“It’s a lovely little shop you have.”

  “I think so.” I slid my locket along its chain.

  “I’ve done a little research on you, Ms. Hartwell. Reports say you’re a witch. That the potions you sell . . . are magical. True?”

  “I’ve done a little research on you, too, Senator. Reports say you’re a playboy, that some of your money might not be all that clean, and that if people get too close to exposing who you really are, you have them killed. True?”

  He let out a laugh, which surprised the hell out of me.

  He said, “I see ‘feisty’ was an understatement. Let’s see. I haven’t been a playboy in years, my money is no one’s business, and I don’t believe in the death penalty . . . for anyone.”

  It was my turn to laugh.

  “I’m not sure why it’s amusing, Ms. Hartwell, but it’s the God’s honest truth. Now, I’m not saying I’m a saint. There have been plenty of times I’ve done something I shouldn’t have to protect my family, but you tend to reassess morality in those situations. Family comes first.”

  “Said like a true presidential candidate.”

  Wincing, he said, “Said like a man who’s made some mistakes. I’m withdrawing from the presidential election come Monday. I’ll fulfill the remaining three years of my term as senator, then I will reevaluate my political aspirations.”

  He’d shocked me again. “Does your withdrawal from the presidential election have to do with Katie Sue’s death?”

  “My plans have been in place for several weeks now. What has happened to Kathryn is a tragedy,” he said, “as she was a bright, lovely, somewhat misguided, young woman, but her death is not the reason for my withdrawal.”

  “What is?”

  “It’s a personal matter.”

  “Personal, like your affair with her?” I prodded. “I bet if that leaked now, then in three years it will long be forgiven and forgotten.”

  Shock flashed across his face, and then he laughed again. “An affair? Did she tell you that?”

  His reaction startled me. Well, no. She hadn’t. But her actions had certainly led me to believe it. “Do you deny it?”

  “Of course.”

  What did I think he would say? “I know Katie Sue had dirt on you. The manila envelope? The attacks on the mail carriers? Any of this ring a bell?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Wryly, I said, “Now you’re just insulting me.”

  He quietly strolled to the wall of potion bottles. “Kathryn and I were not having an affair,” he stated again.

  Frustrated, I let down my guard to read his energy. He wasn’t lying about Katie Sue, and it took only a second to realize why he would renounce his candidacy. That reason overshadowed all his other energy.

  Stunned, I drew in a deep breath. If Katie Sue hadn’t been his mistress . . . How had I been so wrong? She’d spoken of love and Warren being a puppet master and getting what she wanted from him . . . I was beyond confused.

  I took hold of my locket. “How long have you known that you’re ill?”

  Startled, he pivoted. “Pardon?”

  I went about gathering a half dozen ingredients including ginger and white willow bark. “The cancer. How long have you known?”

  “A month,” he answered. “I haven’t told anyone about it. Other than my doctors, you’re the only person who knows.” Suspicion crossed his features. “How did you know?”

  “Witch, remember?” I asked, not wanting to explain my empathy abilities. “Are you in treatment yet?”

  “No. I wanted to wait until after the wedding.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I saw the way Gabi’s face healed when she used the lotion you gave her. It was nothing short of . . . miraculous. I was hoping you’d have something to help me.”

  “What have your doctors said?” I asked cautiously.

  “They’ve advised me that the cancer is terminal but they can buy me some time. Six months, maybe a year.”

  The cancer was, indeed, terminal. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. When I opened them again, I looked at him straight on. “I’m going to give you some advice. You don’t have to take it, but I have to give it. Despite any conflict we might have between us regarding Katie Sue, I’m not one to see someone needlessly suffer.”

  “Go on.”

  “Announce your resignation from all politics on Monday. Travel. Explore. Tend your garden. Ride your horses. Spend time with the people who matter most.”

  “What’re you saying?”

  I bit a nail. “I can make you a potion to help with the pain, but I can’t cure terminal ailments. The cancer in your body is everywhere.” I held his gaze. “You have two to four months at most. It’s up to you how you spend your remaining time, but if I were you, I wouldn’t want it to be spent in hospital hooked up to machines.”

  Shoving a hand into his hair, his voice was hoarse as he asked, “I’ll take your opinion under advisement.” Looking up, I saw dampness in his eyes. “If I’d sought treatment a month ago . . . ?”

  I didn’t want to tell him the truth. That a month ago his prognosis might have been so much brighter. This was an aggressive form of cancer—it had done a lot of damage in four weeks.

  Then I realized the cosmic irony of it all. He’d put off getting treatment to go to a wedding he’d deviously planned so he could get elected. Now, he’d never see election day.

  I figured the truth would only hurt more, so I finally said, “It might have given you a little more time, but your type of cancer is aggressive and invasive . . . I doubt your outcome would be any different.”

  He sat on one of the worktable stools and dragged a hand down his face. “You said you can help with the pain?”

  “I’ll mix it up now.”

  “Why would you help me?” he asked, searching my face with ravaged eyes. “Especially in light of Kathryn’s hatred of me?”

  “I’m a healer,” I said simply. “I rarely like to see anybody suffer.”

