Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas

Queen of Hearts

by Juliet Blackwell

Serafina Rogers is not an impulsive person, but lately something’s gotten into her. She walked away from warm San Diego, her scumbag ex-fiance, and her teaching job in order to come to Snow Creek and take over her deceased aunt’s witchy supply store. Unfortunately, her hunky cowboy landlord, Joe, has other plans for the space, which hasn’t turned a profit in years. Neither Joe nor Serafina believe in magic, much less romance. But when a Yule log is tossed on the fire, Serafina begins seeing things in her aunt’s deck of cards, and Joe’s niece goes missing…they might just have to change their minds.

Queen of Hearts

Three old men, heedless of the cold, sat outside a shop called Magic Baubles, watching a pretty, but frazzled-looking, young woman attempt to maneuver a large foreign car into a prime parking spot on the street in front of them. The driver appeared to be attempting a three-point turn, but by now was on her seventh point. Reverse, forward, reverse…inch by tortured inch.

Big car, said the first, pushing heavy-rimmed glasses higher on his bulbous nose. A sawbuck says she’s a skier stopping for supplies.

Nah, replied the second, scratching his pink, bald scalp before adjusting his Greek fisherman’s cap. No skis. Prob’ly lost.

I’d say tourist, nodded the third, his face a mass of dark, leathery wrinkles. Headin’ over to the Mitten Inn.

The other two shrugged. It didn’t much matter, in the end. This was their perch, where they passed the time each morning after fixing a breakfast of coffee and eggs at home. On special occasions they might treat themselves to a plate of corned beef hash at the Main Street Diner, where they would flirt shamelessly with the waitresses. But mostly they sat here, on the bench outside Magic Baubles, just as they had for years, ever since they’d slowed down and Darlene Gilbert had set this carved wooden bench out front, as if inviting them to set a spell. They teased Darlene about reading cards and brewing potions—woo-woo witchy nonsense, they called it—but it was said with deep affection. Her passing had left an aching void in their hearts. A few months ago, they had dressed in their Sunday best and drove their battered pickup trucks out to the old cemetery on the edge of town, the one ringed by tall cypress trees, to see their old friend off on her journey to the beyond. Unsure what to do next, they found themselves meeting here at the bench, as usual. Darlene would have approved, they nodded to themselves. After all, there wasn’t much to do in a small town like Snow Creek, not when you’re on the far side of eighty.

They didn’t whistle at the girls, harangue the whippersnappers, or tease the tourists—at least not when the tourists could hear. Mostly they sat and enjoyed the fresh air and each other’s company, watching the new arrivals drive down Main Street in their flashy automobiles and shiny SUVs. Snow Creek’s legendary snow always seemed to catch the tourists by surprise, even though it was the main reason anyone ever came to town.

The woman in the too-big car backed up to try again.

She ain’t no quitter, I’ll give her that, said the man in the fisherman’s cap.

The trio looked to their right at the sound of heavy boots clomping on the sidewalk. A man and a girl approached. The dark-haired, petite teenager wore too much makeup and a frown, mumbled a quick Mornin’ to the men on the bench, and let herself into Magic Baubles with a key. She flipped the hand-painted, gothic-lettered sign in the window to Open and slammed the door.

The man lingered near the bench, crossing his arms over his broad chest and leaning against the building’s weathered grey clapboards. He wore a fleecy sheepskin jacket, blue jeans, and a cowboy hat. Tall and lean, he had the sort of ropy muscles that spoke of hard labor instead of an expensive gym. The kind they’d all had, back in the day, when they’d been young and full of sass.

Mornin’ Joe, said one.

Mornin’ Leo, Sully, Ray, said Joe with a nod to each.

Joe had known these men all his life. Sully had taught him to fish, Leo made him work like a demon on his cattle ranch, and Ray had schooled him in manners on more than one occasion. It always surprised Joe to see them shrinking into themselves, as though they had already taken a few steps into the world beyond. Joe glanced at his watch. He was itching to get to work, but forced himself to chat with the threesome for a few minutes as he did just about every morning.

