Mr. Raes off competing in some pumpkin-carving contest until next Saturday, leaving Mrs. Rae home alone for their anniversary week. Cecilia said her mom dropped off four dozen éclairs this morning with notice that shed be making pies, too.
One of the joys and irritations about living in a small town was knowing everyone, and everyone knowing your business. In this case, both women knew Mrs. Raes irritation meant cherry pie by dinner.
Cecilia seemed surprised when I mentioned I was coming here, Kathy said, not meeting Pandoras eyes as she took back the bag and selected an éclair. She said she thought Moonspun Dreams was doing so bad, your mom had given up keeping it open on weekends. I know I should have given her a smackdown, but the éclairs smelled too good.
While Kathy dived into her éclair with an enthusiastic moan, Pandora sighed, looking around the store. When shed been little, her grandmother had stood behind this counter. The store had been filled with herbs and tinctures, all handmade by Grammy Leda. Shed sold clothes woven by locals with wool from their own sheep, shed taught classes on composting and lunar gardening, led womens circles and poured her own candles. Grammy had been, Pandora admitted, a total hippie.
Then, when Pandora had been thirteen, Granny Leda had retired to a little cabin up in Humboldt County to raise chin-chillas. And itd been Cassiopeias turn.
Her mothers intuitive talents, the surge of interest in all things New Age, and her savvy use of the internet had turned a quirky small-town store into a major player in the New Age market. Moonspun Dreams had thrived.
But now that the economy had tanked and New Age had lost its luster, it was almost imploding. Leaving Pandora with the choice of trying to save it. Or letting it fade into oblivion.
Cecilia was right. Things are really bad, Pandora said. No point in risking the best éclairs in the Santa Cruz Mountains over the truth.
And now Moonspun Dreams is yours. Are you going to give up? Kathy asked quietly, holding out a fingerful of the rich cream for the cat. They both watched Bonnie take a delicate taste while Pandora mulled over the slim choices available.
Her mother had said that shed run out of ideas. Shed told Pandora before she left to be the keynote speaker at the annual Scenic Psychics conference that the store was hers now. And it was up to her to decide what to do with it.
After sixty years in the family, close up shop and sell the property.
Or fight to keep it going.
Her stomach pitched, but of the two, she knew there was only one she could live with.
I cant give up. This is all I have, Kath. Not just my heritage, given that Moonspun Dreams has been in the family for four generations. But its all Ive got now.
What are you going to do? And what can I do to help? Both questions were typical of Kathy. And both warmed Pandora to the soul, shoving the fears and stress of trying to save a failing business back a bit.
I dont know. Ive been racking my brain, trying to figure something out. Her smile quirked as she gestured to the small table in the corner. Rich rosewood inset with stars and moons, part of the table was covered by a brocade cloth and a handful of vividly painted cards. Ive finally reached the point of desperation.
Kathys eyes widened. Pandora had sworn off all things metaphysical back in high school, claiming that she didnt have the talent or skill. The reality was that Cassiopeia was so good at it, nothing Pandora did could measure up. And shed hated knowing shed never, ever be good enough.
Whatd the reading say?
Tarot really isnt my forte, she excused, filling her mouth with the sweet decadence of her éclair.
Quit stalling. Even if you dont have that psychic edge like your mom, you still know how to read.
That psychic edge. The family gift. Her heritage.
Her failure.
The cards werent any help, she dismissed. The Lovers, Three of Swords, the Tower, Four of Wands and the Seven of Swords.
The éclair halfway to her lips, Kathy scrunched her nose and shrugged. I dont understand any of that.
I dont, either. Pandoras shoulders drooped. I mean, I know what each card means-I was memorizing tarot definitions before I was conjugating verbs. But I dont have a clue how it applies to Moonspun Dreams. It doesnt help me figure out how to save the business.
Yet more proof that she was a failure when it came to the family gift. Handed down from mother to daughter, that little something extra manifested differently in each generation. Leda, Pandoras grandmother, had prophetic dreams. Cassiopeias gift was psychic intuition.
And Pandoras? Somewhere around her seventeenth birth day, her mother had decided Pandoras gift was reading people. Sensing their energy, for good or bad. In other words, shed glommed desperately onto her daughters skill at reading body language and tried to convince everyone that it was some sort of gift.
Despite popular belief, it hadnt been her mothers overdramatic lifestyle that had sent Pandora scurrying out of Black Oak as soon as she was legally able. Itd been her disappointment that she was just an average person with no special talent. All shed wanted was to get away. To build a nice normal life for herself. One where she wasnt always judged, always found lacking.