  “Rarely?”

  “I have my moments.”

  “Don’t we all,” he said drolly.

  Drumming my fingers on the tabletop, I decided to see how much I could get out of Warren Calhoun. Being ill didn’t preclude him from being involved with Katie Sue’s death. “Katie Sue told me she was trying to get you to change your mind about something. What was that?” If it hadn’t been about him leaving Louisa, I was really at a loss.

  “I’ve no idea what Kathryn wanted from my family,” he said.

  Another lie. He hadn’t quite figured out that I could read his deceptions.

  He added, “And I don’t have any idea what happened to her. No matter how hard you want to paint me as a villain, I wasn’t involved in her death.”

  I was shocked to feel that he was telling the truth on that matter.

  I tried to put together the pieces. He didn’t want to tell me what Katie Sue wanted from him, but whatever it was hadn’t led him to kill her. Were they two separate matters, after all? Had her killer been a little closer to home?

  “Perhaps a closer look at her felonious family is in order,” he said as though reading my mind.

  Squinting at him, I said, “Did you send a note to them that she was in town?”

  “Me? No.”

  Again, he was being truthful.

  I asked, “Do you know who did?”

  “No.”

  A lie. “Was it Louisa?”

  “Not at all.”

  Another lie. So, it had been Louisa who’d notified the Cobbs that Katie Sue was in town. What a sweet, sweet woman. Bless her heart.

  The thought reminded me of what Katie Sue had said about Gabi—and her wedding. “What did Katie Sue have to do with Gabi?”

  His heart rate kicked up. “I don’t know what you mean. They barely knew each other.”

  I was on to something, but I didn’t know what. Not yet. “What was in the envelope Katie Sue mailed to me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ah, ah.” I waved a finger at him. “That’s a lie.”

  His eyes darkened. “I suggest, Ms. Hartwell, that you forget you ever knew about an envelope.”

  “Is that a threat, Senator?”

  “Take it as you will. I, however, am through discussing Kathryn Perry. If that means you won’t help me with one of your elixirs, so be it.”

  Indeed, I was regretting helping him at all, but the damn healer in me didn’t want to see him suffer. “I’ll be right ba—” I stopped midsentence as another couple came in. I gave them a friendly smile, told them to look around, and said to Warren, “I’m just going to mix this up for you.”

  He snagged my arm. “Wait—before you do . . .”

  “What?”

  He dropped his voice. “Do you have anything that cures hair loss?”

  Despite my irritation with him, this I had to hear. I leaned in eagerly, wondering if Louisa had gone bald overnight. “You know someone losing their hair?”

  “I don’t know if it’s the stress of the wedding being canceled or what,” he said, “but Landry’s hair is falling out in clumps.”

  My mouth dropped. “Landry?”

  “At this rate, he’s going to be completely bald in a couple of days.”

  “I, um, think I might have something,” I murmured.

  As I bustled about, I kept thinking about Landry and his hair. And wondering how in the world he’d been the one who’d gotten hexed.

  * * *

  An hour later, Warren was long gone and I was still trying to figure out the hex situation when John Richard Baldwin sailed through the door. He was dressed in business casual, and I had to wonder if he was working today or, like his boss, always dressed in his Sunday best.

  “Hey, Hilda,” he said.

  I smiled. “Hi, Uncle John Richard.”

  “Well, sadly,” he said, ducking his head as he walked toward the counter, “I believe you may have to drop the uncle part. Hazel has informed me that her attentions have swayed elsewhere. She cut me loose.”

  I didn’t know whether to think it funny or sad that she actually believed she had a relationship with him.

  He said, “Such a shame. Just when I was getting used to the thought of us being family and all.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “You didn’t whack Earl, did you?”

  He laughed. “No, but I’d like to thank whoever did. I had no idea how to dissolve an imaginary relationship.”

  “That’s a new one for me, too, and I’ve helped plenty of people end relationships.”

  His smile lit his face. “Can I still call you Hilda?”

  “It might be time to switch to Carly.”

  “Maybe so,” he said. “The end of an era. Let’s have a moment of silence.” He dropped his head again.

  He’d clearly spent much too much time with my dramatic family. “What brings you in? You looking for a love potion now that you’re a free man?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll bask in my bachelorhood for a while. Caleb sent me over. I’ve got the goods on Kathryn Perry’s will. You didn’t hear it from either of us, though. Sharing this kind of info before the will is probated is strictly verboten.”

  “Look at you throwing around fancy words.”

  He grinned. “Helps me remember that I actually went to college for seven years.”

  “And also helps you forget that you’re now the best-educated administrative assistant in Alabama?”

  “That’s right.”

  “My lips are sealed. What’s the scoop?”

  He leaned in. “It’s not terribly exciting. Everything she has goes to her younger sister, Jamie Lynn. An estate upward of four million dollars. She’s invested well.”

  I knew. I’d seen the financial papers.

  In another month, on her twenty-first birthday, Jamie Lynn would have access to a trust worth a million dollars. Now she was set to inherit another four million on top of that.

  My word. I couldn’t even fathom that kind of money.