Slow down, Darlene used to tell him. Take time to listen to the oldsters. They know more than you know.

How’s everybody doing today? Joe asked.

Fair to middlin’, said Ray.

Sciatica’s actin’ up, said Leo. You got any more of that salve you use for the horses? Darlene used to mix somethin’ up for me, don’t know what it was but it worked real fine. But now…. he trailed off, and they observed a moment of silence for their departed friend.

Sure thing, said Joe. I’ll bring you some tomorrow.

’Preciate that.

Now, all four men turned their attention to the woman as she finally nosed her BMW into the parking space. It sat at an angle to the curb, but that was no big deal. The citizens of Snow Creek observed the spirit of the law, not the letter, and appreciated a sincere attempt.

We’re thinkin’ the Mitten Inn has a new guest, Sully said.

Think so? Joe shook his head. Gotta say, she’s alone. Nobody comes to the Mitten Inn to pass the holidays by themselves. That would be downright sad, wouldn’t it?

The old men nodded.

Through the snow-framed windshield Joe could see the driver’s face: cute, but pale, even stricken-looking. Not the eager look of a woman on vacation, filled with anticipation. She wore a plain white shirt buttoned all the way up to her chin, a boring dark-colored jacket that looked like it belonged in a boardroom, and her honey-colored hair was swept into a prim, no-nonsense bun. All buttoned up and buttoned down. But the truth was, Joe had always had a soft spot for this type of woman. There was something about the strand of hair that fell loose of the bun, the one button that looked about to open…Joe always wondered what lurked beneath such outwardly formal attire.

As he studied her, the woman leaned forward and rested her forehead on her hands, still gripping the leather-bound steering wheel. Whatever brought her to Snow Creek, Joe thought, it wasn’t a romantic getaway.

I gotta go with Sully on this one, said Joe. That woman looks plain old lost to me.

***

Serafina closed her eyes and rested her head. Just for a moment, just to steel herself. She tried using a trick she’d developed as a child when she needed to calm down: she called up a mathematical equation in her mind, methodically sifting through the numbers and symbols. The x’s and y’s drifted about in her mind’s eye like helium-filled balloons, bobbing and weaving until she pulled them, one by one, into the formula and made them stick.

It usually worked. Just not today.

Stupid car.

When the flirtatious young man behind the rental car counter suggested she upgrade from a small compact to a luxurious BMW, complete with sunroof, Serafina envisioned herself driving to her new life in style, her hair billowing in the breeze like a glamorous 1950s movie star. Like Grace Kelly. The car was an indulgence she could scarcely afford, but she had worked so hard, didn’t she deserve the occasional treat? But the moment she drove off the lot, Serafina knew she had made a mistake. The weather was far too cold to open the sunroof, and the car was much larger than she was accustomed to driving. She didn’t feel glamorous; she was no movie star. Who was she kidding? She felt clumsy and awkward, and cold. Serafina had managed the car well enough on the freeway but the windy two-lane road up to Snow Creek had been a white-knuckled drive. She’d been relieved to finally arrive in town, only to discover the fresh new hell of parallel parking.

Having an audience of locals—three elderly men and one way-too-handsome cowboy—witness her humiliation hadn’t helped. Now she was frustrated and sweating with the effort of parking this monstrosity of a rental car. She was willing to bet Grace Kelly had never had to parallel park.

Serafina blew out a long breath. When you can’t go back, go forward, she reminded herself, and, recovering her wits a bit, swung the door open. Her heart sank as she felt snow crunching beneath the soles of her new boots. I’m not good with cold, she thought. Then again, if she were to be honest—and Serafina was always brutally honest—she wasn’t good at anything lately…with the possible exception of choosing the worst of all possible options, each and every time.

