Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,64
and she may have hated my parents and disliked Sam and me, but she couldn’t resist Charlie. Who could?
Over the past two years, Blossom and John had begun to build a sort of wary, grumbling relationship. She had flown to LA to help with the baby while John was preparing to move back to Boulder, and she’d attended Charlie’s first birthday party despite the presence of so many Luthers. Once there, she stood in the corner with a drink, glaring at the other guests, giving only curt responses to anyone who tried to speak to her, including John. But she did come, and when Charlie opened her gift—a little doll that Blossom had sewed herself—I swear, she actually smiled for a second.
I tried to remember that smile as I parked near Blossom’s store, Crystals of the World, and walked into it, hearing a strand of store bells jangle just above my head. I hated those bells.
The inside was one large, well-lit room filled with glass shelves, so you could see straight through to the other wall if you were so inclined. Every shelf held a neatly arranged pile of stones, which seemed to be in order of color. Some of the crystals had been adapted into jewelry, while some were polished and carved in the shape of hearts or skulls. And still more were set out as raw chunks, unaltered. I noticed that these seemed to be the most expensive.
The girl at the counter looked up with a shy smile. She was in her late teens, maybe early twenties, and at least part Indian, with glossy black hair that was cut in a sharp bob near her chin. Her shoulders looked permanently hunched, as though she spent a lot of time getting yelled at. Despite this, her movements were confident, her hands capable as they worked with a small roll of copper and a pair of wire cutters. Behind her, there was a heavy velvet curtain leading to a back room.
“Hello,” she said. “Can I help you find something?” Her eyes were focused on me, but her hands never stopped working, measuring the wire by muscle memory.
Stupid, Lex. What if Blossom wasn’t even working today? I should have called ahead. “Um, I’m looking for Blossom. Um, Wheaton.” How may Blossoms do you know? Sam’s voice in my head sounded amused.
The curtain ripped aside, and a petite, wiry woman with graying braids was suddenly glaring at me. She seemed smaller than I remembered. “You. What do you want?” Blossom demanded.
“Hello, Blossom. How have you been?” I said pleasantly.
“Don’t sweet talk me, white girl.” The young woman blinked in surprise, but just ducked her head in deflection. Her expression said better you than me. “You come here looking for me, you must want something.” A stricken look passed over her face. “Is my granddaughter okay?”
“Yes,” I said hurriedly. “Charlie’s fine. She’s at Disney World with John and my parents.”
I immediately regretted my choice of words. To Blossom, it would seem like I was throwing the Luther money in her face.
Sure enough, she glared at me with fresh resentment and irritation. “Then what do you want?”
I marched up the aisle to the counter and upended my shopping bag of stones, right over the girl’s rows of cut copper. There were more stones than ever, since Lily had managed to find an additional dozen placed outside my cabin. They poured out of the bag in a glittering rush and scattered over the counter, filling in all the little spaces between the wires.
The girl gasped, her eyes wide. And for the first time in my entire life, I got to see Blossom Wheaton completely speechless.
It was awesome.
“I need to know what these are used for,” I said into the silence. “And how to stop the guy who’s using them.”
Blossom looked from the stones to me and back again. She picked up the long piece of smoky quartz that Emil had used to activate the spell, examining it under the desk lamp. “Kathy,” she said, without taking her eyes off the crystal, “Take your lunch break. Lock the door behind you.”
“But Momma said—”
“I don’t care what your momma said,” Blossom snapped. “If she asks, you can blame me. Go now.”
The girl—Kathy—hopped off the stool, grabbed a cheap purse from under the counter, and fled out the door. “My brother’s daughter,” Blossom groused, her eyes still on the crystal. “Stupid.”
She’d been smart enough to run away from Blossom, but I didn’t say that out loud. “Does your