Despite popular belief, it hadn’t been her mother’s overdramatic lifestyle that had sent Pandora scurrying out of Black Oak as soon as she was legally able. It’d been her disappointment that she was just an average person with no special talent. All she’d wanted was to get away. To build a nice normal life for herself. One where she wasn’t always judged, always found lacking.
Then she’d had to scurry right back when that nice normal life idea had blown up in her face.
“You’re going to figure it out,” Kathy said, her words ringing with loyal assurance. “Your mom wouldn’t have trusted you with the store if she didn’t have faith, too.”
“The store is failing. We’ll be closing the doors by the end of the year. I don’t think it’s as much a matter of trusting me as it is figuring I can’t make things any worse.”
Pandora eyed the last three cream-filled pastries, debating calories versus comfort.
Comfort, and the lure of sugary goodness, won.
“These are so good,” she murmured as she bit into the chocolate-drenched creamy goodness.
“They are. Too bad Mrs. Rae only bakes when she’s pissed at her husband. Black Oak has a severe sugar shortage now that she’s retired.” Kathy gave her a long, considering look. “You worked in a bakery for the last few years, right? Maybe you can take over the task of keeping Black Oak supplied with sweet treats. You know, open a bakery or something.”
“Wouldn’t that be fun,” Pandora said with a laugh. Then, because she was starting to feel a little sick after all that sugary goodness, she set the barely eaten éclair on a napkin and slid to her feet. “But I can’t. I have to try to make things work. Try to save Moonspun Dreams. Mom was hoping, since I’d managed the bakery the last two years, that maybe I’d see some idea, have some brilliant business input, that might help.”
“And you have nothing at all? No ideas?”
Failure weighing down her shoulders, Pandora looked away so Kathy didn’t see the tears burning in her eyes. Her gaze fell on the dusty box she’d hauled in earlier.
“We’ve got a leak in the storeroom,” she said, not caring that the subject change was so blatant as to be pathetic. “Most of the stuff stored in that back corner was in plastic bins, so it’s probably seasonal decorations or something. But this box was there, too. It’s my great-grandma’s writing, and from the dust coating the box, it’s been there since she moved away.”
“Oh, like a treasure chest,” Kathy said, stuffing the éclairs back in the bag and clearing a spot on the counter. “Let’s see what’s in it.”
Pandora set the box on the counter and dug her fingernail under one corner of the packing tape. Pulling it loose, she and Kathy both winced at the dust kicking them in the face.
She lifted the flaps. Kathy gave a disappointed murmur even as Pandora herself grinned, barely resisting clapping her dirty hands together.
“It’s just books,” Kathy said, poking her finger at one.
“My great-grandma Danae’s books,” Pandora corrected, pulling out one of the fragile-looking journals. She reverently opened the pages of the velvet-covered book, the handmade paper thick and soft beneath her fingers. “This is better than a treasure chest.”
“Oh, sure. Piles of gold coins, glistening jewels and priceless gems is exactly the same thing as a box of moldy old books.” Still, Kathy reached in and pulled a leather-bound journal out for herself, flipping through the fragile pages. Quickly at first, then slower, as the words caught her attention.
“These are spells. Like, magic,” she exclaimed, her voice squeaking with excitement. “Oh, man, this is so cool.”
A little giddy herself, Pandora looked over at the book Kathy was flipping through. “Grammy Danae collected them. I remember when I was little, before she died, people used to call her a wisewoman. Grammy Leda said that meant she was a witch. Mom said she was just a very special lady.”
“Do you think she really was a witch?” Kathy asked, glee and skepticism both shining in her eyes.
“I’m more inclined to believe she was one of the old wives all those tales were made from.” Pandora laughed. “Despite the rumors, there’s nothing weird or freaky about my family.”
She wanted-desperately needed-to believe that.
“But wouldn’t it be cool if these spells worked? Say, the love ones. You could sell them, save the store.”
“It’s not the recipe that makes a great cook, it’s the power,” Pandora recited automatically. At her friend’s baffled look, she shrugged. “That’s what Grammy always said. That words, spells, a bunch of information…that wasn’t what made things happen. Just like the tarot cards don’t tell the future, crystals don’t do the healing. It’s the intuition, the power, that make things happen.”
“I’ll bet people would still pay money for a handful of spells,” Kathy muttered.
“They’d pay money for colored water and talcum powder, too.” Pandora shrugged. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“Maybe you can offer matchmaking or something,” Kathy said, studying the beautifully detailed book. “People would flock to the store for that kind of thing.”
For one brief second, the idea of people believing in her enough to flock anywhere filled Pandora with a warm glow. She wanted so badly to offer what the other women in her family had. Comfort, advice, guidance. And a little magic.
Then her shoulders drooped. Because she had no magic to share. Even the one little thing her mother had tried to claim for her had been a failure.
“I’d let people down,” she said with a shake of her head. “Hell, when it comes to love stuff, I even let myself down.”
“You can’t let that asshole ruin your confidence,” Kathy growled, lowering the book long enough to glare. “It wasn’t your fault your boyfriend was a using, lying criminal.”
“Well, it was my fault I let him dupe me, wasn’t it? If I was so good at reading people, I’d have seen what was going on. I wouldn’t have let the glow of great sex cloud my vision.”
Just thinking about it made her stomach hurt.
She’d thought she was in love. She’d fallen for Sean Rafferty hard and fast. The bakery owner’s son was everything she’d wanted. Gorgeous. Funny. Sensitive. Her dream guy. She’d thought the fall was mutual, too. Great sex with an up-and-coming pharmacist who seemed crazy about her. He didn’t care that she didn’t have any special gift. And she hadn’t cared that she couldn’t seem to get a solid read on his body language. He’d said plenty. Words of love, of admiration.
Then Sean had been busted in an internet prescription scam. And, as if her shock of misreading him that much hadn’t been enough, they’d informed her that she was under arrest for collusion. Apparently, her own true love had run his scam using her computer IP address, and then told the police it was all her idea. It’d taken a month, a pile of lawyers’ fees and the word of one of Sean’s colleagues shooting for a plea deal to convince the cops that she’d been innocent. Clueless, gullible and stupid, but innocent.
His mother firing her had been the final straw. Whether she fit in or not didn’t matter, Pandora had needed to come home.
“What’s that book?” Kathy asked, clearly trying to distract her from a confidence-busting trip down memory lane.
Pandora gave an absent glance at the book in her lap. Faded ink covered pages that were brittle with age. Some of the writing she recognized as Grammy’s. Some she’d never seen before. Then, a tiny flame of excitement kindling in the back of her mind, she flipped the pages. “It’s a recipe book.”
“Oh.”