The Cupcake Coven (14 page)

Fayleen smiled sadly and aimed an almost imperceptible headshake at Hanna.

Rebecca hoped Dru was all right. He was usually there before she opened—but here she was flipping over the ‘open’ sign and turning on the lights.

A couple of men walked right in.

They must have been waiting—Whoa. How did my dad describe the characters I was supposed to look out for?

Both had dark hair. One was tall and had a scar across his cheek and the other was short with a mustache. The short one has a mole next to his eye.

Oh no. It’s them!

Her father had said to get out and call the police. She dashed into the kitchen and grabbed her phone. She was just headed for the back door when she felt a vice-like grip on her arm.

“Owww.” The tall guy caused her to wrench her shoulder and his fingers were digging into her arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the little mustached troll asked.

“Where do you think? My father told me to get the hell out of Dodge if I ever saw you two.”

“Now why would he do that? We haven’t done a thing to you…yet.” If he’d twirled his mustache, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised.

“You’ve practically taken my arm off. Tell your brute to let go. He’s hurting me right now.”

“Hey, Opie. Let her go.”

Opie? Maybe it’s one of those ironic nicknames.

Nickname or not, at least he let go of her arm. She rubbed the sore spots left by his over-enthusiastic fingers.

She was too far from the door, and it would take too long to unlock it, so trying to make a run for it would just result in more punishment.

Dru strode into the kitchen and halted when he saw the two men. Her face must have told him the story, because he narrowed his gaze at them.

“What’s goin’ on here?”

“None of your business, cowboy.”

They must have been watching the place for quite a while if they’d seen Dru wearing his cowboy hat. He hadn’t worn it since his first or second day.

“Dru. You sh—should leave.”

“Yeah, Dru. Scram,” said ‘Opie’. Apparently he could talk after all…in an octave so low, he sounded a little like a foghorn.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Dru set his hands on his hips. If only he was wearing a gun belt like in the Old West…then Rebecca remembered she was in favor of gun control.

The good news was that the criminals didn’t seem to be armed either. At least there was nothing she could see, and in hot July their light weight clothing wouldn’t hide much.

“I—um…I propose we sit down and discuss whatever you came here to say in an adult, civilized manner,” Rebecca said.
Yup. That sounded as idiotic as I feel saying it.
But to her surprise, moustache man nodded and smiled.

“Now you’re getting it. Your old man said you were smart. Speaking of the loser, where is he?”

“My father isn’t a loser.”

The guy reared back and laughed. “He sure as hell is. He lost all our money on a ‘sure thing’, and said it turned out to be a scam.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dru interjected as he walked toward them. “But that has nothing to do with her.”

“If you know what’s good for you—and her, you’ll shut up and stay where you are, cowboy.”

Dru stopped short. Rebecca tried to implore with her eyes and her nod that she wanted him to comply. He folded his arms and glared at the intruders.

Moustache man turned back to her. “Now, Rebecca, is it? We just want to talk—unless your boy gives us any trouble. Then we’ll start breaking legs. Got it?”

She nodded.

“Good. First, we want to know where your father went.”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She figured if she lied and said, New Jersey, it might come off as insincere. She’d been told she was a lousy liar.

“Okay. We figured you might say that, and it might even be true, so we’ll come back to that. The second thing we want to know is, how fast can you sell this place and give us our money?”

“Holy heck!”

“Yeah. So, you see…it’s pretty damn important that we find your father. ‘Cuz if we don’t, you’ll have two choices. Sell and pay us back, or collect the insurance on what’s left of this place…and pay us back. Either way, we’ll get our money.”

A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye.

Dru advanced on them again.

“Stop, Dru,” she choked out around the lump in her throat. “It’s just a threat. Nothing has happened to us, and I don’t want it to.”

He did stay where he was, but he clenched and unclenched his fists as his arms hung by his sides.

“Yup. She’s the smart one,” Opie said in his low bass.

“That’s for sure.” Moustache man said. “Now if she’s really smart, she won’t call the police. By the time they get here, we’ll be long gone and it’ll just make the boss mad.”

“I wouldn’t make him mad if I were you,” Opie said.

“S—so, how do I get in touch with you if I find my father?”

“We’ll be back. And if you haven’t found your father by then, there’d better be a
For Sale
sign out front.”

They looked ready to leave and Rebecca couldn’t get rid of them soon enough. She just hoped Dru didn’t do anything ‘heroic’ i.e. stupid, as they walked by.

She held her breath as Moustache man passed him, then again as Opie, who was the same height as Dru, stared at him.

As soon as the outer door closed with the bells’ second jingle, Rebecca collapsed into the chair and let out a huge held breath.

“Dammit!” Rebecca banged her fist on the industrial kitchen counter. The floor rumbled under their feet and the lights flickered on and off. Dru’s mouth went dry. “Did you do that?”