Like deciding to teach mathematics to college students instead of making a fortune in the computer industry, Serafina grumbled mentally as she circled the car to get her bags from the trunk. Like choosing a fiancé whose orderly lawyer’s mind she had admired until he came home one day and announced he’d fallen in love with his much-younger paralegal, they were flying to Hawaii to get married, and would Serafina please find someplace else to live because the condo was in his name.

I’ve become a cliché, Serafina remembered thinking as she packed up her life, a life that had seemed so on track for a happy ending. She’d tried many times to get Drew to take a vacation, to go to Hawaii for a romantic getaway, but he’d always refused, citing his work. Now that he’d made partner in his law firm, Drew was ready to celebrate—with a pretty young blonde with a tattoo of a bluebird on her shoulder. A bluebird, Serafina thought, her anger growing.

This happened the same week the faculty dinosaurs in the mathematics department—all old men, of course— had undermined her with the administration and sabotaged a grant for a program she’d been developing for six months. And then, on top of everything else, her reliable old car had died in the middle of I-5, stranding her in morning rush hour traffic.

That’s it, she had thought. I have had it, I am out of here. And on impulse she resigned her teaching position and left sunny, warm San Diego for this frigid, snow-covered mountain village in order to…what? Take over her Aunt Darlene’s witchy supply store? Seriously?

This was not a Grace Kelly move. Grace Kelly had left Hollywood stardom to marry a Prince and live in a palace by the sea.

"Idiot, she whispered, and yanked on the bulky suitcase. She was a super-efficient packer, resulting in a suitcase so heavy the airline had charged extra. Freaking idiot."

Help you with that?

Serafina jumped. It was the Cowboy, standing right behind her. His eyes were a light blue, vivid against a tanned face sporting just a hint of dark whiskers. He wore an honest-to-gosh cowboy hat, his jeans were worn, and his boots were scuffed. At least he was authentic, not a wannabe like those who wandered around Old Towne San Diego as if extras on a Wild West movie set.

Um…no thanks, Serafina said, a blush burning her cheeks. I’ve got it.

Joe smiled, tipped his hat, and stepped back. There was something intriguing about this woman—an outsider, clearly, but not a skier. Definitely not a local…yet something about the tilt of her hazel eyes, the way she carried herself, seemed familiar.

Joe’s eyes widened. Could this be the niece Darlene was always going on about? What was her name…Sara something?

"You’ll love her, Joe," Darlene used to say as she crushed spices, seeds, and dried leaves with a massive stone mortar and pestle to make one of her herb-infused brews. Joe didn’t put any store in magic, per se, but he’d seen enough to know that spirit had a real hand in healing. If it made people feel better to hold a crystal in their hand, or sleep with an herbal sachet under their pillow, or drink one of Darlene’s custom brews, far be it from him to cast aspersions. Still…he wasn’t sure about the old woman’s judgment when it came to her favorite niece.

"Once you get past the shell, you’re going to love her. Poor thing’s a mess at the moment. But I know you’ll find there’s something special about her. I see it, clear as day, in my cards."

"You’re a fraud," Joe had teased. You can’t see anything at all, much less in your cards.

Darlene had just grinned, revealing several missing teeth. Darlene had been ancient and about as ugly as could be, her face nothing but wrinkles and age spots. Even her eyes, which had once been a beautiful hazel, had become cloudy with the cataracts she refused to have surgery to correct, claiming she would die soon enough. And then she had. Her passing left an empty space in Joe’s life, as well as in the town. He had known her since he was an angry teenager, when she had offered him the solace, affection, and guidance his mother never could, much less his distant, violent father. Joe figured if he had a decent bone in his body, it was due to that tiny, crazy old woman.

Speaking of crazy women…he couldn’t just stand by and watch the one in front of him struggling with her suitcase. He leaned in to grab the handle.

Serafina responded with an aggressive, elbows-up move she had learned in self-defense class.

Whoa. Joe held his hands up in surrender, a crooked smile on his handsome face. Sorry, only trying to help.