Then shed had to scurry right back when that nice normal life idea had blown up in her face.
Youre going to figure it out, Kathy said, her words ringing with loyal assurance. Your mom wouldnt have trusted you with the store if she didnt have faith, too.
The store is failing. Well be closing the doors by the end of the year. I dont think its as much a matter of trusting me as it is figuring I cant make things any worse.
Pandora eyed the last three cream-filled pastries, debating calories versus comfort.
Comfort, and the lure of sugary goodness, won.
These are so good, she murmured as she bit into the chocolate-drenched creamy goodness.
They are. Too bad Mrs. Rae only bakes when shes pissed at her husband. Black Oak has a severe sugar shortage now that shes retired. Kathy gave her a long, considering look. You worked in a bakery for the last few years, right? Maybe you can take over the task of keeping Black Oak supplied with sweet treats. You know, open a bakery or something.
Wouldnt that be fun, Pandora said with a laugh. Then, because she was starting to feel a little sick after all that sugary goodness, she set the barely eaten éclair on a napkin and slid to her feet. But I cant. I have to try to make things work. Try to save Moonspun Dreams. Mom was hoping, since Id managed the bakery the last two years, that maybe Id see some idea, have some brilliant business input, that might help.
And you have nothing at all? No ideas?
Failure weighing down her shoulders, Pandora looked away so Kathy didnt see the tears burning in her eyes. Her gaze fell on the dusty box shed hauled in earlier.
Weve got a leak in the storeroom, she said, not caring that the subject change was so blatant as to be pathetic. Most of the stuff stored in that back corner was in plastic bins, so its probably seasonal decorations or something. But this box was there, too. Its my great-grandmas writing, and from the dust coating the box, its been there since she moved away.
Oh, like a treasure chest, Kathy said, stuffing the éclairs back in the bag and clearing a spot on the counter. Lets see whats in it.
Pandora set the box on the counter and dug her fingernail under one corner of the packing tape. Pulling it loose, she and Kathy both winced at the dust kicking them in the face.
She lifted the flaps. Kathy gave a disappointed murmur even as Pandora herself grinned, barely resisting clapping her dirty hands together.
Its just books, Kathy said, poking her finger at one.
My great-grandma Danaes books, Pandora corrected, pulling out one of the fragile-looking journals. She reverently opened the pages of the velvet-covered book, the handmade paper thick and soft beneath her fingers. This is better than a treasure chest.
Oh, sure. Piles of gold coins, glistening jewels and priceless gems is exactly the same thing as a box of moldy old books. Still, Kathy reached in and pulled a leather-bound journal out for herself, flipping through the fragile pages. Quickly at first, then slower, as the words caught her attention.
These are spells. Like, magic, she exclaimed, her voice squeaking with excitement. Oh, man, this is so cool.
A little giddy herself, Pandora looked over at the book Kathy was flipping through. Grammy Danae collected them. I remember when I was little, before she died, people used to call her a wisewoman. Grammy Leda said that meant she was a witch. Mom said she was just a very special lady.
Do you think she really was a witch? Kathy asked, glee and skepticism both shining in her eyes.
Im more inclined to believe she was one of the old wives all those tales were made from. Pandora laughed. Despite the rumors, theres nothing weird or freaky about my family.
She wanted-desperately needed-to believe that.
But wouldnt it be cool if these spells worked? Say, the love ones. You could sell them, save the store.
Its not the recipe that makes a great cook, its the power, Pandora recited automatically. At her friends baffled look, she shrugged. Thats what Grammy always said. That words, spells, a bunch of informationthat wasnt what made things happen. Just like the tarot cards dont tell the future, crystals dont do the healing. Its the intuition, the power, that make things happen.
Ill bet people would still pay money for a handful of spells, Kathy muttered.
Theyd pay money for colored water and talcum powder, too. Pandora shrugged. That doesnt make it right.
Maybe you can offer matchmaking or something, Kathy said, studying the beautifully detailed book. People would flock to the store for that kind of thing.
For one brief second, the idea of people believing in her enough to flock anywhere filled Pandora with a warm glow. She wanted so badly to offer what the other women in her family had. Comfort, advice, guidance. And a little magic.
Then her shoulders drooped. Because she had no magic to share. Even the one little thing her mother had tried to claim for her had been a failure.
Id let people down, she said with a shake of her head. Hell, when it comes to love stuff, I even let myself down.