Page 42 of Clearly Charmed

Clo’s hesitant gaze darted between me and Lia. ‘Did he find anything?’

‘Only what I wanted him to,’ I said.

Elena arched a brow. ‘Look at you being all sneaky and devious. Didn’t know you had it in you, but I love it.’

Clo was not as impressed. Neither was Lia by the dark looks she was tossing at me.

‘I have it under control.’

Lia started to say more but stopped when Judge Greene called for the crowd to be quiet. He began with asking a few of the farmers about the state of their entries, making sure we hadn’t lost too many of the veggies in the recent storms. When he’d learned almost everyone had saved their prized vegetables, he moved on to general business. First he asked about traffic control during the festival and volunteers needed for the pie-eating contest. The crowd murmured when he explained the new rules for the knives at the vegetable-carving competition, considering last year we’d had more than one over-eager participant who required stitches at the local emergency room.

Movement flickered in the corner of the amphitheater. Bryce took a seat on a stone bench on the lower left side of the venue. An old-fashioned reporter’s notepad sat in his right hand. A pen in his left hovered over the page. In the fading afternoon light his hair was the color of warm copper. That floating feeling spread across my chest and I pushed it away.

I had to see him as the enemy. As the person who could make my life, the life of my family, miserable. But still, I couldn’t shake the memory of his mouth against mine that night in the clinic. The throaty gasp he made as I parted the seam of his lips with my tongue. How hot he looked in the library with a pencil tucked behind his ear, those colored Post-its spread out across his research notebook.

‘You’re staring,’ Elena whispered in a giddy voice.

‘Not true. I’m only amused that he thinks he’s going to learn anything here for his precious article.’

‘Sure,’ she said with a taunting laugh.

It was, well, partially true, because these meetings consisted of exactly three things: Judge Greene thinking this was his courtroom, barking out for quiet. Mo complaining about not getting a steep enough discount from the local brewers for the event, and Clo telling everyone to shut their traps and get on with it. It was good entertainment but not very informative.

The judge went on talking, asking for feedback on how the booths should be set up this year. Explaining how we were not doing the outdoor s’mores station due to the high fire risk, which caused more than a few unhappy grumbles in the crowd.

When he started strategizing about how the vegetables were going to be loaded in for the judging, Ernie Brewer raised his hand and asked about using a wheelbarrow to deliver his oversized eggplant. Elena let out a sharp laugh. Things only got worse when Jacob Newman insisted his cucumber was larger than Ernie’s eggplant. This time, a loud snort escaped Lia’s lips. Not to be outdone, Miriam Solarum raised her hand to ask about where to put her giant peach, and a roaring laugh flew out of my own mouth.

The judge tossed an angry look in our direction and Lia, Elena and I huddled together, trying to stop our laughter.

Clo leaned back and said, ‘Whenever you girls are ready to grow up and ignore the not-so-subtle references to how the internet has turned vegetable emojis into sexual body parts, we can move on.’

I slapped a hand over my mouth when Ms Ruthie inquired what the peach emoji meant.

When we finally calmed down, the judge started asking about parking and security, and ten hands went up with questions. Elena groaned and plopped her head on my shoulder, her eyes shuttering closed. ‘Wake me when they make some, well, any decisions.’

Lia snapped her wrist to look at her watch. ‘That’ll be in like three hours.’

My attention floated back to Bryce, who was now staring in my direction. He gave a quick wave and Lia let out another disapproving huff.

‘Lee, trust me,’ I pleaded quietly.

Her irritated stare stayed firmly in place as she bent to give Flora a scrub behind her ears.

Bryce went back to focusing on the meeting, and I thought about the journal I’d slid into my bag. The rumors about Ambrosia and the fire. Clo leaned over to whisper to Ms Ruthie, her hands settled in her lap. They were small. Browned from working in her garden. Normal. Not tinged with magic.

I pictured that scene around the stone circle again. The jarring snap of her fingers echoing through the cool night air. The smoke and flicker of orange flame coming to life in the pit. I was a child then. I was imaginative. Made up stories for my sisters at bedtime. Maybe I’d conjured up that memory of Clo too.

‘And Dr McGuire will handle the children’s area…’

That pulled me right out of my thoughts. Made my hand shoot straight up. ‘I’m sorry, Judge. What was that?’

‘The children’s area. The face painting. Balloon-animal station. Strawberry-dipping booth. Lia said you’d take it over.’

Dread curled in my stomach. The children’s area was an exercise in chaos every year. Kids sobbing when their balloon animals popped because they hugged them too tightly. Hands, faces, even hair, sometimes drenched in the melted white and milk chocolate used for strawberry dipping.

Last year, the pharmacist and his wife, Nora, took on the job, and by the end of the festival they resembled battle-scarred warriors, if warriors were covered in multiple layers of chocolate.

‘Did she now?’