I don’t need any help.

Okay…are you looking for the Mitten?

She blinked. The what?

The Mitten.

I’ve got…I’ve got gloves in my suitcase, thank you.

He smiled again. I meant the Mitten Inn. The hotel. It’s down Main Street a spell, back a couple of blocks closer to the highway. Big Victorian place, so dolled up with Christmas decorations it looks like a postcard. You drove right past it.

Serafina shook her head and returned to wrangling her suitcase. She didn’t mean to be rude, but she just wasn’t good with people. Even blue-eyed, handsome cowboys.

Especially blue-eyed, handsome cowboys.

She gave the heavy bag another hard tug and finally pulled it out with an oof, letting it fall at her feet. With a sinking sensation, Serafina realized there was no way the rollers would work on the gravel and accumulated snow by the side of the road. But having made such a show of refusing assistance, she was going to have to brazen it out.

Mornin’, Joe, said another elderly man as he walked by, gazing with curiosity at Serafina.

How you doin’, Elmer? replied Joe.

Help the lady with her bag, why dontcha Joe? he frowned.

Joe shrugged. Apparently, she can do it herself.

Heya, Joe, a young woman called out as she headed across the street. Her flirtatious smile fell as she looked at Serafina with concern. Does she need help?

Doesn’t want any, said Sully, helpfully.

Nope, chimed in Ray. Doin’ it herself.

Independent sort, Leo added.

Serafina couldn’t believe this. Where she was from, people didn’t speak to strangers; even in sunny San Diego, they minded their own business. But what had she expected, moving to a small town? Idiot.

Serafina let the heavy bag rest on the ground for a moment while she caught her breath and checked out her surroundings. The town had gone all-out for the holidays. Strings of brightly colored lights twined up the old-fashioned streetlamps, and the shops were decorated in ribbons and sleigh bells, reminiscent of a Currier and Ives print. She had passed a massive Christmas tree on Main Street, decorated to the hilt. There were Victorian houses and covered walkways next to Magic Baubles, her aunt’s store. Sunset Magazine hadn’t exaggerated when it called Snow Creek a snow globe come to life. A perfect place to celebrate Christmas.

Meanwhile, Serafina felt like The Grinch.

She pushed that thought away. Right now all she wanted was to make it into Magic Baubles. She would go inside and shut out these too-friendly locals, then sit down and put pencil to paper, and figure everything out. She thought better on paper.

Gripping the heavy suitcase with both hands, Serafina carried it awkwardly over to the bottom of the steps leading to the store. She set it down to rest for a moment.

Joe crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the neighboring car, the expression on his face flickering between bemused and amused. Would she be able to lug it up those five steps?

Please, please go away, Serafina wished, but he didn’t budge. Besides, by now several passers-by had joined the elderly trio on the bench outside the shop.

Apparently The Travails of Serafina was today’s matinee.

Tears stung the back of her eyes. She felt drained. Weary to her bones. Until this moment, Serafina hadn’t allowed herself to think too much about what she was doing. When Drew betrayed her, when everything she’d been working toward for so long was suddenly gone, all she could think about was escape. So when the lawyer called with the news that her aunt had left her this shop, Magic Baubles, it seemed like fate had intervened.

Except if there was one thing Serafina did not believe in, it was fate. Or magic. You make your own luck, her stepfather always used to say. She took a breath and dragged the suitcase up the steps, bump, bump, bump, bump, bump.

Finally. Sweating and breathing hard, Serafina was nonetheless just a little proud that she’d made it without help. She started to root around in her oversized purse to search for the key to the store.

I do believe it’s open, said the Cowboy, making a big show of opening the door for her with another tip of his hat. Ma’am, he said, in an exaggerated country twang.

Only then did Serafina notice the lights were on, and an Open sign was in the window.

"Much obliged, pardner," she replied.