“I—I don’t know.”

I think my little witch has more power than she realizes.
“Maybe you should try sendin’ them to Timbuktu. You can’t just let them take everything you’ve worked for away and put you on the street.”

Rebecca looked like she was thinking.

“What?”

“I could bind them.”

“Honey, you’ve got guts, but don’t be foolish. We’re gonna need help if you want to tie up that big guy. Hell, I can probably take ‘em by myself one at a time, but not both.”

She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m not talking about tying them up. Binding is something I can do magically.”

“Oh. So, one little witch and a lot of magic can…what exactly?”

“As it turns out, it’s not just good for the witch. If you do it right, it’s also good for the person you bind. Maybe they’ll see the error of their ways and try to change. I’d show you, but I can’t close the bakery and be upstairs at odd times. I don’t want to get a reputation for being unreliable.”

“I’ll hold the fort. You go do what you gotta do,” Dru said.

“I’m not quite ready. It takes a bit of preparation to do a spell right. I doubt they’ll come back right away.”

“Okay. What kind of preparation do you need to do?”

“I need a couple of black wax figures. I can get those at Myranda’s shop. I could also use some black thread, small mirrors…” She tapped her lower lip and began to pace.

“Why don’t you write down whatever you need and I’ll go get it for you.”

Rebecca smiled. “I’ll just dash upstairs and find the spell in my Book of Shadows. Then I’ll be sure to have everything.”

“Off you go, then.” Dru gave her a soft pat on the ass.

She jumped, but giggled and dashed upstairs.

He strolled out to the display cases to see what else might be needed for the day. He was plenty freaked out about the danger, but he was getting used to hearing magical solutions. She believed magic could take care of her…and maybe it could. If not, he was determined to be there, protecting her.

There were plenty of pies and cookies. Scones and turnovers for the breakfast crowd. He was surprised she didn’t have more muffins, but she explained the giant muffins had gone out of style since so many people were health conscious, and normal sized ones could be bought anywhere. It looked like all she needed were croissants and lemon bars.

In a few minutes, she reappeared with a list and tucked it into his pocket. “You don’t mind walking all the way to Myranda’s?”

“Of course not. If you want, I can pass out samples along the way.”

Rebecca threw her arms around him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Then she backed away slowly. “I mean—what I
will
do without you when you leave.”

“You may not have to find out. I hear I’m about to lose my job at the ranch.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “What? Why?”

“I wasn’t supposed to be gone this long. I thought with the police helpin’, it might take a week or two to find Shasta and bring her home. Unfortunately, they’ve been no help at all. The pagan community has helped much more.”

Rebecca quieted, but he could practically see the thoughts churning in her brain.

“What are you thinkin’?”

“I wonder if you should go home and rescue your job. The coven can keep an eye out for Shasta. I’ll take her picture to the next ritual.”

He hugged her. “That’s mighty selfless of you, but I ain’t leavin’ New England without Shasta and I ain’t leavin’ you alone when you’re in danger.”

Rebecca smiled. “Talk about selfless…”

Dru leaned over and kissed her. He didn’t mean for it to be a passionate kiss, but Rebecca responded to him readily. Her body melded to his, and she made a little sound like an inward sigh. He pulled her tight and sought entrance to her mouth. She opened to him and their tongues met and tangled.

The little bells sounded over the door and a male laugh was followed by, “Not again!”

They broke apart to see Ethan grinning at them.

“I don’t know when you have time to bake, Rebecca. Not with this guy constantly groping you.”

She chuckled. “He’s not doing anything I don’t want him to do. So there.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Save that tongue for better things. I just came in to pick up some coffee and bear claws.”

“No bear claws for a while, I’m afraid,” Rebecca said. “They go stale too quickly, so I’ve stopped making them until business picks up.”

“You’re still struggling to get customers?”

“Not like before. It’s a lot better. Now I’m concentrating on finding another baker.”

Ethan pointed at Dru. “Teach this guy—if you can keep your hands off him long enough.” He smirked at both of them.

Rebecca threw her hands in the air and returned to the kitchen.

Dru strolled over to Ethan and lowered his voice so Rebecca couldn’t hear. “I’m worried about her. I don’t want to say why, or she might crack my skull with a saucepan.”

Ethan seemed to follow. He whispered, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah. Maybe show up at lunchtime when you can? That way she won’t be alone when I’m passing out samples. Is that something you can do? I don’t know how busy you are.”

Ethan smiled. “I’m always on call. Twenty four-seven. Fortunately, there’s free time between jobs, and from here I can get to the dock in five minutes.”

“So you might be able to hang around some days while I’m out?”

“Sure. But can you tell me why in general terms?”

