Page 48 of A Lullaby for Witches

Augusta sat up straighter. “Wait, go back. What was that name?”

“Which one? Crenshaw?”

“No, before that.”

“Um, let’s see. Montrose?”

Augusta’s mind whirred. It couldn’t be a coincidence. The universe was all but throwing the name at her, making certain that she understood without a doubt that she was connected in some way to the Harlowe family, to Margaret.

“Hey, you still there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here,” she said quickly. “It’s just that name... I think I know it. Can you read me the context it appears in, in the letter?”

The rustle of papers again. “It looks like she might have been a member of the extended family? Ida references Jemima’s relatives being in town for a visit. It was her maiden name.”

Augusta’s ears buzzed, her heart beating faster. How had she missed it on the Harlowe tree? Margaret’s mother was a Montrose, which meant that Margaret was a Montrose.

“Are you okay?”

She came out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I just think that I... I think I might be related to Margaret?”

Now it was Leo’s turn to be stunned into silence. “Really? Is your family name Montrose?”

“Way, way back apparently.”

“Damn. That’s huge.” They were both digesting the significance of this when Leo suddenly spoke again. “Not to change the subject, but while I have you on the phone...” He trailed off and Augusta waited expectantly. “I—I was wondering if you were free after work next Friday? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat?”

She must not have heard him right because it sounded like he was asking her out. When she didn’t say anything, he hurried on. “I know that you just went through a breakup, and I totally get if you aren’t ready to go out or whatever. It can just be two friends having dinner if that’s—”

“No, I mean, yes. Yes, I would love to go.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You sound surprised. Did you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Not surprised, just, glad.”

She almost asked who Lisa was, but thought better of it. Augusta was trying to think of what to say that wouldn’t make it sound like she’d been pining for him almost two months, when she heard Jill calling her from down the steps. “I’m glad, too,” she said. “Hey, I have to run, but see you next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything, Miss Montrose.”

When Augusta came in on Monday, she was surprised to find Leo working in the ballroom. With their date on Friday, Augusta had a new feeling of butterflies when she saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor, a nautical tattoo she had never noticed before peeking out from his shirtsleeve.

At her footsteps, he turned, his face brightening. “Hey, Jill said you were working in the carriage house today so I figured I wouldn’t see you. Lucky me,” he added with a crooked grin.

“Just needed to grab something,” she said, waving a notebook she’d forgotten the day before. “I’m heading to the carriage house now, but give a shout if you need me.”Please need me, she added to herself.

It was quiet in the carriage house with the late autumn rain pattering on the roof. Augusta set herself up to work, putting a new playlist on her phone. Most of the boxes left were uninteresting, hardware and rusted knickknacks. There were some musty old mattresses that would probably be documented and then disposed of. Augusta got into a rhythm of taking photos, jotting notes and then moving on to the next object on the shelves. She was clipping along, taking a photo of some old lawn ornaments, when her phone slipped from her hand.

She scrambled to catch it, but it clanked to the floor, skidding under the dusty shelf. Crouching, she groped to find it, only to push it farther back by accident. Damn, she would have to find a broom or something so she could fish it out. She stood up, but was hit with a wave of light-headedness. Wincing, she braced herself against a shelf, blinking against the stars in her eyes. She’d forgotten to bring her water bottle with her and was probably a little dehydrated.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when, on clearing her vision, she was met with a very different view of the carriage house than when she’d closed her eyes. She shouldn’t have been surprised when she smelled the sweet scent of hay, or the musk of old leather either. Yet as her gaze wandered over the carriages and horse tackle, she caught her breath.

What had she been looking for? Her phone? The concept of a phone itself grew fuzzy and indistinct. No, she had been looking for an herb, that’s right. Thyme. Well, she wasn’t going to find it in the carriage house. Wiping her hands off on her apron, she went out to go to the stillroom.

Molly was outside hanging linens on the line. When she saw Augusta, she scowled. “I caught that dog of yours in the root cellar,” she said, her Irish accent heavy with distaste. “Mind he doesn’t eat something that might not agree with him.”

Augusta nodded, but she had no intention of reprimanding Shadow. He was a good dog, and her truest friend. As she went to let herself into the house, she caught her reflection in the glass panes of the door and couldn’t help but admire how fine her long, dark curls looked, how her complexion glowed.

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