s not that far—”
Derrick cast an aggrieved look in the direction of his rental car. “Walking is fine by me.”
We had to go almost half a block before I could no longer hear the sound of Pye’s piteous wailing at being left inside on such a cool, clear night.
“So do you feel a little better about our chances of beating this thing—whatever it is—now that you’ve seen what Esther can do?” I asked as we turned onto the coastal road. Though I couldn’t yet see them, the sound of the waves grew louder. And the night air, which I’d thought pleasantly cool before, grew colder.
“I don’t know what to feel now,” Derrick said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
I laughed—but more with uneasiness than anything else. “Oh, come on. You must have. You’ve traveled all over the world doing this, haven’t you? Surely—”
He cut me off. “No. Never. Not like that.”
“Well.” I was hugging myself, but I wasn’t certain if it was because of the chill of the wind coming off the Sound—or fear. “That bodes well for us, doesn’t it? She’s on our side, so if she’s the most powerful witch you’ve ever seen, that must mean we can’t lose.”
He stopped walking and looked down at me in the amber light from the streetlamp. The nearly full moon was hidden behind swiftly moving dark clouds. A mist was beginning to roll in from the sea, and I could smell its briny scent, like shucked oysters—only these oysters smelled as if they’d sat out a bit too long in the sun.
“We can most definitely lose,” he said, his gaze hooded and unreadable in the half-light. “And more than just this town’s ranking as a cute stop for leaf peepers. We could lose our lives. She nearly brought the ceiling of your shop down on our heads.”
“Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “Esther would never—”
“Of course she wouldn’t—not on purpose. But she’s a kid. And like most kids, she doesn’t know her own strength. If she gets emotional, there’s no telling what kind of damage she could do.” He nodded toward my bag. “What does her letter to the mayor say?”
I grasped my tote. “Are you kidding me? We can’t read her letter. That’s private.”
He frowned. “The fate of your town might rest on what that kid has written in that letter, and you’re not going to take a peek?”
“No. I would never!”
Then, just as I’d begun to worry that I’d put all my trust into someone who would open letters that weren’t addressed to him, he snaked out an arm, pulled me close to him, and buried his lips in my neck.
“That’s why you’re the Chosen One,” he murmured, and the feel of his skin against mine sent shivers of a completely different—and entirely pleasurable—kind through me.
“Get a room, you two!”
Derrick and I broke apart as a car swerved up close to the sidewalk where we stood. I looked over to see Dina leering at me from the passenger seat, while Mark sat behind the wheel.
“Hey, lovebirds,” she called through the window she’d put down. “Headed our way?”
I hoped the light was dim enough that neither of them would notice my flaming cheeks.
“Oh, hi,” I said. “I don’t know. Where you headed?”
“You know where we’re headed, byotch.” I heard the rear passenger door closest to us pop as she unlocked it. “Get in, losers!”
I smirked and reached for the door handle, until I noticed Derrick’s hesitation to follow me—and his confused look. “Oh,” I said to him, remembering his upbringing, and that he’d probably never seen Mean Girls. “That’s a line from a movie Dina and I liked as kids.”
“Oh.” He didn’t look particularly comforted—especially when he followed me into the car only to hear Mark cry, only half sarcastically, “Dude! How’s it hanging?”
But I’m not sure anything could have prepared Derrick for the shock of the fact that Get In, Losers was our trivia team’s name, and was shining down from all the flat-screen TVs (of which there were dozens) in the Brewport, along with our team stats (which weren’t great).
A large family-style restaurant built on a deck right over the Sound, with a dock leading from it, the Brewport offered everything from craft beers and burgers to a video game arcade guaranteed to keep the kids occupied while their parents watched their favorite sports team (or played Trivia). Packed with beachgoers in the summertime, business was no less slow in the golden glow of autumn. The beginning of hockey and end of baseball season always left the place slammed, right on through to the Superbowl and basketball playoffs.
But everything stopped for Tuesday Night Trivia.
Esther’s parents’ team, the Brewport Bruisers, included their friends as well as waitstaff and bartenders from the restaurant. They won nearly every week.
But that never stopped Dina and Yasmin—who were both competitive by nature—from strategizing over how Get In, Losers might steal the Bruisers’ crown.
