Page 75 of Enchanted to Meet You

That didn’t mean that Rosalie was happy, though.

“This is harassment,” she protested, hugging her arms to her chest as the wind buffeted her blond hair around her face. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Don’t you?” Derrick lifted an eyebrow. “We were introduced this morning.”

“Who youreallyare.” She pointed at the amulet he wore around his neck. “Where did you get that? And why does Jessica have one? I reported you, you know, for stolen—”

“I didn’t steal anything,” he said. “And speaking of reporting, does your precious World Council of Witches know that you’re handing out magic muffins to members of the general public?”

In the fluorescent safety lighting the Dodges had installed along the pier outside their restaurant, he saw her make a face that was remarkably similar to the one her son had made when she’d told him he had to share the fifty-dollar bill with his sister.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” The wind and sea were churning so wildly, her voice was barely audible.

“Didn’t you?”

“No!” Rosalie shoved loose strands of hair from her mouth, where they were sticking to her lip gloss. “Rule number three: ‘A true Witch does not seek power through the suffering of others.’ Friendship spells don’t cause suffering. People enjoy my muffins.”

“I think that might be an overly generous interpretation of the rule.”

Rosalie didn’t like hearing this. Her glossy lips twisted. “I don’t know why you think I have to stand here and listen to anything you say. I called the World Council of Witches, and you’renot a member. No one there has ever heard of you. No one. Not even Bartholomew Brewster himself.”

Derrick’s grin broadened. “So the old Grand Sorcerer said he didn’t know me, did he? Well, isn’t that a kick in the pants.”

Rosalie was so focused on her own indignation, she wasn’t paying attention to Derrick’s smile. “And he said I should warn Jessica that you’re not a Council member, and that you never have been!”

That made his smile disappear. “She already knows.”

This set her blinking, and not just at the salt spray the wind was still kicking up at them. “She... she does?”

“Of course she does. Do you think this is a game? The fate of this town rests on what happens Thursday night. I think you know that. I think you’re well aware of it, as a matter of fact. And what are you doing to help, except going around, phoning Bart Brewster to complain, and giving out magic muffins?”

“How—” She looked stunned. “How do you know about Thursday? Unless... unless you’re here to stop it!”

“Trying to stop whatever it isyou’redoing?Absolutely.You don’t seem to have the slightest idea what it is you’re playing at here, Rosalie. If the witching community doesn’t worktogetherto try to stop this rift, people are going to die, or at least get hurt—like Jessica Gold got hurt yesterday, when you chose to nearly kill her”—Rosalie sucked in her breath to object, but Derrick continued relentlessly—“anddestroyed her car. Honestly, how did you think that was going to help? Now, you may not like that I’m here, but you have to admit that it’s a good thing I am. Because otherwise, you would still be worrying about how people feel about the party you’re throwing for your town instead of focusing on what’s actually important right now: keeping that town from being destroyed by a very real, very deadly threat.”

Now Rosalie didn’t look stunned. She looked frightened.

He wasn’t sure it was because of what he’d said, however. The waves around them were growing stronger. They were beginning to breach the concrete seawall at the end of the pier, near the front of the restaurant. Some diners trying to enter the place got splashed, and screamed in both delight and terror.

Rosalie, seeing this, blinked rapidly.

“I—Iamfocusing on keeping this town from being destroyed,” she stammered. “That’s why I’m the board chair of the West Harbor Tricentennial Committee. I want to bring people together to celebrate our history and heritage. And I had nothing to do with what happened to Jess. That was—that was—”

“Sure. Whatever you say. Look, here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, very calmly—more calmly than he felt. “You’re going to take the rest of those muffins home tonight and destroy them, and any other baked goods you might have that could, in any way, alter anyone’s feelings about you. Is that understood?”

Rosalie didn’t nod. Her face—her entire being—seemed frozen, but whether with cold, fear, or anger, it was impossible to say.

“And then,” he went on, “for the rest of this week, and every week after this for the rest of time, if West Harbor continues to exist, you’re going to do everything you can to make Jessica Gold’s life easier, not harder. Do I make myself clear?”

“Who are you?” Rosalie asked, looking not at him but at a rogue wave to one side of the pier that was so enormous, it managed to surge over the seawall and into the restaurant’s parking lot, deluging the cars there. Her eyes flashed wide in the safety lighting. “How are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said in a tired voice. “Except standing here trying to talk to you like we’re two good witches. Because that’s what we are, right?”

Another wave, this one even bigger than the last, heavedrelentlessly toward the shore, seeming to head straight for them. The wind’s howl grew louder, as did the thrum of the sea.

“Now,” Derrick said. “Are you going to leave Jessica—”

“Yes!” Rosalie threw her hands over her face to protect it from the onslaught of ice water she was expecting. “I’ll leave her alone! I swear!”