Dru hesitated and bit his lower lip. Then he thought of a comfortable way to explain without giving up any specific information. “Yeah. Women shouldn’t be left all alone in a city full of people—some good and some not so good.”

Ethan leaned away and scrutinized him for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah. That could be dangerous. But some people have Wiccan ways to protect themselves.”

“True. But it would be good if
people
didn’t have to rely on that completely.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes, but before he could ask anything more specific, Dru hurried behind the display case. “So, what can I get you?”

He paused and scanned the items. “What tastes like a bear claw?”

“Really? You’re stuck on those?” Dru asked.

“Nah. I’ll take a scone or something.”

“Good. Because those we’ve got. Blueberry or raspberry?”

“Whatever’s fresher.”

Dru reached for the raspberry scone.

Ethan cleared his throat. “Listen, the reason I stopped in was to tell you I think I may have seen your sister.”

Dru snapped to attention. “Really? Where?”

“I’m not sure it was her…and I don’t want you to be alarmed. I think she just twisted her ankle or something. She was in the emergency room at Portsmouth Memorial.”

“When?”

“Yesterday. I was running late for my physical.”

“And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I had myself talked out of thinking it might be her, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing. Her hair was completely different.”

“Shorter? Darker blonde.”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I thought I saw her too.” Dru dropped his gaze and stopped blaming Ethan for not recognizing her. After all, he had done the same thing.

“Anyway, she seemed fine. The girl I saw was sitting up, smiling and chatting with some guy. Her foot was elevated on another chair. And public displays of affection must run in your family, because she kissed him.”

Dru was struck dumb.
Could Shasta be having an affair with some guy she can’t bring home and can’t leave? Why wouldn’t she call and tell me?
He thought about that for a minute.
Maybe he’s married. Maybe he’s an ex-con on parole.
Regardless, she should have called. Would he have demanded she return to college and graduate?
Darn tootin’.

“I’ll kill her!”

Ethan reared back. “That wasn’t the reaction I was anticipating.”

April half expected to never see her amnesia buddy again, so when a guy on a motorcycle roared up to the bench where she was seated and took his helmet off, she was delighted to discover it was John—or Mike—or Duke. She didn’t know what to call him anymore.

“Wow! Is this yours?”

“Yeah. I found it in my garage and the keys were in it. Want to go for a ride?”

“Sure!”

She was about to don the helmet John/Mike/Duke gave her when Dr. Frampton exited the building and yelled, “Hey. Wait a minute.”

He jogged to where they were standing. “Do you have a license for that thing, John?”

“I sure do. And the name’s Mike.” He fished a new looking wallet out of his back pocket.

“Never mind. I don’t need to see it. I just had to make sure you weren’t driving illegally.”

“I want to take April to the beach. I know she likes it there. We won’t go far.”

Dr. Frampton nodded. “Congratulations on recovering your memory, by the way. I thought you’d be resting at home.”

“I am. I have a home in Rye. Well, it’s my parents’ summer home, but they only get to spend a couple of weeks a year there, so I get it the rest of the time.”

“Ah, I see. Are they there now?”

“They came for the weekend.”

“It must have been good to see familiar faces.”

“Yeah.”

April knew the doctor was digging. Probably wanting to see how much Mike/Duke remembered. She’d decided to drop
John
. It wasn’t his name, after all. Maybe if he really had recovered his memory he wouldn’t want to be reminded of when or why he’d been called that.

She had a few questions of her own, but she didn’t plan on grilling him.

“Well, we’ve gotta go while there’s plenty of sunlight left. I don’t want to keep her out after dark.”

Dr. Frampton smiled briefly. “Good man. See you soon, April.”

“Yup.”
Not too soon, I hope.
She put on the helmet with the dark visor. She could see out of it quite well since it filtered the harsh sunlight, but she doubted the doctor could see her anymore. Just as well, because she was rolling her eyes.

Mike had time to decide what to tell April on the way to his beach house. He had discovered quite a bit about himself and not all of it was good. They called him Duke, because his parents were rich. Apparently his fiancée Bethany was high maintenance and his parents suspected she was only interested in him for his money…which he didn’t have.

The Wentworths purposely didn’t coddle their three children, wanting each to appreciate where money came from—hard work. Yes, he lived in their beach house in pricey Rye, New Hampshire, but he paid rent.

When Bethany found out she was marrying a mere EMT who didn’t own his home and wouldn’t come into an inheritance until his healthy parents in their late forties passed away, she bailed. She knew the facts, but apparently didn’t accept them until she demanded a giant diamond and Mike assured her he couldn’t afford it. No way. No how.

His parents said they’d get him the best doctor available to help him explore any residual reasons for the suicide attempt. He had to have been depressed, but he didn’t think he was anymore. His second lease on life was an eye opener.