  “When will Jamie Lynn find out?” I asked.

  “Probably in the next week or two. Kathryn’s lawyer will contact her directly. Unless she shares the info with you . . .” He zipped his lips.

  “Got it.”

  The door shot open and Gabi came rushing in. Her hair was tucked into a ball cap, she didn’t have on a speck of makeup, and there were still vile-looking stitches on her face, but she was still stunning.

  “Carly, you’ll never guess!” She pulled up short. “Oh, sorry!”

  “Gabi Greenleigh, John Richard Baldwin,” I introduced.

  “Hi,” she said to him. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “It’s okay,” I answered, because John Richard had gone suddenly mute. “What’s up?”

  “I thought about what you said this morning, about having time to decide what I want to do. And that moment, at your kitchen table, I realized I didn’t want to leave.”

  “I, ah—” I stuttered, wondering what to say without hurting her feelings. “There’s no room at my inn.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t mean with you. I meant here in this town. I like it here.” A smile lit her face. “I like the people. So, I went into town to find an apartment to rent, but bumped into your mama and next thing I knew I signed a lease to rent the apartment above the chapel.”

  I’d lived there for years before buying Grammy Fowl’s house. “You’re sure you want to stay here in Hitching Post?” I asked Gabi. “This town isn’t like what you’re used to.” She had loads of money and could go pretty much anywhere she wanted in the world.

  “I think that’s why I like it so much,” she said. “I just need to find a job now to keep busy, but I can tackle that later. Your mama said I could move in on Monday. Right now she’s using the apartment to store all the flowers from my wedding until she can figure out what to do with them.” Her eyes glistened.

  Maybe a change like this was exactly what she needed.

  “I need to get my things from Shady Hollow, so I’m headed back there today to pack up. I’ve got to run, so much to do, but I wanted to let you know. I can’t thank you enough for being a friend to me when I needed one most.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at her sincerity. “You’re very welcome, Gabi.”

  “I’ll be back on Monday morning. ’Bye, John Richard.” She waved as she zipped toward the door as fast as she’d come in.

  He waved back.

  After she was gone, he finally found his voice. “She’s moving? Here?”

  “Yep,” I said. “It seems that way.”

  His eyes went round as MoonPies.

  I couldn’t help but tease. “How’s that bachelorhood looking now?”

  “Like the most foolish decision I ever made, and oh, I’ve made a few.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I think I need to get a haircut. See you later, Carly.”

  “Thanks for the info,” I yelled as he beelined for the door.

  I shook my head, grateful that he hadn’t asked for a love potion to use on her, because I wouldn’t have given it to him. She needed time to figure out who she was. If love came on its own, that’d be fine, but I wasn’t going to push it on her. I would have given him a phony potion, a fake. The old switcheroo.

  The old switcheroo.

  Mercy! Suddenly, I recalled something Gabi had said about switching her drink for Landry’s when she changed her mind about giving him the potion.

  She’d given him her drink.

  It had been the one hexed, not his.

  Katie Sue Perrywinkle had wanted Gabi’s hair to fall out, and had gone to great lengths to make it happen.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  A little while later, I still didn’t have an answer to why Katie Sue would be so vindictive toward Gabi. I’d read Gabi’s energy the day we’d bumped into Katie Sue behind Marjie’s house—there had been nothing but mild confusion at Katie Sue’s behavior. No ill will. No hostility.

  Whatever it was between them had been one-sided.

  It was obvious now, too, that Katie Sue had lied to me about not liking Gabi. The anger she’d felt had been directed at Gabi. I’d dismissed it, wanting to believe her, and that was foolish. I needed to learn to trust my instincts more.

  I’d called Delia to talk it over with her, but she didn’t have any ideas, either. They didn’t know each other well at all, had no tiffs with each other, and it left both Delia and me puzzled.

  Katie Sue’s words rang in my head.

  She’s just so perfect, isn’t she? Perfect upbringing, perfect skin, perfect manners, perfect everything.

  Maybe as Ainsley had suggested, Katie Sue had been jealous of Gabi’s hair all along.

  But I kept going back to Katie Sue’s last comment that afternoon—the last ones I ever heard her say.

  Well, despite her perfection, I actually feel bad for Gabi because she doesn’t have any idea that her perfect little world is about to fall apart.

  In all that had happened, I’d forgotten those words, but now they rang in my head like a big ol’ warning bell.

  My palms dampened, and I wiped them on my shorts. Katie Sue certainly couldn’t have predicted her own death, which was the catalyst to Gabi’s world falling apart, so what had she been referring to?

  Gabi’s perfect world . . . Her relationship with the Calhouns? The wedding? Landry?

  I have plenty of ammunition and a plan to use it to get Warren to see things my way. Love is worth fighting for, Carly, even if I have to fight dirty.

  Love—but not for Warren.

  Warren’s a puppet master, Carly, and he’s pulling a whole host of strings.

  My mind spun round and round until it stopped on something Gabi had mentioned the first time I met her.

  He’s only marrying me because his daddy is forcing him to. Some sort of political ploy, an agreement they made years ago.

 

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