Spells and Scones Read Online Free PDF Page A

whispered, “Do you know that woman sitting next to Margie?”
    He nosed my chin, then nuzzled into my neck.
    I tried to listen to Dr. Dana drone on about how spouses—and significant others if they were really, you know,
significant
—should exchange passwords for e-mail and social media, as well as grant each other access to voice mail. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d found my little Mungo.
    Of course, he’d actually found me. I’d later discovered that’s how it works with familiars, after he’d wiggled his furry behind into my new life on my very first day living in Savannah. That was before I even knew I was a witch. Cute as a button, he’d bounded down my driveway and then kept mysteriously showing up in the backseat of my Volkswagen Bug when we were getting ready for the grand opening of the Honeybee. It hadn’t taken long before it was clear the little terrier and I were destined to be a team.
    My attention returned to Dr. Dana as she began to describe the difficulties she and her husband had been having before she’d discovered the joys of Radical Trust. My gaze slid to his face. How must it feel to have your spouse share your personal life in print and on the radio?
    Finally, the author finished and stepped away from the podium, water bottle in one hand and signing pen in the other. Her assistant led her to the table Croft had set up near the front of the store, and the audience rose to form a ragged line. Nate Dobbs moved to stand behind his wife, while Phoebe went to talk to Croft.
    Ben poured a cup of peach sweet tea and took it over to Dr. Dana. Leaning down, he said something to her.She smiled and put her hand over his, then shook her head. He said something else and came back to the buffet table.
    â€œNo sale on a pastry,” he said. “She seemed pleased to get the sweet tea, though.”
    I noticed she was drinking her water, though, while the paper cup Ben had taken her was untouched.
    A woman wearing a bright pink-and-orange Mexican poncho and a long blond braid down her back entered the bookstore. Her gaze swept the room and landed on the podium. A sour expression twisted her mouth, and her eyes narrowed. She saw Phoebe then, adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, and threaded her way through the crowd to the author’s assistant. They spoke for several seconds, Phoebe shooting looks at her sister the whole time. Then the newcomer gave Phoebe’s arm a squeeze and marched over to cut in front of the fan at the head of the line, her Mexican poncho nearly knocking over the cup of sweet tea. Dr. Dana’s eyes widened in alarm, and she flinched when the woman leaned over to say something into her ear. Then the woman straightened and walked back out of the bookstore.
    The author looked visibly shaken. Phoebe hurried over and opened another bottle of water for her. Dr. Dana took a sip and motioned the next person in line forward.
    A few minutes later, the portly man who had dished the dirt on Dr. Dana grabbed one more corn pone with a quick wink at Lucy, purchased his mystery novel, and exited the front door with Sophie. I saw Margie moving up in the queue. She seemed to be purposely avoiding her erstwhile seatmate, whom Mungo had seemed so interested in. After the woman had made such ascene, I couldn’t blame my neighbor for distancing herself.
    Still, I had serious reservations about Dana Dobbs’ advice. The whole concept of Radical Trust sounded like exactly the opposite, more like the doublespeak one might expect from a prevaricating politician than from a professional therapist offering relationship tips.
    I murmured into Mungo’s ear, “If I put you down, will you stay here behind the table?”
    He huffed.
    â€œNo? Well, I guess I’ll have to run you next door to the Honeybee.” He came to work with me nearly every day, and not once had he ever misbehaved. Now he wiggled in my arms, trying to