As she entered the store she caught her breath. It was exactly as it had been the last time she’d been here, nearly twenty years ago. Everything was the same: the big stone fireplace had pride of place in the center of the far wall, and in front of the hearth, two couches and several arm chairs were arranged in a cozy horseshoe. The walls were lined with wooden shelves crammed with books, cards, crystals, candles, bottles of liquids and herbs, bags of beads and filigreed ornaments, ribbons and feathers, pentacles and jewelry, and an antique brass scale. The squeaky, old wooden floor boards were scarred with age, but warm and welcoming, adorned with scatter rugs here and there. A glass-topped display case at the rear of the store doubled as a counter, on top of which sat an old-fashioned cash register.

A sullen-looking teenage girl sat hunched behind the counter, thumbing through what looked like an ancient, leather-bound book.

Welcome to Magic Baubles, said the teenager in a voice far more poised than Serafina had expected. Decidedly proprietary. May I help you?

Hi, I’m, um, looking for….

Darlene? Sorry but she’s, like, totally gone beyond the veil.

Beyond the veil?

She died, the girl said, her voice suddenly flat. Couple months ago.

Yes, I know, said Serafina. The realization of lost opportunities was a lance through her heart. I’m her niece, Serafina. And you are…?

I’m Riah, said the girl, her expression now wary. In the few moments Serafina had been in the girl’s presence, she had already seen a flurry of emotions pass over the teen’s face. Serafina had a sudden, visceral memory of being that age and feeling desperately out of place, neither a child nor an adult. She still often felt that way, but at least with adulthood had come strategies to cope.

Riah? Serafina asked. What a pretty name.

It’s short for Mariah.

As in that song, ‘They Call the Wind Mariah’?

Riah rolled her eyes. Old people always ask me that. I think it was after Mariah Carey, but whatever.

Serafina was stung. Was she really that old? Lord knows she felt ancient these days, but in fact she hadn’t turned thirty yet. She had been young when she graduated high school, and was the youngest professor to go up for tenure at the mathematics department of her university. Still…the past couple of months had aged her.

Riah was staring, and Serafina mentally shook herself.

I take it you work here? Serafina asked.

Riah flipped the book closed. Darlene was like, totally blind at the end. So I handled the books and ordering and stuff. Pretty much everything.

Oh…. Serafina studied the girl. Sixteen at the most; maybe even younger. That was very nice of you.

Riah shrugged. She paid me.

Well, then, she was lucky to have you.

Also, I helped her read the cards. Riah’s hand cupped a stack of thick, oversized playing cards, worn from years of use. The backs of the cards were a vivid wine color, with a design of intricate tracery. In anyone else’s hands they were regular playing cards, but in Darlene’s gifted hands, the cards opened up a world of magic.

I remember those from when I was little, Serafina said. Darlene could see the future.

Riah nodded, still eyeing Serafina uncertainly. We sell tarot cards, but Darlene preferred these. She was awesome. She did the readings, but I told her what card came up. And whether the card was crooked or whatever. That matters, you know.

I remember, said Serafina, running her fingers over the stack of cards.

Long ago she had spent her summers at Darlene’s side, sweeping the shop, helping to dry herbs, tidying the shelves. It felt like another lifetime, back when her father was alive and things were easygoing and simple. Her father was an artist, and their small family had practically lived out of their car, often pulling up stakes and departing in the middle of the night, hitting the road for parts unknown. Serafina had thought it was all a grand adventure; she hadn’t realized until many years later that they had been sneaking out of town, leaving unpaid bills and angry landlords in their wake. The constant insecurity and lack of resources had been a hard life for her mother. Was it any wonder that when her father died, her mother had married stolid and steady Fred?

You used to live here? Riah asked, and Serafina came out of her reverie.

I spent a lot of time with Darlene when I was young, Serafina said. I think I was ten when I last saw her, though.

If you two were so close, like…how come you never visited her?

