Free Bewitched, Bothered, and Biscotti: A Magical Bakery Mystery by Bailey Cates Page B

Or question.
    Which had probably saved my life. That telltale shiver ran down my spine, and then
     made the return trip back up to the base of my skull. No one had been anywhere close
     to me, but someone—something?—had warned me to get out of the way. It had beena familiar voice, too. But not one I’d heard since my grandmother had died when I
     was nine years old.
    “Oh, my Lord, I cannot believe that happened.” The woman from the balcony came boiling
     out of the front door of the apartment house. Her hair, not as dark as I’d thought,
     dripped with water. Tall and thin to the point of being gaunt, she tightened the belt
     of her bathrobe and shuffled her feet. I looked down and saw that she was wearing
     a pair of unlaced yellow tennis shoes.
    “I was just turning one of those dang punkins around to see which side my little boy
     might want to paint, and it tipped right over the balustrade,” she continued in a
     harried, breathy voice. “Right out of my hands. I’m so, so sorry. I tried real careful
     to keep those dang things away from the edge there. So’s nobody’d get hurt, you know?”
    Her expression pled with me. I nodded my understanding. In the minivan a child began
     to cry, and the woman who’d managed to not run me down said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve
     got to go. You really are okay?”
    “Uh-huh. Just a little shaken up, but no harm done.”
    Both women breathed sighs of relief, and the first one got into her van and drove
     away. I heard her soothing murmurs through the open window as the van passed.
    “How many pumpkins were up there?” I asked the robed woman in front of me.
    “Eight. They were for my little boy’s Scout troop. We’re having a punkin-painting
     party tomorrow. Or we were. I’ll have to get some more, I guess. Keep them in the
     car this time.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the damage. “Guess I have
     a bit of cleanup todo here, too. Who knew a few little squashes could make such a mess?” Shaking her
     head, she brought her gaze up to meet mine.
    “How many of them fell?” I asked.
    She paused and looked away. “All of them.”
    The amount of orange muck sprayed for yards around us confirmed her statement. It
     still didn’t make sense, though. I chose my words carefully. “I can see how one might
     tip off the balustrade like that, but all of them?”
    She licked her lips and met my eyes again. “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”
    Goose bumps played along my vertebrae. “Try me.”
    “The first one? The one I was holding? I swear, it felt like something grabbed it
     right out of my hands. And the ones after that, well, they went down like dominoes,
     one after another. But, honey? They weren’t even
touching
each other. That edge is eighteen inches wide, too. I just can’t figure it.”
    We blinked at each other for a long moment.
    “Were you the one who screamed?”
    She nodded. “’Bout scared the life right out of me, seeing you down here. You got
     some quick reflexes, girl.”
    I tried a smile, but the adrenaline whipping through my veins made my lips quiver,
     so I stopped.
    She tugged on the purple belt again, peering at me. “You’re not gonna sue me, are
     you?”
    I shook my head. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. I was pretty sure that whatever
     had happened hadn’t been this woman’s fault. “Listen, I have to go now,” I said, surveying
     the mess in a mild state of shock.
    “Okay, honey.” She patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Seriously, I’m real sorry.
     And I’m awful glad you’re okay.”
    “Me, too,” I muttered.
    As I ran home my dragonfly amulet bounced under my T-shirt, near my racing heart.

Chapter 9
    I rounded the corner to find a baby blue 1964 Thunderbird convertible parked in the
     driveway behind my Volkswagen. The top was down, and Lucy and Mimsey got out as soon
     as they saw me approach.
    “Where have you been?” Lucy demanded.
    “On a run. Why?”
    “You