The Secret Ingredient of Wishes (23 page)

“What I'm saying,” Catch said, letting a little annoyance tinge her words, “is that you are here for a reason. And it'd be a shame if you were too scared to ever find out what that was.”

“I'm not scared for me.”

“Like I told you earlier, you've gotta trust in your ability if you want it to work right.”

*   *   *

The sidewalk was blissfully abandoned as Rachel turned the corner, bringing LUX into view. She fast-walked toward the door and slipped inside without incident.

“Hey,” Everley said, drawing out the word. Her smile was as easy as it had always been, no trace of annoyance or fear tightening her lips. Skirting around the counter, she pulled Rachel into a one-armed hug. “What happened yesterday? Are you okay?”

Rachel squeezed her back quickly, then extricated herself. “I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have bailed on you like that. I just needed to get away. From
everything
.”

“Don't worry about it. Everybody has days when they just can't deal with people another second. But after Ashe filled me in this morning on what's been happening, I totally get it. So, seriously, are you okay?”

“Not really. But I don't know what else to do yet.”

“Do you want to work today? Get your mind off everything for a while?”

“If you still want me to,” Rachel said.

Everley reached behind the counter, grabbed an apron from the hook, and thrust the frilly pink fabric at Rachel. A thick curl spilled onto her cheek and she tucked it back into the mass with the rest. “Why the hell wouldn't I?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because half the town thinks I'm out to ruin their lives?”

“I'm pretty sure it's more like ninety percent.”

“Even better.” Rachel knotted the apron ties around her waist and stowed her purse beneath the counter. Straightening, she met Everley's eye. “Listen, you know I can't stay in Nowhere after all this, right?”

“That's just ridiculous. You're not going anywhere.”

“Not for lack of trying, that's for sure.”

Everley rolled her eyes.

“Once I can leave town, I will. I
have
to. But I promise I won't bail again. And I'll find you a good replacement before I go,” Rachel said.

“Just give it some time, Rachel. People will come around once they have a chance to see all the good you could do, and you'll look back at all of this and think, ‘It was pretty damn stupid of me to think I had to leave because of all that shit.'”

“Doubtful.” But Rachel smiled anyway. After what happened with Michael, she swore she would never make another wish for herself. But if she did, that one would be close to the top of her list. Staying in Nowhere.

She turned as a customer entered. The squat woman with short dark hair curling around her face fanned herself with a magazine as she sagged back against the door. The air gurgled as she heaved it out of her open mouth. When she pushed away from the door, she left damp splotches on the glass.

“It feels like heaven in here,” she said.

Everley eyed Rachel before saying, “And you haven't even gotten started yet. We've got a talcum powder that'll make you forget you were ever hot and sweaty. Rachel, why don't you grab a sample and show her?”

“Sure thing.” Rachel smiled, grateful the woman hadn't turned and immediately walked out upon seeing her.

Running her finger across the labels, she read the various scents—pear and peony, juniper berry and lime, coriander and olive tree, orange and fennel, ginger and lemon, vanilla and pineapple—and tried to pick the one that fit the woman best. She carried a jar of the juniper-berry-and-lime-scented powder to the woman, unscrewed the lid, and motioned for her to hold out her hands. She shook out a fine mist. The scent was crisp and cool with just a hint of sweet.

“Go ahead and rub that in,” she instructed.

The woman's rings clinked on her thick fingers as she massaged the powder into her skin. “I hadn't really planned on getting anything,” she said, her gravelly voice a few notches above a whisper. “I was just looking for a few minutes somewhere it was cool. But she knew that, didn't she? Your boss. She knew I wouldn't leave without this.” She lifted her hands to her face and sniffed before swiping the back of one hand across her forehead.

“She's good like that,” Rachel said.

The woman glanced outside as if debating if the twenty-dollar price tag was worth it. She rubbed her hands together again, her smile melting into a twisted scowl. “Maybe I should just wish this damn heat away. It would certainly be cheaper.”

“Please don't.”

“But could you actually do it?”

Rachel's hand shook, spilling powder onto the floor. “I don't know.”
I really have no idea what I can do.

*   *   *

While Everley went to talk to Ashe about the progress of the construction, Rachel tidied the shop.

The air conditioner buzzed steadily in the background as she added slices of cucumber and oranges and a few cups of ice to the water containers and updated the welcome message with the daily special—two-for-one bath bombs—on the sandwich board sign in pink and green chalk. When the bells on the door chimed half an hour later, she forced a smile, determined not to let any more of the townspeople's accusations get under her skin.

Lola crossed the store and stopped a foot away from Rachel. She gripped her purse straps with both hands. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” She glanced around the shop, her eyes lingering on the workroom where Ashe and Everley were debating two different glass light fixtures.

“I'm working,” Rachel said, turning her attention back to the inventory.

“Does that mean you can't listen?”

Sighing, Rachel lifted her gaze and waited.

“I know I wasn't the nicest to you the other day, but I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand with everyone blaming you for everything,” Lola said.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” She bent down and opened the cabinets underneath the shelves where they kept the extra inventory. She loaded her arms with mason jars filled with lemon-sugar scrub. She shivered as the cool glass pressed against her skin.

“No. Everything I said was true, so I have nothing to apologize for,” Lola said, taking a few jars from Rachel's grasp and lining them up on the shelf. “But that doesn't mean I'm enjoying what's happened because of it.”

“You don't have to pretend with me, Lola. We both know you're just saying that so I'll change my mind and help you with your sister.”

“Fine. It's not all out of the goodness of my heart, but I'll do whatever I have to to find Mary Beth. I want that more than anything.”

Rachel knew that feeling. She would give almost anything to get her brother back. Had tried to make countless deals with the universe over the years. So far nothing had been enough for the universe to take her up on it. “Even more than Ashe?”