Dina was quizzing Derrick as Mark and her brother, Sal, were up at the bar, securing beer and wine for our high top.
“So what are your areas of expertise?” Dina asked Derrick.
Cunnilingus, I thought.
But Derrick only said, “I don’t know. I’ve never played trivia before.”
“Never played trivia before?” Yasmin echoed. She had been at the restaurant for an hour already with Sal and the kids—who, having finished their burgers, were off in the video arcade section, happily assassinating digital aliens with their friends—and was on her third glass of pinot grigio. “Not even Trivial Pursuit?”
“No.” Derrick smiled at her, definitely giving the appearance of paying attention to their conversation.
But I could see his gray-eyed gaze quickly sweeping the room, taking in the other tables and teams, trying to figure out if there were any supernatural—or otherwise—threats he needed to worry about.
He’d already clocked Esther at the hostess booth. She’d seated us, assuming a politely distant professional demeanor as she brought us to our table and handed us our menus. I’d complimented her on how she looked in her Brewport uniform of khaki pants and navy polo shirt, and received in return an icy “Thank you.”
Esther hated her new job.
“Well, it’s simple,” Yasmin was saying to Derrick as she pointed to the flat screens overhead. “Dr. Steve—he’s our local veterinarian, but also the trivia master—will project the questions up on the screens, and then we write our answers on here.” She showed him our answer sheet. “When we’re done, each team hands their answers in. Then Dr. Steve tabulates them, and the team with the most right answers wins a really great prize.”
I smiled at Derrick. “A Brewport T-shirt in the color of your choice.”
“Every team member gets one!” Yasmin cried excitedly. “So far we’ve never won.”
“Well,” Derrick said with mock seriousness. “Then I guess we’d better win tonight.”
I grinned at him, and tried to ignore the flutter I felt in my heart when he grinned back. This was bad. This was so bad. Dina couldn’t be right. I couldn’t like Derrick—not that way. It never worked out when I liked a guy. It always ended in disaster—occasionally spectacularly. I couldn’t let this end the same way, especially with innocent teenagers involved.
But surely it wouldn’t—not this time. Derrick was leaving soon anyway, regardless of how things turned out. He had to get back to his important job of saving other towns from demonic ruin. So probably I was worrying unnecessarily. Probably everything was going to be—
“Jumbo nacho platter for the Sisters In Law?” a server asked, before sliding a heavy plate in front of us. “Compliments of the house.”
“Yay,” Yasmin cried. “Yep, that’s us!”
“Oh, it’s so sweet of them to remember,” Dina said, before digging in. “Thanks!”
Derrick looked down at the heaping plate of gooey deliciousness before us and raised a questioning eyebrow. Before I had a chance to explain, an attractive Black woman appeared at our table, her hands resting on the slim shoulders of a very embarrassed teenaged girl. It was Esther and her mother, Virginia Dodge.
“Oh, good,” said Mrs. Dodge. “They brought your nachos.”
“Thanks so much, Virginia.” Yasmin’s mouth was full, but that didn’t stop her from gushing, “You really don’t have to keep doing this every time.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mrs. Dodge, soft and curvy in all the places her daughter was sharp and angular, also shared the same intelligent eyes and warmly generous mouth as Esther. “After what you did for us? I think we would have had to move if you two hadn’t cleared up that fence line situation. And now you, Jessica Gold, agreeing to be Esther’s mentor? Do you know how much money that’s going to save us? College tuition has gotten outrageous, and of course this one wants to go to one of the most expensive universities in the country. And we have her little brothers to send, as well. We owe you a lot more than nachos! Please order anything you like, on the house.”
I smiled while Esther said nothing, merely looked as if she wished the floor of the restaurant would open and drop her straight into the sea.
“You don’t have to do that, Mrs. Dodge,” I said. “It’s my pleasure. Esther is a remarkable girl.” In more ways than her mother knew. “She really doesn’t need any mentoring. But I’m glad to do it, just the same.”
“We’ll just be happy if you can get her out of her shell.” Mrs. Dodge wrapped her arms around her daughter and squeezed her tight, while Esther rolled her eyes. “She’s so shy. We’re hoping her working here a few nights a week will help.”
