On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,63
they’d burn you for displaying pagan symbols.”
“You recognize them?” I asked, more sharply than I meant to.
“I had an aunt who dabbled in some occult stuff,” he admitted.
“Maybe she was friends with my grandma.”
“Better hope your clients aren’t superstitious.”
“Speaking of clients, I might have sold two of your things online this morning,” I said in the awkward silence that followed. I’d received a few emails overnight.
Darryl turned a beaming smile on me. “That’s excellent news. Was one of them the box? I noticed it was gone.”
The box. Shit. How to explain it had gone missing after a plant infected my house and let in a bunch of monsters?
“It’s actually not here.”
“Oh?”
“I’m having it appraised.” Would he buy the lie? Perhaps it wasn’t lost but it was currently misplaced. Could the house have moved it somewhere?
“You think it’s worth something?”
“Guess we’ll find out.” Did he see through the falseness of my bright grin?
“So hey, you want to get together maybe for dinner soon?” he asked, almost stammering. It was freaking adorable.
“I would love that.” I really would.
“I know you’re probably super busy with Christmas and all, but maybe we can plan to have it before New Year’s.”
“It’s a date.”
And I couldn’t wait.
Not long after Darryl’s visit, I tucked the books under the counter and left the shop, feeling pretty good about my circle of protection. Maybe I’d finally start getting ahead.
I arrived home to find Wendy baking sugar-free cookies with walnuts in them. Safe, and no sign of anything wrong with the house. Even the scorch mark on the floor had faded.
My cat sat curled in the window. He barely managed to open an eye and blink at me before he slept some more.
“Hey, Mom,” she exclaimed. “How was your night?”
“Fine.” I wasn’t about to explain what really happened. Only I’d forgotten about the message I left her.
“Only fine? That sucks. Maybe you can teach him to be better at it.”
“What? No! Oh dear.” I blushed so bright I’d have given a tomato a run for its money.
“So who did you have over? Because your message never did say.”
Only one name came to mind. “Darryl.”
“Oooh,” she crooned. “How was it?”
“Nothing happened.” My lying only went so far.
“Don’t tell me you’re still hung up about your body?”
“N-o-o?” I couldn’t stop the hesitation.
Winnie wagged a spatula at me. “If it bothers you that much, get the surgery.”
“I can’t. I’ve a business to run.”
“The moment it gets moving, hire someone and do it! You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“I am only halfway there,” I protested. “In the prime of my life.”
“Exactly. There will never be a better time to do it.”
“How about maybe?”
“I’m going to keep bugging you until you either get the surgery or accept your body as it is and flaunt it in a bikini.”
“That will never happen,” I muttered. But in more positive news, I realized the cottage didn’t freak me out. It looked absolutely pristine, and the footstool by my chair was a nice addition.
I slept soundly that night. No monsters at my window. No demons wanting to eat me. I arrived at my shop on Monday morning to find Brigda hard at work, replacing the last window. She finished by lunchtime.
That afternoon, I got three customers. Three! And one of them spent over five hundred dollars. It was almost enough to send me into the back for a good cry.
In total, in one day, I’d pulled in over eight hundred dollars in the store and another four hundred online. Some of it I’d owe to Darryl. We’d agreed on a thirty percent commission. But the stuff I sold that came from my house? Pure profit.
I closed right around six. With a town our size, people weren’t out and about much in the evenings. In the more populated areas, stores stayed open later for those holiday shoppers. Maybe in time, I’d be popular enough for it to be worth my while, too.
For now, I locked the door, pleased with my first official day, and stood for a moment admiring the windowfront. The glass had been repaired and the frame patched and repainted. Brigda had even fixed my sign, nailing metal versions of the letters on the marquee. It would make it easier to fix if someone vandalized it. If it happened again. After all, I’d carved the symbols from my house onto the store. This morning, as an added layer, I’d pricked my finger to smear my new circle with blood, too. Crazy, I know, and yet I felt