Page 38 of Charlotte's Story
I folded the note and slipped it into my pocket, butterflies stirring in my stomach. It was finally happening. But now I couldn’t tell if I was excited about the thought of the shop or the thought of opening it with William.
“I love eggs for breakfast,” he said from behind me. “Although I’ve never seen them cooked this way before.”
I jumped a little. “This is a tamagoyaki, or a Japanese rolled omelet. My aunt knows I love them.”
“That’s the third match in our preferences.” He smiled at me.
“You said you don’t like cocoa, so this one is for you,” I said, our hands brushing as I passed him the mug. He froze for a moment, but then his smile grew at the small touch. I pulled my hand back, blushing furiously.
“That was very thoughtful of you.” His other hand traced the rim of the cup, revealing another glimpse of his palm. His hand still had that sigil, a mark that was clearly a sign of a defensive spell he’d cast instead of a killing one.
“Maybe you were defending Dahlia instead of yourself,” I mused aloud.
“Maybe.” He glanced at the scrolling mark on his palm. “I’d like to think so.”
We ate a quick brunch, then headed into town. We pulled into a spot near Regency Meadow Park and walked through the streets to get a feel for how the festival decorations were going considering the situation with the missing star.
William held out his hand to me, a silent invitation to take it. My cheeks heated, but I slid my hand into his.
Christmas decorations filled the space, everything in full-swing for the tree lighting ceremony despite the missing star. A group of kids made snowmen and snow angels using the fresh inches of snow we’d gotten last night. Another child stood next to a candy-cane-shaped booth titledLetters to Santa, scribbling furiously.
At Lady Catherine’s booth, Merrick sold a few ornaments to someone. A quick scan of the park showed that Maris was at another booth. The brownie collected a frost-painted portrait of her and Merrick from Pennyfern’s booth, their names glinting in an elegant scrawl across the top. The little sprite handled the painting with surprising ease even though it was twice her size.
I bit my lip and stopped in front of the Tea and Tarot. “I know you don’t want to consider it, but I feel like we can’t cross Lady Catherine off the suspect list just yet.” I took a moment to tell him what I’d seen in the memory ornament at her house and how she had no alibi for that night.
“There could have been a logical reason for her to say something that sounded like a threat. I don’t want to assume I understood her intent.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
I shook my head. “Maybe, but we can’t afford to be blinded by loyalty. I’m not against looking for other suspects, but I think we need to keep an open mind.”
He sighed. “I’ll consider it, but making an accusation without objective evidence would be irresponsible.”
“We’ll keep an open mind,” I promised.
“I like that ‘we.’’” He gave me a small smile. “Thank you for not making assumptions without evidence. I think loyalty reduces uncertainty—like a constant in a complex equation. Protecting Lady Catherine fits that logic, and I’d apply the same reasoning to your family, if necessary.”
His words stopped me cold. His fierce loyalty wasn’t blind; it was a careful kind of love, the kind that shaped his every move. I’d been ready to scoff at him for it, but hadn’t I been doing the same? I let my family’s expectations mold my choices, my fears, my heart, just like he’d let Lady Catherine shape his life. I’d sacrificed so much and called it strength.
Maybe it was. But maybe William’s loyalty wasn’t weakness, either. And now that we were together, maybe we could find our own way.
The door jingled as we walked in, playing “Here Comes Santa Claus.” We walked under the evergreen garland framing the door and I inhaled the smell of orange and cloves—the perfect scent for a candle. Unmelting snow dusted the walls and shelves even as red and green candles floated overhead. A couple sat ata round table in the corner getting their fortune told by Madame Rosa, a dryad who peered into a crystal ball.
“Hey, Charlotte.” Tessa waved us over to her table, then tucked a lock of her brown bob behind an ear. We wove between a few others, which all had peppermint sticks decorating the tables, and passed by the reading nook now draped in red velvet and mistletoe.
“Hey.” I gave her a quick hug while William shuffled his weight from foot to foot behind me.
She nodded at William, shooting him a cursory glance, then focused on me. “So what is it you said you wanted to talk about?”
“It’s about Dahlia,” I said. “William thinks that she might’ve been the target after all.”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you serious? Why?”
“I’m not positive,” William said, “but I think my memory from that night at least partially came back while I slept. I remember her coming to me for help, and I think she was in trouble.”
Tessa chewed her lip. “That changes things.”
“I’m not sure how to interpret it yet,” William said, “but I also believe it’s noteworthy.”
“I know you mentioned that the two of you were pretty close, so we were hoping you might have some more information.” I rested my elbows on the table and leaned forward.
