Page 1 of Kiss and Spell

March

THIS MONTH’S BIRTHSTONE: AQUAMARINE

Aquamarine, from the Latin for “seawater,” is believed to protect seafarers and seafolk. This stone is thought to bring intellect and personal happiness.

Chapter One

Today had the potential to be a stressful adventure.

First, Ursula slept through both her alarms. Somehow, she set her phone to silent and then forgot to turn the sound back on.

Second, as she rushed to finish breakfast, she spilled her peanut butter and chia oats all over her work clothes. Then, Ursula ended up splashing coffee mixed with flavored creamer on her backup outfit.

“Why?” she squeaked.

No one wanted to have their future read by someone who smelled of dried coffee and holiday cookies. But the only clean clothes she had available were her pajamas or the special events costume. Ursula shuddered. It was reserved for Renaissance fairs or moon markets when she was hired to read fortunes during the summer. No matter how many times she stuffed the pockets with cleansing parsley and lavender, it still had this odd vibe attached.

Like a pack a duffel bag and run away with a traveling carnival type of vibe.

She checked the time on her phone and groaned. The shop opened in less than five minutes. It was either wear the costume and be a little late or take the day off and wash all her dirty clothes, and she needed money to hit her checking account, like yesterday. She had plants to feed and weekly groceries to buy. There was only one choice. Ursula dug out the costume from her closet and changed quickly. It smelled of stale roses and was covered in chunky glitter. She gave the outfit a quick, generous spray of homemade fabric freshener in the bathroom. Now, it smelled like old flowers with a hint of lemon and eucalyptus. Fantastic.

She popped in her contacts and left her glasses by her bedside table. Ursula gave her reflection in the mirror one last look and let out a huff. All she saw was a hot, yet cute mess draped in a paisley print headband, too-tight peasant blouse, and floral print maxi skirt.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the foxiest of them all?” she muttered.

Ursula fought the urge to yank off the outfit and get back into bed.

Instead, she went all the way and completed the look with a faux leather brown bootie.

Boho vibes all day.

Even though she was in a hurry, Ursula couldn’t forget about tending to her plants. She went out the bedroom and over to the window that looked out on the street. Sunshine flittered down upon the row of overgrown plants and raw crystals that were set up on the sill.

Ursula quickly watered them and did a quick twirl. “How do I look, y’all?”

The plants’ leaves seemed to swivel away from her general direction.

“Well, at least I think I look cute,” she said with a smirk.

She grabbed her keys, purse, and phone and ran out of the apartment. Thankfully, Ursula only had to report downstairs for work since she lived right above the shop. Despite the convenient location, she found herself running late at least once a week. Maybe it was time for a career change. Ursula wouldn’t mind being stuck in an office making copies or typing in data if it meant she’d be left alone to wallow in her grumpiness.

She quit her consultancy job last fall because she couldn’t trust herself to make good choices anymore. The nonwedding didn’t merely damage her confidence; it crushed it into fine dust. During one memorable office lunch, Ursula’s co-worker had innocently asked her whether she wanted guacamole or salsa on her taco salad. Unable to pick a topping after five minutes, Ursula quietly took her salad, went to her desk, and wrote a letter of resignation.

She had messed up her own life; she didn’t want to hurt her clients with her indecision.

It was ridiculously difficult to get a new job, especially after future employers could search her name and discover the entire wedding drama. She had an online footprint the size of an asteroid crater. The Freya Grove Press article was the first thing that popped up when anyone searched her online. Search the phrases big-hearted bride or bad luck bride and a picture of her frowning in that bohemian antique lace dress popped up like a relentless horror movie villain haunting her. Jobs dried up faster than cotton underwear in a hot dryer once people learned the whole story.

So, for six to eight hours a day, Ursula sat in the front window of Mama’s psychic shop perched over Great-Aunt Lulu’s rediscovered crystal ball. She was on full display for the entire town and felt like a circus sideshow, a carnival barker’s brassy, drawling voice ringing in her brain. Step right up, step right up! Come view the psychic who couldn’t predict her own future! Her groom jilted her with a text! Marvel at her gullibility! Bring your funnel cake!

At this point, Ursula just existed in a constant state of embarrassment that kept her off balance, like she was wearing her shoes on the wrong feet. She thought about leaving town and starting over, but she only ever got as far as Toms River before she turned and went back.

Caraways didn’t run. Ever. The Grove was home, and she wasn’t going to leave in shame.

Enough with the past. Her present waited for her to show up and work.

The door chime jangled as Ursula entered Light as a Feather. Deep purple curtains hung from the high ceiling to the floor, giving the shop the intended mystic vibes. Bone-white shelves were filled with various items—large books, sparkly amethyst geodes, and tall pillar candles—used to aid customers in tapping into their natural intuition. There were wooden bowls filled with different types of tumbled crystals from amazonite to rose quartz in the glass display. A reading table tucked under the front window was decorated with a printed cloth and artfully set divination tools. A purple beaded curtain led to a storage space/back room and office. The music that played overhead was a blend of lyrical humming and bouncing flutes. Cone incense burned on the wood counter, filling the space with the distinctive smell of fresh earth. One sniff instantly eased any frantic energy Ursula felt from this morning’s chaos.

Mama, the one and only Ms. Niesha Caraway, former soap opera star and current shop owner, stood at the counter ready to sell orange blossom soap to forthcoming customers. She wore her usual ensemble, a dark blue and white star-covered belted kaftan that displayed her buxom shape. Turquoise jewelry and silver statement rings adorned her body and stood out against her tawny skin. Her gray hair was clipped close to her head, showing off the elegant curve of her scalp.

---