Derrick glanced questioningly at me. Esther, shy?
I grinned back. I know.
“Mom.” Esther wiggled out of her mother’s arms. It was amusing to see how the normally poised and confident girl reverted into someone completely different when her parents were around. “Can I go back to work now?”
“Oh, yes, go.” Mrs. Dodge patted Esther on the shoulder as the girl returned to the hostess booth. “And please, Jessica, call me Virginia—or better yet, Ginny. Reggie”—Reginald Dodge, Esther’s father—“is around here somewhere, I know he’s going to want to stop by to thank you as well, but there’s a problem with one of the ATMs. Are you all ready to get your butts beat tonight by the Bruisers?”
“Not gonna happen!” Yasmin drained her wineglass. “Tonight’s the night for the Losers!”
“Sure, it is,” Ginny said, smiling sweetly. “Have you checked out the categories?” She pointed to the largest screen above our heads just before hurrying back to her own table. “I have a feeling we all might be in trouble!”
I did not agree. Tonight, Dr. Steve had selected his categories based on a holiday theme, and the holiday he’d chosen was Halloween.
So with categories like Haunted Houses, Ghosts and Ghouls, Spooky Music, I Want Candy, and Witches, it seemed like the Losers might have an unfair advantage over everyone else, even if none of them knew it.
“Thank God,” Yasmin said, confidently scrawling our team name at the top of our answer sheet. “Things might finally go our way for once.”
“Have you ever considered changing your team name to something that doesn’t have the word loser in it?” Derrick asked.
“Why would we do that?”
“Because it could be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe it’s why you never win.”
Yasmin shot him a dirty look. “Jess, I’m not sure about this guy. If you want to keep hanging out with him, you might have to leave him at home next time.”
She was only half joking. Yasmin took her trivia very seriously.
I was giving Derrick a mock-reproachful look when Sal and Mark appeared with the beer and wine.
“You girls are never gonna guess who I ran into at the bar.” Mark slid wineglasses and frozen beer steins in front of us.
“If you’re going to say the mayor, don’t.” Dina was pouring pinot grigio from the carafe Sal had brought over into our glasses. “I already spotted her over at the table with the rest of the Right Honorables.”
“The mayor’s here?” I looked around and saw her sitting with her wife and several of West Harbor’s judges, along with the city attorney and a couple council members.
Would this be a good time to sneak Esther’s letter to Margo Dunleavy? Probably not, with Esther so close by at the hostess booth. She hadn’t wanted her parents to know anything about her magic.
But if I could catch Margo alone . . .
Sal looked, too. “Oh, damn. Half of city hall is here. They’re great at this. We’re gonna get creamed.”
“No, we’re not.” Yasmin was exuding confidence. “What do they know about witches? We’ve got two of the witchiest witches in town sitting right here next to us. We’re going to ice those nerds.”
“The mayor’s not who I was talking about,” Mark said. “I meant Rosalie Hopkins.”
“Rosalie really is here?” The hair on the back of my neck rose. I’d known she’d be there, of course, even hearing her name caused me anxiety. That woman had given me paranormal PTSD.
“Yeah. She just went back to her seat at that table over there with the Veuve Clique Ohs.”
I swung around to look, then let out an inward groan. Rosalie was there, all right, sitting in one of her many pastel-colored cashmere sweater sets and sipping champagne while idly chatting with her friends from the Yacht Club. Billy—who’d evidently come straight from work, since he was wearing a suit—seemed to sense my gaze and began turning his head toward me.
“Oh, God.” I ducked behind a menu, pretending to be searching for something to order.
“Subtle,” remarked Derrick.
“I don’t care.” I kept my face buried in the menu. “Is he still looking over here?”
“Uh.” Derrick shook his head. “No. One of his kids just came up and is talking to him. At least I think it’s his kid. A young girl in a cheerleading outfit?”
“Lizzie.” I lowered the menu and peeked. Billy was engrossed in conversation with his daughter, who was a smaller, perkier version of Rosalie. Dressed in a West Harbor High junior varsity cheerleading uniform, her blond hair was swept into a high ponytail tied with a large maroon bow. Lizzie had a sweet face and, from all I’d heard on the teen circuit, an even sweeter disposition.
