Page 3 of Kiss and Spell

Ursula sighed. “That sentence should be our town motto.”

Mama affixed tape to the poster’s four corners. “Hang that up for me.”

Ursula took the poster and placed it in the corner of the front window.

She watched the morning light filter through the paper hearts, making them sparkle through the poster. Was she seeing things? Of course. Magic, love, and high pollen count were in the air this spring. Years ago, Freya Grove went completely gaga over Smitten by the Shore and all the romantic lore connected to the event. Shops made specialty items, eateries created limited-edition treats, and romantic comedy movies were played at the local theater for a discounted price. Massive flower chains, balloon arches, and public proposals would be shared and reshared all over social media. There was even the Smitten Sweetheart Contest in which the town nominated locals looking for love and had a fancy ball to celebrate the end of the spring season.

“I thought it was gone for good,” Ursula said over her shoulder to Mama.

“So did I. I guess we were mistaken,” Mama said. “You know Grampa James used to say, ‘Anything can happen during Smitten Season, baby doll.’ He had his first leap and met your nana all in the same week.”

“I didn’t know that.” Ursula faced Mama. Those family members who had the gift of second sight sometimes were able to leap or project themselves into the future and experience it firsthand. She’d heard about the leap but had yet to have one yet. It was probably like jumping to the end of a book or fast-forwarding through a movie. Ursula often yearned for a remote to skip to the good parts of her life.

Mama gave a wistful sigh. “You knew your grandparents met at Smitten by the Shore.”

“Really, you’ve never told me,” Ursula said in an I’ve heard this story five hundred times tone.

“Don’t sass me.” Mama clucked. “Your grampa knew they were soul mates from the moment they kissed on the dance floor. They just clicked.”

Ah, yes. Here was yet another piece of family lore. The mystical click that every Caraway experienced when they met their soul mate. Since she was tiny, Ursula had loved the story of how James and Ruth Caraway found each other. They, according to family legend, fell in love over the course of an unforgettable evening at a Hopeful Heart Dance Marathon. Once upon a time, Ursula imagined she would feel the same way when she finally met her soul mate. But when she didn’t click with Lincoln, she convinced herself she’d feel it once she got to know him. In retrospect, she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. Ugh. Lincoln hadn’t spoken or even texted Ursula since he sent her that final message in the hotel ballroom. She never learned why he ditched her; all texts and emails went unanswered. It was too early in the day to think about her ex.

Mama squinted. “I thought you’d be happier to hear the news. You used to love Smitten.”

Ursula shrugged. “I used to… before.”

Neither of them talked, and the sound of emotional panpipes playing on the overhead speaker filled the tense silence. Ursula studied the tops of her scuffed boots so she wouldn’t have to see Mama’s face crease with worry. She didn’t like bringing up the past, so she did her best to forget what it was like when she believed in true love and fairy tales. There was a time when all she dreamed about was being surrounded by faithful woodland creatures, put under a powerful spell, and rescued from a hundred-year curse with an enchanted kiss. Ursula once yearned for a love that would be told and shared by her descendants to come. It would be a love that would be legendary. That time was long gone. She’d gotten a rude awakening once her supposed Prince Charming ditched her at the altar and left her to deal with returning wedding gifts and huge catering bills.

It was time to wake up and deal with real life.

Mama’s warm voice broke into her reverie. “You’ll find a reason to love it again.”

It was the note of optimism that made Ursula lift her eyes and look at Mama. There was a little worry on her face, but a glimmer of knowledge that eased the tension in her heart. Say something, Sula. Make her feel better.

“Stranger things have happened,” Ursula said. She mentally put this conversation in the For Later folder in her mind. Change the subject.

She pointed to the crystal clock on the wall. “Look at the time. We should get started.”

Mama nodded. It was showtime.

Ursula took her place at the reading table. It was outfitted with a handful of divination tools that she used during the day. She favored raw crystals and stones whenever she had to work. Touching those items made her feel grounded. Once in this seat, she transformed into Madame Caraway, the premiere psychic consultant to the Grove. Head witch in charge. Confident in life and love. Ursula pulled the crystal ball closer to the edge of the table. Her mere presence would beckon people from the sidewalk to come in and seek advice.

Ursula put up a placard sign in the window next to the poster. It read, Free reading with any store purchase. If a customer paid for any item, they were offered a reading at no extra charge. This policy had kept them in business for years and kept a roof over their heads during the lean times, when Mama was between acting jobs.

Ursula sat perched in the chair, watching the foot traffic. With every passing minute without a client, her confidence ebbed as the entire world passed by. No one gave her even a first glance. For a moment, Ursula yearned for everything she had wished away—her old life, her friendships, her reputation. She could divine everyone else’s future, but she couldn’t see her path forward. Ursula willed herself to stay in the mystical zone. Be Madame. Be still.

Eventually, customers wandered in, bought an item or two, and came over to her table for a reading. Many times, people wanted someone to share their secrets with, so Ursula gratefully obliged. She wiggled her hands over the crystal ball, read the images that appeared to her, then offered guidance. Ursula was in the zone, and clients sat up straighter and gained a twinkle of happiness in their eyes once their readings ended. During a brief lull, Ursula texted Gwen, her half-sister, to let her know that she was working through lunch and wouldn’t be by the bistro today. Six hours of wind chimes and ethereal lyrics playing overhead left Ursula feeling loose and calm.

Today was actually turning out to be a good shift.

It was a few minutes after five when he appeared in the front window. She knew that midnight-black designer peacoat, pressed khaki pants, and fresh sneakers anywhere. An odd blend of surprise and irritation spun through her, causing her to ache.

Lincoln Walker was back in the Grove.

He looked slimmer, lighter from when she’d last seen him in August. A small part of her wanted to know why he ghosted her, but the larger part wanted to throw his smartphone into the Atlantic. Questions popped up in her brain like phone notifications.

When did he get back in town? Does Marcus know? Should I say something to him?

Then Ursula noticed the pink cloud of a lady by his side. Her head was covered by a bubblegum-colored crocheted hat, a puffy jacket fitted over her solid curves. Her face was done up with flawless makeup. He gave her ass a tender squeeze, and she leaned back and chortled. Lincoln brightened and… blushed. He never blushed with Ursula. Something dreadful and painful twisted inside of her at this sight of domestic bliss.

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