Serafina hesitated, unsure what to say. When her mother remarried, her practical, hard-nosed new husband, Fred, had made it clear he had no truck with magic. Didn’t believe in it, he had announced. Wasn’t real. And if it was real, it was the work of the Devil. Serafina had protested, but her mother hushed her. Nor did Fred believe in children going off to visit kooky relatives in small towns. Besides, Fred insisted, Darlene was Serafina’s great-aunt on her father’s side, so there was no family tie anymore. A job promotion meant Fred moved his new wife and daughter across the country, to upstate New York, where they lived in a nice clapboard house, and for the first time in her life Serafina attended school like a normal child. But she never forgot her Aunt Darlene, and for years wrote short, chatty letters bragging about her grades, the merit badge she’d earned in the Girl Scouts, sleepovers at friends’ houses. Yet she never received a response. No notes, no birthday cards.

It’s all for the best, Fred had told her. Not a good influence on an innocent child, if you ask me. Serafina had been convinced Darlene had forgotten her, until the day the lawyer called and told her Darlene had left her this shop.

Still, as an adult, she should have visited Darlene. She should have. She always promised herself she would: next summer, next Christmas, next year. But she was so busy going to school, building her career, pursuing tenure, and Drew looked horrified when she suggested a trip to the mountains. So she had put it off, and now it was too late.

It’s…complicated, Serafina said. Families can be like that.

Riah nodded, as if well acquainted with complex family dynamics. Anyway, I totally run the place so I should probably just keep working for you. Want me to show you the living quarters?

Through the back room, right?

The front door bell chimed as the Cowboy entered the shop, and Serafina gritted her teeth. What was it with this guy? Didn’t he have something to do, somewhere to be? What would a cowboy want in a store like Magic Baubles?

Sure enough, he didn’t spare a glance at the merchandise but joined Serafina and Riah at the register.

I thought we should have a talk, he said. You’re Darlene’s niece, aren’t you?

Yes, I am. How did you know?

I recognize you from your picture. He nodded at Serafina’s sixth-grade school picture, framed and hung on the wall behind the counter. A newspaper article about Serafina winning a middle school math prize was tucked into one corner of the frame, a dried flower sat on the top edge, and a beaded charm hung from the bottom.

Serafina’s eyes clouded with tears.

Darlene talked about you all the time, Joe said, studying her. Darlene had talked about her, all right. But as far as he knew, Darlene’s niece hadn’t bothered to contact her elderly aunt. And then Darlene left everything to Serafina. Didn’t seem right, Joe thought. Then again, families were complicated. He should know.

Guess that makes me your new landlord, Joe continued.

My what?

He cocked his head. You don’t know what a landlord is?

Of course I know what a landlord is. But…you own this building? I thought you were a….

A vagabond?

No, no—

A vagrant? A wastrel? A ne’er-do-well?

Riah gave an exaggerated eye roll and snorted.

Serafina felt her cheeks flame again. Was he making fun of her? Once again she was reminded that she didn’t fit in. Anywhere. She didn’t need this cowboy to rub it in.

She cleared her throat.

I thought you were a…a cowboy.

He laughed, and she relaxed a bit. Hell no, I’m no cowboy. Cowboys work for a living.

And you don’t?

Not so you’d notice.

Serafina wasn’t sure if she had insulted him. In her estimation, being a hardworking cowboy would be far more respectable than someone who spent his days harassing newcomers.

But…the boots. And the hat. It was a logical assumption.

Well, now, I suppose I do rather resemble a cowboy.

Gee, ya think? Riah asked.

That’s enough out of you, missy, Joe said. Getting back to business: the pertinent point here is that I’m your landlord. And I need this space.

No, he doesn’t, Riah said.

As a matter of fact, I do, Joe said. Now if you’ll excuse us for a minute, the adults are talking.

Serafina winced as Riah’s pretty, mascara-encrusted eyes glared daggers at Joe. The girl hopped off the stool, grabbed a clean cloth and made a big show of dusting a small collection of crystal balls on a shelf behind the register. Ranging from the plain to the ornate, the crystal balls gleamed, with nary a dust mote in sight.