But it was the adoring look on Billy that got to me. Billy clearly cherished his kids. Rosalie had given him exactly what he’d always wanted: a family of his own to love. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Or maybe the spell Dina and I had cast had actually worked.
“Good,” I said, as I turned back to my menu and began to read it, though I mostly knew it by heart.
Derrick raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Good what?”
“I mean . . . the food is good here.” I hadn’t meant to share my musings on Billy out loud. “Do you want something more to eat than just nachos? I really like the burger.”
“Sure,” he said, grinning at something he seemed to find amusing. “Let’s make it two.”
I signaled our server and put in our order for two cheeseburgers with fries just as Dr. Steve, the trivia master, began welcoming everyone over the microphone. The game was starting.
Meanwhile, Mark was complaining. “I really don’t know what you all have against Rosalie.”
“Shhh.” Dina was almost as intense during Trivia as her sister-in-law, because it was one of the only nights Mark took off from the restaurant. “Dr. Steve is speaking.”
“She’s just a very nice person when you get to know her,” Mark said.
“Mark, what are you talking about?”
“Rosalie.”
“What?”
“Rosalie Hopkins.”
Dr. Steve had uploaded the first question. It flashed onto the screens above our heads in the Haunted House category. Dina spun around on her stool and hissed, so she wouldn’t be heard by nearby teams, “Sleepy Hollow. It’s Sleepy Hollow, isn’t it?”
Derrick agreed. “I was going to say Sleepy Hollow.”
“Write that down,” Dina commanded Yasmin, who had the pen. “Sleepy Hollow!”
“Wait a minute,” I said. Something was bothering me. “Mark, what were you just saying about Rosalie?”
“I said she’s actually very sweet once you get to know her.” Mark chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of nachos. “And Billy. He’s such a great guy. I don’t know how we’ve overlooked that for so long.”
“Mark,” I said. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling at me. “Never better. I was just thinking. Don’t you agree that Rosalie and Billy are great? Just a really cool couple. I don’t know why we don’t hang out with them more.”
Dr. Steve posted another question, and Dina whipped around. “Who is the earliest recorded witch? You guys? First recorded witch? Hecate?”
“Actually,” Derrick said, “it’s the Witch of Endor in the Bible, First Book of Samuel.”
Dina gasped. “It is! You’re right. Yasmin, write that down.”
“Uh,” I said. “Mark, can you ask Dina what you just asked me? About Rosalie and Billy.”
“Sure.” Mark turned toward Dina. “Honey, how come we don’t hang out with Rosalie and Billy?”
Dina looked away from the screen above our heads long enough to stare at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“They’re such a nice couple. We should really have them over sometime.”
“Are you kidding? Now you decide to mess with me?”
“I’m not messing with you.” Mark’s eyes were wide—but I noticed they also had a slightly glassy haze to them, like the streetlamp outside, as if the mist from the sea had rolled in and was obscuring their light. “Maybe we should invite them to the restaurant for Sunday Gravy.”
“Rosalie and Billy. Billy Walker?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, smiling pleasantly. “Why not?”
Dina’s gaze flicked over toward me. “What’s wrong with him?”
Concerned, I shook my head. “I don’t know. Mark. Mark.”
It was loud in the restaurant, with the buzz of all the teams, the drone of the baseball playoffs on the TV screens that weren’t projecting the trivia questions, the bing-bong of the games over in the video arcade, and Dr. Steve’s voice over the microphone. Plus loud rock was being pumped out over the Brewport’s sound system: I recognized their classic rock station as being from the same music streaming service I used at Enchantments, only mine was set to Coffee Shop.
But Mark was only sitting a foot or two away from me. He should have been able to hear me. It still took a few moments for him to respond. When he did, it was with the same slow, glassy-eyed look I’d noticed before.
“Yeah?” he asked, and took a tiny sip of his beer.
“Mark,” I asked. “How long have you felt this way about Rosalie and Billy?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, thoughtfully. Mark never did anything thoughtfully. He did it quick, and thought about it later. “I guess it’s been coming on slowly over time. But it really struck me just now, up at the bar, when I ran into Rosalie, and she gave me one of her homemade muffins. Those things are delicious.”