The Secret Ingredient of Wishes (24 page)

“You've got to be kidding me. All I'm doing is delivering them. I didn't help make them. I haven't done anything to them.”

“I'm not saying you did, but people are more than a little freaked out by what's happening. Whether it's because of you or not, it doesn't matter. They need someone to blame so they don't have to feel bad about the things they've done and you're an easy target. That's the reality of the situation right now.”

Rachel's fingers tightened on the pie dish, pressing indentations into the aluminum. “So you're not going to take them?”

“I'm going to make a show of turning you away, and then you're going to come around back and drop them off where no one can see you,” Janelle said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“All right. Thanks.”

She turned, careful not to make eye contact with any of the patrons, who watched the whole exchange over the rims of their mugs and peered around flimsy sheets of newspaper.

*   *   *

It took Catch until the next day to find out how the deliveries had gone—or hadn't gone, in most cases. Rachel would've joked that it must be a record for the longest amount of time something had been kept from Catch if the old woman hadn't barged into LUX and smacked Rachel across the butt with a rolled-up menu she must have accidentally carried out of Elixir in her haste to get to Rachel.

Everley raised an eyebrow at them and, smirking, guided a customer toward the body sprays at the back of the store. Not quite out of listening distance, but at least as far away as they could get without leaving the building.

“Did you think letting them get away with treating you like you were nothing would make them decide you weren't so bad after all?” Catch asked, leaning in so her breath blew hot against Rachel's face.

“I was hoping the town would see I wanted to leave as badly as everyone else wanted me gone and it would let me go.”

“Hogwash. You want to be here as badly as the town wants you here and you know it.”

“Well, it's not like that's doing me any good. In case you haven't noticed, things aren't getting better.”

“That's because you aren't trying, Miss-Wouldn't-Know-What-to-Do-with-Happiness-If-It-Hit-Her-in-the-Face.”

Rachel picked at a nail protruding a quarter inch from one of the shelves. Whatever had been hanging from it had been sold or moved to better display it elsewhere. “Excuse me for not wanting to be hit in the face. Even if it is by happiness.”

“Don't get smart with me.” Catch fought the twitch in her face that might have been the beginnings of a smile. “Encouraging their idiotic behavior won't change their minds. And it sure as hell won't help you get control over your ability. So cut it out. And you,” Catch said, pointing a bony finger at the customer with Everley, who was known for her love of gossip, “pass this along for me. I'm going on strike for anyone bad-mouthing Rachel or spreading rumors about her. That means no more pies for anyone trying to run her out of town. They don't want her magic, they don't want mine either. And make sure they know that's coming directly from me 'cause if any one of them shows up at my door asking for my help, I'm likely to beat them senseless with my rolling pin for my trouble.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the woman said, eyes wide with the promise of a new story to share. Her smile faltered when it landed on Rachel, but she dragged it back into place. “For what it's worth, I'm happy to have her stick around.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said and smiled back at her, hoping more people would come around.

 

24

Catch turned away a half dozen people over the next week after word got back to her that they weren't playing by her rules. The more word spread about her boycott, the less openly antagonistic people were to Rachel. They still whispered behind her back and switched to the opposite side of the street when they saw her coming, but the direct accusations had tapered off. Not that she ventured out into town for more than work these days, much to Catch's irritation.

Summer finally seemed to be releasing its sticky grip on the town with a subtle dip in temperature. The windows had been open for days, the scent of blooming honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass drifting in on the breeze. When Catch and Rachel were home, they kept the front door open too.

“It's your turn,” Rachel said to Catch when the doorbell chimed.

Catch wiped her hands on a towel and tossed it on the counter next to the dough Rachel was rolling out. A puff of flour danced in the air. Catch shuffled out of the kitchen, grumbling under her breath about it being her damn house.

“I thought you knew better than to show your face here again,” Catch said to whoever stood at her door.