Joe ducked his head slightly in response to the girl. Serafina wondered what was going on between the two of them.

This is my space, said Serafina. I hold the lease.

"Well now, that’s not quite true. Your aunt Darlene held the lease. You can’t inherit a lease."

Serafina’s heart sank. She had been afraid of that. When Darlene’s lawyer told her about her inheritance, Serafina had been so relieved at the chance to escape her unhappy circumstances that she had tossed her usual caution to the wind. Rather than waiting to learn the details, she had squeezed her eyes shut and leapt into the void.

Magical thinking, that’s what Fred called it. And it got a person into trouble, every single time.

But I have plans for the shop, Serafina continued. "I’d be happy to sign a new lease."

Fact is, I’ve already promised the space to an old friend from out of town.

There was an exclamation that sounded like "gah" from the vicinity of the crystal balls.

I’m taking a union-mandated break, declared Riah. She stormed out of the shop, slamming the door so hard that a bejeweled goblet fell over, rolled off the shelf, and tumbled onto the floor.

As Joe leaned over to pick it up, Serafina noticed the long, lean line of his back, the way his muscles moved under the blue chambray of his shirt. She couldn’t help but compare him to her ex-fiancé-scumbag, who was slightly pudgy from the good food they both loved, and soft from lack of exercise. She hadn’t judged Drew; after all, she was as out of shape as he. Their work didn’t involve a lot of strenuous activity, and had consumed most of their waking hours. But…in another un-Serafina-like moment, she wondered what this cowboy’s chest would feel like…was his skin smooth, or was it covered with black hair? Rough and masculine under her palms….

As Joe reached out to place the goblet back on the shelf, he caught her gaze.

Their eyes met. And held.

Well, well, Joe thought. Who would have thought little Miss Priss here, all buttoned-up and tucked-in, would be capable of a smoldering look like that? It took him a moment to find his words.

He cleared his throat. As I was saying, before my niece set about destroying the merchandise—

Riah’s your niece?

He nodded. My brother and his wife were killed by a drunk driver eight years ago, so Riah came to live with me.

Serafina’s stomach clenched. Poor Riah. Poor Cowboy. He lost his brother and sister-in-law, and then took on the care of a little girl? Maybe there was more to this man than she’d first assumed. Riah seems like a bright girl.

You don’t know the half of it. Lately it feels more like I’m wrangling snakes than raising a child. It’s probably pretty obvious, but she’s not very fond of me.

The teenage years can be tough.

So I’ve discovered. Are all girls this difficult at sixteen?

Serafina smiled. And you think teenage boys are easy?

Hardly. He chuckled, and Serafina noted how his long fingers ran along the side of the shelf full of goblets. I was hell on wheels, so I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. Matter of fact, your aunt Darlene saw me through that age. She busted me right here in this very store, intent on stealing whatever I could.

"Seriously? You robbed her?"

"Well, now, I didn’t exactly rob her, I only tried to rob her. She caught me red-handed. Flew out of the back room like a Fury. Little thing barely came up to my ribs, even back then, but she was fierce. Scared the living daylights out of me."

Serafina laughed. What happened next?

I started babbling, making up excuses and apologizing, Joe continued. Just about broke down and cried, matter of fact. Darlene gave me a choice: she could call the sheriff and have me arrested, or I could do as she said for as long as she felt like saying it. I agreed, and she put me to work on her friend Leo’s ranch. Then she tutored me so I could bring up my grades. She was a taskmaster, but she whipped me into shape. I owe her…a lot.

Sounds like Darlene. Or…what I remember of Darlene.

She spoke of you often. The humor was gone now from his voice. I’m surprised you didn’t keep in touch.

Serafina felt her face flame, and glared at him.

Not that it’s any of my business, of course, Joe added with a shrug. Anyway, I’ve already let this place.