Lola's eyes flashed with anger at being forced to choose. Instead of answering, she said, “If you'd just tell me how to get in touch with her, I would owe you. Big time. I could maybe even help end your pariah status.”

Before Rachel could tell Lola she'd think about it, Ashe stepped into the room. One of the lamps dangled from his hand. It swung slowly back and forth. It caught the sunlight and sent shafts of light streaking across the floor.

“Everybody playing nice?” he asked. He looked at Lola when he said it.

She pressed her lips together into a thin line and rolled her eyes. Something about the expression was so Mary Beth that guilt burned in Rachel's chest for not immediately telling Mary Beth about her sister.

“We're good,” Rachel said.

“Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you make up your mind,” Lola said.

“I will.”

After Lola left the shop, Ashe continued to hover. He set the light down and leaned against the wall that separated the two parts of the shop. His shirt was wet with sweat in spots and his jeans had dark handprint stains where he'd wiped dirt from something onto his thighs.

“Can I ask you something?” Rachel asked.

“Sure.”

“It's about Lola.” She closed the gap between them and stopped less than a foot away from him. “If you don't want to talk about her I understand, but I'm not really sure what to do about something and if anyone would know how she'd react, it would be you.”

“I'm not so sure about that, but I'll try,” Ashe said.

“What do you know about her sister?”

“I know that she had one. Not that she ever talked about her. But I saw a picture once and figured it was her sister.” Ashe fidgeted with a ribbon on one of the bottles of lotion. It unraveled in his hand. “I'm a little surprised she told you. She doesn't even like you. Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

“Don't worry about it. It's no secret that I'm not her favorite person.” Rachel reached over him and retied the satiny ribbon.

“Why did she tell you about her sister, then?” Ashe asked.

“She thinks I know her. And she wants me to help her contact her.”

“Do you? Know her, I mean?”

“Yes,” Rachel admitted. “But I don't know if reuniting them is a good idea. They haven't spoken in a decade for a reason, and I don't want to break any trust or make things worse.”

Ashe leaned against the wall again and stared out the window, lost in thought for a moment. “Can I ask
you
something?” he finally asked, turning back to Rachel.

“Sure,” she said.

“Is her sister's name Mary Beth?”

“I thought you said Lola never talked about her. How do you know her name?”

“After Lola moved out, I found a box of her stuff in the attic,” Ashe said. “There was a whole stack of letters addressed to Mary Beth Beaumont, but there was no address. It looked like she'd been writing them for years. I even found one of our wedding invitations in there.”

“Did you read the letters?” Rachel asked.

“I was tempted, but no. It was just something else she'd kept from me and I didn't want to know what it was. They're still up there if you want them.”

“I don't. But it helps knowing they exist. Thanks.”

As much as Rachel hated having something in common with someone who had betrayed both Mary Beth and Ashe, those letters proved that Lola had never given up on finding her sister. And that was one thing Rachel understood deep down in her core.

 

23

When Rachel walked into the kitchen and found Catch asleep at the island, knife in hand, she swore under her breath. She'd been so caught up in her need to get away from all the wishes in town, she hadn't stopped to think what the stress of all of these secrets coming out could be doing to Catch's already run-down body. Ignoring her sense of self-preservation, she woke Catch and offered to deliver the six pies that were already lined up on the counter with yellow sticky notes affixed to the aluminum foil identifying the recipients. It took twenty minutes of persuading and the threat of calling Ashe to convince Catch she could handle both the pies and the potential accusations. In the end, Catch was too worn out to keep arguing.

And then there was no way to back out.

She looked up each address and marked them on a map before she left the house. There were four home deliveries and two to the coffee shop down the street from LUX.
Could be worse,
she thought as she loaded the pies into the back of her car and wedged them into place with rolled-up towels she pilfered from Catch's linen closet.

No one answered at the first two houses, though cars sat in the driveways and music hummed through open porch windows from a radio or TV somewhere farther back in the house. Rachel left the pies on the welcome mats, knocked one last time, and ignored the shadows that danced behind curtains as she jogged back down the sidewalk. At the third house, the front door slammed shut, forcing the screen door to swing out, then smack back against the casement with a loud
crack
before she'd even made it halfway across the yard. The sound made her jump. Readjusting her grip on the flimsy disposable dish, she contemplated dumping the pie right there and laughing as the deep-red cherry pie filling seeped out onto the ground. But being spiteful would get her exactly nowhere. So she continued to the house and knocked.

“You can just take that on back with you,” a voice called from inside. “I'll just throw it away if you leave it here.”

Rachel peered into one of the windows flanking the front door. An elderly woman—Barbara, according to the sticky note—with a tight perm and a lined, sagging face looked back, gray eyes sharp and focused. Leaning closer to the thin pane of glass, Rachel said, “It's from Catch.”

“I know who it's from. But who's to say what you've done to it.”

“Nothing. I promise.”

“I still don't want it,” Barbara said.

“I'm going to leave it anyway. Throw it away if you want, but you'll just be wasting a perfectly good pie.”

And perfectly good magic.

She set it on the small wrought-iron table, clenching her jaw to keep from saying the words out loud and fueling the rumors even more.

By the time she arrived at Elixir, the coffee shop that sold Catch's non-secret-keeping pies, Rachel was tempted to call Ashe or Everley and have them run over to carry the pies inside just to avoid another confrontation. Instead, she balanced one pie on her left hand and the other on her forearm and swung open the door. Heads swiveled her way, and whispers raced from table to table. It was impossible to distinguish between “wish” and “witch” at that low volume. She took a deep breath and held it all the way to the counter.

“Listen,” the manager, Janelle, said as Rachel set down the pies. “If anyone sees you delivering this, we won't be able to sell any of it.”