Page 22 of Solstice

“Perfect,” he said. “Be there, okay?”

“Okay.”

He slugged down his coffee and reached for his wallet. She held up a hand. “It’s on the house, Reverend Mackey.”

“Thanks, Lady Doreen.”

He headed out, and she felt herself smiling. It wasn’t the end of the world after all. People were not looking at her as if she’d grown another head. Maybe she’d underestimated the open- mindedness of Crescent Cove. Or overestimated the shock value of being Wiccan. Just because she’d run into a couple of narrow-minded bigots didn’t mean the whole town was that way. After all, there were Wiccans in every town these days. Why shouldn’t it begin being accepted as just another religion?

As she was serving a platter of sausage and eggs, Jason walked in and slid into a booth. She filled a fresh coffee mug and carried it to his table.

“Did you read it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. My day got off to a pleasant start and I don’t want anything to ruin it.”

“It won’t ruin it, hon. It’s good. Approaches the entire story from the angle of you having helped solve those seven missing-persons cases in New York, before giving up your high-powered job to move back home to Crescent Cove.” He laid a paper on the table, opened to the story. “Here.”

She picked it up, glancing nervously over her shoulder for any sign of her boss’s glower. There was a picture of her— she recognized it as one that had been used in a piece about her from a New Age magazine. The headline read: Hometown Heroine Back Where She Belongs. The story talked about her success in the big city, quoting other articles at length and crediting her with using her “uncanny skills” to help the police locate missing persons. It added that she was a High Priestess, elder and legal clergy of the Wiccan faith. And that was the only mention of her religion.

She sighed in relief.

“Not as bad as you thought, huh?” Jason asked.

“No. It’s not bad at all.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Me, too.”

He met her eyes. He wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. She so longed for him to tell her he was feeling the same things she was. She could see the attraction in his eyes every time he looked at her. She could feel it every time he touched her. Why was he holding back?

Could it be that he was liberal enough to understand Witchcraft but still unwilling to get involved with a Witch? She searched his eyes, hoping—waiting.

“I should go,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you saw it. And that you were okay. No one’s given you any trouble, have they?”

“No. None at all.”

“Good. Call if you need me.”

But I do need you, she thought. I need you right now, to end this aching loneliness. I'm tired of it. I can't stand it much longer.

“Dori?” he asked.

She’d lapsed into staring at him again. “I’ll call if I need you,” she promised. “Thanks, Jason.”

He smiled a little. “See what I told you? Crescent Cove isn’t a bad place at all. Might even be worth sticking around, don’t you think?”

She frowned at him, but he left before she could analyze his words or the message that she sensed hiding beneath them.

Chapter Six

She was still mulling over every word Jason had said, trying to read between the lines, when she walked to the parking lot to find that for once, her car didn’t require brushing off. No snow today. However, the lack of snow gave her a clear view of the blotch of bright red splattered across her windshield. It looked like paint.

“No.” She didn’t want this.

“Now, that’s a real shame,” a voice said.

Turning, Dori saw the old woman from that strange little candle shop, standing on the sidewalk, staring at the car and shaking her head. She wore a cloak-style coat, with fur that lined its edges and its hood, and she had a crooked walking stick in one hand. “Still,” she said, “I suppose it’s also a good sign.”

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