Page 10 of Jingle Spells (Hedgewitch 5)

But if I’d been expecting to find something, a secret compartment or some other reason why the thief would have tried to get the figure open, I couldn’t locate it. No, I was holding an inert lump of wood and nothing more.

“Can I help you?”

I looked up from baby Jesus and saw Father Estevez standing a few feet away, expression a study in surprise. He was mostly bald, with a fringe of white hair that reminded me of the tonsures monks once wore, and if he’d been wearing something more festive for mass earlier, he was now back in his usual black priestly garb.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, and quickly placed the figure of baby Jesus back in the cradle. A sudden flare of heat in my cheeks told me I was probably blushing furiously. Talk about looking guilty. “It’s just that Josie told me the figure had been returned, and I thought if I came over and touched it, I might be able to get an idea of who took it in the first place.”

For a moment, Father Estevez didn’t say anything, as though he was doing his best to digest what I had just said and determine the best response. Then he replied, “I see. This is a gift of yours?”

“Well, I don’t know if I would call it a ‘gift’ exactly,” I said modestly, glad that he hadn’t looked too shocked, or as though he might be contemplating calling up a posse to dunk me in the nearest pond to see whether I would float. “It kind of comes and goes, so it’s not something I can rely on. But it’s helped me a few times in the past, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

“That was kind of you, child.” He paused and glanced back toward the church, toward the newly installed security cameras. His mouth thinned slightly. “But we are all hoping this sort of thing won’t happen again, and we should all hope that whoever took the Christ child has repented and learned that the wages of sin are evil.”

“Um, right,” I replied. “Yes, let’s hope they learned their lesson.”

And I knew I should leave matters there. I didn’t see the point in telling him about my suspicions that someone might have tried to open the back of the carved figure, not when it seemed as though my own efforts on that front had been entirely fruitless.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’d barked up the wrong tree.

We said our goodbyes then, and he invited me to Christmas Mass, saying, “For God looks on all as his children, especially at this holy time of year.”

I stammered a thank-you and told him I’d think about it, and then beat a hasty retreat. While I knew I could safely enter St. Ignatius and not burst into flames — my attendance at Danny Ortega’s funeral a month earlier had proved that particular fact to everyone in Globe — I still didn’t see myself attending mass any time soon.

This witch had her limits, after all.

* * *

I went over to Calvin’s that night and made dinner, then stayed over. It felt wonderful to have a perfectly normal evening together, even though he studiously avoided any mention of our encounter with his parents at the Festival of Lights. Gauging his mood, I hadn’t said anything about that unexpected meeting, even though I secretly had to wonder if Delia had only been polite because we’d been somewhere public and she hadn’t wanted to be rude where other people could hear us, or whether it was possible — just faintly possible — that she might be softening a bit toward me.

I sincerely hoped it might be the latter, even though I feared I was allowing the spirit of the season to get my hopes up.

But because I had to be at work on Monday…and knew it was going to be busy…I’d kissed him goodbye that morning and headed home before eight. I’d left food for Archie the night before so he wouldn’t have to wait on his breakfast, but that didn’t keep him from commenting sarcastically why I bothered to keep a separate apartment when I was never there.

“That’s a little over-dramatic, don’t you think?” I inquired. By that point, I’d showered and gotten some yogurt, and given the cat an extra salmon treat just to head off comments like those…so much for that idea. I added, “I mean, I’m here at least half the time. And it’s perfectly normal for people who’re dating to spend a lot of time at each other’s houses.”

“If you say so,” he responded, which was Archie-speak for knowing he had to give me some sort of reply, but also realizing that he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on.

And because he obviously didn’t want to prolong the conversation and therefore continue to acknowledge he might not be entirely in the right, he headed off toward my office so he could get his morning beauty sleep in peace.

Fine by me. I needed to get down to the shop anyway.

I locked up the apartment — probably an unnecessary precaution, but old habits died hard — and made my way downstairs. Since I only had a few minutes before it was time to open the store, I got right to work, loading cash into the register, taking a quick tour around the place to make sure everything was in order. Doing so didn’t require much effort, since I’d tidied as I’d performed inventory on Sunday, and Once in a Blue Moon was already in tiptop shape.

Unlike over the weekend, no one was waiting outside when I unlocked the door. Had I been a bit too optimistic in my expectations about the holiday crowds this week?

Well, even if I had, Friday and Saturday had been such banner sales days that I really couldn’t complain too much. And it was still early. I tended to get the majority of my foot traffic in the afternoon, once people had gotten lunch out of the way and had decided they might as well wander a bit.

I was just turning back toward the cash register when the bells on the front door jangled. The “can I help you?” died on my lips when I saw who my first shopper of the day was.

Delia Standingbear.

For a second, I just stared at her. What in the world was she doing here?

Before I could say anything, she spoke.

“Hello, Selena. I thought we could talk for a bit.”

“Um…sure,” I managed. Then, because I didn’t want to sound like a complete idiot, I added, “It’s so nice to see you. Is there something in particular I can help you with?”

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