But you can’t—I need it. I have plans for the shop…Darlene left it to me.

Everything in it is yours. I’ll give you time to get it all together, of course. Nothing has to happen until after the holidays.

Be reasonable. Let me see if I can get this place into shape. Then we can talk about a rent increase.

Look—Sarah, is it?

Serafina.

Serafina. Pretty name. Listen, you aren’t going to be able to pay me enough to make it worth my while.

You don’t know that. I’m planning on some changes that will make this place more successful.

Oh really? Like what?

I thought I’d bring in educational materials, you know, books and games about science, geology. Fun with physics, that sort of thing.

A slow smile spread across his face. Fun with physics? In…Snow Creek?

I did my research. There’s nothing else like it in town.

Well now, that much is true.

Kids love science. In San Diego there’s the Fleet Science Center, and San Francisco has the Exploratorium. They’re always mobbed.

Uh-huh, he said, clearly unconvinced.

Hey, if Aunt Darlene could sell witchcraft supplies—

Don’t forget, she supplemented her income with her ‘readings’. Do you, er, ‘read’ too?

No, of course not.

He smiled, and Serafina felt the air rush out of her lungs. What was wrong with her? Yes, those blue eyes sparkled, making a person ponder what delicious secrets they might hold, but…snap out of it!

Are you saying you don’t share your auntie’s belief in all things magical?

I believe in science, not superstition. Why…are you saying you believe in this nonsense?

He chuckled. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to confess his feelings, one way or the other, Serafina continued.

In any case, if Darlene could make a go of selling witchcraft supplies and offering readings, surely I can make a profit with science.

As to whether or not she ‘made a go of it’, I have to tell you—

There was the sound of heavy footfalls on the boards outside, and people shouting. The bell on the door rang cheerily as it swung open and a young man stuck his head in.

Oh good, you’re here. Joe, they need you over at Last Chance Ranch. They’ve been calling you.

Forgot to turn the volume up, muttered Joe, swearing under his breath as he checked his phone. Without so much as a good-bye, he strode out the door. It banged closed behind him with another cheery tinkle of the bell.

For the first time since she’d arrived in Snow Creek, Serafina found herself alone.

Quickly, Serafina crossed the store, turned the sign to Closed, and locked the deadbolt. Leaning against the door, she let out a deep breath. She needed a few minutes to ponder what she had done, what she had walked into.

What she really needed to do was to get right back in her car and leave, before she made a bigger damn fool of herself. What had she been thinking, believing it would all work out? Jumping into something without weighing the pros and cons, without thinking it through? Hoping things would, somehow, some way, work out? She was an idiot.

That’s what you get when you believe in magic. Fred’s voice echoed in her mind. Fred was right. Fred was always depressingly, dauntingly, right.

***

Hours later, after she reopened and endured a steady stream of locals dropping by on one pretext or another to check her out, while Riah alternated between officiousness and boredom as she explained how the business operated, Serafina was relieved to say goodnight to the lot of them. She flipped the sign once again to Closed, locked the door, shut the blinds, and switched off the lights, then went through the door at the back of the store into Darlene’s living quarters.

Taking a seat at the wooden kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea at her side, Serafina settled in to review the account books. Once upon a time a long, long time ago—Darlene had utilized a computerized accounting program, but for the last ten years she had been using an old-fashioned accountant’s ledger, noting transactions and inventory by hand. As Serafina had expected, Darlene supplemented the shop with card readings and the sale of her concoctions: salves and lotions made of fresh herbs and botanicals.

Serafina was no accountant, but she was a pro with numbers, and quickly realized that, at least for the past five years, Darlene hadn’t been bringing in enough to cover her rent, much less to cover the cost of maintaining an inventory, buying groceries, and paying the utilities.

And as if that hadn’t been challenging enough, Darlene had lost her sight. As far as Serafina could tell from the account ledgers and bank statements, Darlene had never filed for disability