Page 52 of Haunting the Deep

“Yeah, I wanna talk to Mrs. Meriwether before dinner,” I say.

“Just…don’t do anything magical without us,” Mary says.

I get out of the Jeep. “Don’t worry. I’m not goingnearanythingTitanic-related until you get back.”

Alice lifts her eyebrow. “You say that, and then you try on a dress and touch a painting, a letter, and who the hell knows what else.”

“Be careful, Alice, or your face will get stuck in that scowl,” Mary says.

“Are you really saying that right now? What are you, five?” Alice says.

“Scared you, didn’t I? You’re relaxing your mouth.” Mary points at Alice’s lips. “Right…there.”

Alice bats Mary’s finger away. “You seriously need to work on your personality. It’s embarrassing,” Alice says, but her eyes smile.

Alice pulls away from the curb. One look at Mrs. Meriwether’s empty driveway and I turn on my heels and head toward town.

Potted plants are just starting to appear on porches, and there is a new energy to the air. The streets are buzzing with people.

At the rate I’m walking, I reach Sugar Spells Bakery before I’ve sorted out my strategy. Mrs. Meriwether is in the window, crafting an elaborate forest of flowering trees and wood spirits out of sweets. I pull the door open and bells chime. The scents of melted chocolate and warm pastry dough waft toward me.

“Samantha!” Mrs. Meriwether says. “What a lovely surprise.” She steps away from the window and rubs her hands on a floral tea towel.

“Do you have a minute to chat?”

“Always.” She uses sign language to talk to Georgia, the tall middle-aged woman behind the counter, and leads me to the only empty table.

Her café looks exactly like the inside of a thatched fairy-tale cottage in the woods inhabited by a happy witch who can’t stop baking. Old glass lanterns and bundles of dried flowers hang from the ceiling. The walls are covered with arched shelves filled with worn books and twine-wrapped bottles of spices. And there’s an occasional crooked broom hiding behind a trunk or a birdcage filled with candles. Tourists practically faint from joy when they find this place.

I take my seat at the rustic wooden table. I wonder if Jaxon made the furniture in here?

“What a treat to see you,” Mrs. Meriwether says.

I stare at her. And for the life of me, I can’t think of a single sentence to lead into this conversation that isn’t totally awkward. “Um…so…I wanted to ask you…”Can I have that potion we made? Not because I’m doing magic…obviously. What would make you ever think that…because I asked for a potion? Sheesh. Judgy. I don’t see the connection at all. Also, if you could never tell my dad this, that would be great.“Um.”

Mrs. Meriwether smiles. “You act like you’re going to propose.”

“Well, I actually…” I’m officially an idiot for not planning this out better. “The other day at breakfast you said I should have training. Did you ever have training?”

Mrs. Meriwether laughs. “Oh gosh, no. I really don’t do magic. I make some mean spell-inspired desserts and healing poultices, and I used to help your grandmother with her protection spells. But that’s all. I wish, though. I always wanted to learn magic as a little girl. I was just never good at it in a traditional sense.” She studies me for a second. “Are you thinking about what I said? About practicing and learning?”

Georgia walks up with two steaming coconut-rose milks. Mrs. Meriwether signs thank-you to her. I copy the motion.

“I don’t think my dad would like it if I learned magic, to be honest. And by ‘not like,’ I mean hate.”

Mrs. Meriwether blows on her drink. “You know, after your mom passed away, your dad didn’t want anything to do with Salem. I think he blamed this place for her death. And, well, he blamed magic, too.”

I sip my rose milk. “That’s kinda what I always figured. I just…I was thinking about that ‘Origin of a Spell’ potion we made last fall. Do you still have that, by the way?”

Mrs. Meriwether puts down her drink and focuses on me. “I do.”

“I was curious about it, how I even made it work. Do you think I could take a look at it?”

She pauses. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with those mysterious packages I’ve been hearing about, would it?”

I swallow a hot gulp of my drink and cough. “The ones from our eccentric relative? No. I’m just thinking about what you said about the training, and I thought I might check out the spell.”

Her look is questioning. “So youwerethinking about the training, then?”