“I'm sorry, I—”

Rachel couldn't hear the voice well, so she set the rolling pin aside and moved to the doorway leading into the dining room. She still couldn't see who was on the porch, but she could hear better.

“I thought you were someone else for a second. Someone I'm not real fond of,” Catch said. She put her hand on the knob, but didn't open the screen door. “But since you're not her, what can I do for you?”

“I'm a friend of Rachel's. Are you Catch?”

This time the voice was clear. Unmistakable.

“Maeby!” Rachel yelled, obscuring whatever Catch said to her. She shot through the dining room, rattling the china in the buffet, and threw her arms around Mary Beth before the door was fully open. “You're here.”

Mary Beth braced a hand on the porch railing to keep them from both falling down the steps. Laughing, she said, “You never gave me a firm answer about visiting, so I just decided to show up.”

“I'm so glad you did. You have no idea.” Rachel gave her another squeeze before stepping back.

Mary Beth looked Rachel over, her eyes narrowing as she did. Then the worry ebbed enough for her mouth to twitch into a quick smile. “You just got flour all over me.”

A fine white powder clung to the amethyst fabric of Mary Beth's shirt. “That's what you get for showing up without calling first,” Rachel said, grinning.

“This way I knew you couldn't blow me off,” Mary Beth replied.

“I like her,” Catch said from the doorway. “I don't know who she is, but I like her.”

“This is my best friend, Mary Beth
Beaumont
. Maeby, this is Catch Sisson.”

“You do know I haven't been a Beaumont for almost six years now, right?” Mary Beth said.

Rachel bit her lip. She knew the name would register and trained her eyes on Catch, silently begging her not to say anything about Lola. “I know—”

“What are you now?” Catch interrupted.

“I'm a Foster.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you, Miss-No-Longer-a-Beaumont. C'mon in.” She held the door open and cracked a small smile when Mary Beth thanked her.

Rachel pointed out the rooms on the main floor as they walked toward the kitchen. She promised to give Mary Beth a full tour later. She told her to drop her bag anywhere, as if the home was as much hers as Catch's.

“Let me know if you see it start to move,” Mary Beth said. She wedged the suitcase between the legs of the stool at the island. Sitting, she said, “I had to forcefully remove Violet from the car twice, so I wouldn't put it past her to stow away in my luggage.”

Rachel's laugh came easy. Just having Mary Beth there settled some of the restlessness and gnawing tension she hadn't been able to shake since the townspeople turned on her.

“As much as I would have loved to see her, I'm kinda glad it's just you. We haven't had it be just the two of us since—”

“Since Geoff.”

“I was going to say since you ditched me for some guy, but same thing,” Rachel teased. She redusted the rolling pin with flour and flicked droplets of water onto the dough to keep it from drying out.

“Yeah, but at least I didn't leave town. Or the state. Be glad I didn't just wish you home.” Mary Beth covered her mouth as if she could force the words back in.

“It's okay. Catch knows.”

Catch whipped her head around to glare at her. She thrust her hand on her hip. “I know what?”

“About the wishes,” Rachel said.

“Oh,” Catch said. The pie in the oven sizzled when she opened the door to drape a foil crust cover around the edges. The room filled with the scent of sweet cherries and caramelizing sugar. Nodding at the pie as if it was doing a good job of baking itself, she asked Mary Beth, “Do you make wishes come true too?”

“No, I was just your standard so-depressed-I-needed-to-be-medicated teenager. And with my family, spending most of my time crying out on the side of the highway where my best friend had died was not acceptable behavior, so they sent me to therapy to get over my issues and keep me from embarrassing them more.”

“Sounds like them,” Catch muttered, adding, “Okay, you two, go on and get outta my kitchen. I've got things to finish up and you're distracting me.”

Rachel smiled at Mary Beth to let her know that was a normal reaction and to not take it personally. Leading her back through the house, she bypassed the sitting room in favor of the cool breeze on the front porch.

“Is it happening again?” Mary Beth asked as they slid into the rockers. “The wishes?”

“Yeah. They had stopped for so long it was easy to tell myself they were gone for good. But then I came here and it's like the floodgates opened,” Rachel said, staring at a splintery groove in the arm of the rocking chair. She traced it with her fingertip. The wood was sticky with humidity and left a smudge of dirt on her skin. “I've picked up the phone so many times in the past week to call you, but I didn't know how to tell you what's been going on here without you sending someone over with a straightjacket.” She smiled at the lame joke.

Mary Beth's throaty laugh broke the tension. Looking sideways at Rachel, she said, “That's not the kind of thing you let strangers do. At least not to the people you love. I've got one in the car just in case.”

Rachel reached out and linked her fingers with Mary Beth's. “That's true love right there.”

“Damn right,” Mary Beth said.

“So, you're not going to disown me if I keep using my ability?”

“I want you to be happy, Ray. And whatever does that, I'm okay with. I've been telling you for years you needed to move on from all the baggage you've been carrying around. Maybe this is a step in the right direction.”

“You think I've moved on?”

“Well, not in a bad way. Not moved on from me or anything because that's just unacceptable. But moved to a better place emotionally. And, not that it's my first choice, but you could stay in Nowhere if that's what you want,” Mary Beth said.

No she couldn't. Not if everyone in Nowhere kept blaming her for everything that went wrong. But if Rachel could find a way to control her ability like Catch said, then maybe.

“You'd really be okay if I didn't come back to Memphis?” Rachel asked.

“Define okay.”

“You know, able to perform basic human functions. Actual happiness is out of the question if I'm not there, but as long as you can put on a brave face for Geoff and the girls, I'll be able to go about my business without any worries.”

“I'm sure I can muster up something to fool them,” Mary Beth said with a laugh. “But I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to talk you into this. Especially if you want to come home. 'Cause I'd be all for you packing up your things and driving back with me this weekend.”

Rachel looked up at the rumble of an engine. Ashe's truck slowed on the street. Music blared through the open window, the metal thumping from the bass. He reversed and pulled into the driveway, kicking up gravel and dust. The engine cut off and the music died.

When he skirted around the hood of the truck in charcoal suit pants and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, Rachel had to look twice to make sure it was Ashe. He glanced up and saw her, his tired expression morphing into an easy grin.

Mary Beth let out a soft whistle. “Hello, hot neighbor. I see baking's not the only thing you've picked up while you've been here,” she said under her breath.

Rachel forced herself to look away from him. “It's not ‘picked up' so much as ‘fell in a whole pile of complicated with.'”

“More like a whole pile of hormones.”

Ashe jogged up the porch steps and ran a hand through his hair. When he saw Mary Beth, he froze.

“Oh, wow. Hi,” he said. He stared at her, lips parted and eyes sparking with recognition. “I'm Ashe.”

“Hey,” Mary Beth said, drawing out the word into two syllables. She glanced at Rachel, eyebrows raised.

Rachel's skin prickled with heat despite the cool breeze. She pushed up from the chair and the rock shifted under the right runner, so she had to lurch forward to avoid slamming into the house. Ashe caught her as she stumbled to her feet. He rubbed his fingers up and down her arms.

“This is—” she started, staring at his chest, the top of his fraying collar.

“Mary Beth. Yeah, I got that,” he said. He tipped Rachel's chin up. He pushed a strand of hair back from her face and met her eyes.

“My best friend,” Rachel finished.

“Your best friend is…?”

“Yeah.”

“Guess this means you're not free for dinner,” he said, releasing her. “Can we talk later?”

Goose bumps sprouted on her arms where his hands had been. “Yeah.”

“Rachel,” Mary Beth said from behind her. “What's going on?”

“I'm sorry,” Ashe said. He half-waved at Mary Beth before heading down the sidewalk to his truck. He looked back at her just once, his shoulders slumped and the tension pinching his mouth into a thin line, before he closed the truck door behind him.