Free Scent of Magic by Lori L. Clark Page A

doctor."
    The three women walked outside, and Francesca locked The Perfumery's front door. They climbed into the station wagon and headed home.

MRS. BYRD GROWS A PAIR
     
    Sunday morning had become Starley's favorite time to rollerblade around Prosperity with Larry. Quite possibly, the Duchesne sisters were the only three people in town who didn't attend church. It's not that they were against worship or didn't believe in God. No that wasn't it at all. The main reason they never attended church in any of the communities they'd lived had been because they were never particularly welcomed inside a house of worship with open arms.
    Francesca and Juliette hadn't gotten out of bed yet. Since Sunday was the only day The Perfumery didn't open for business, they usually slept in later than usual. Starley had been too keyed up to sleep, so she threw back the covers and climbed from a toasty warm bed instead.
    Starley laced up her rollerblades and clipped Larry's leash to a belt loop on her jeans before slipping out the front door. The sun had just started to creep over the horizon. It was cool but not cold, and a thin sheen of frost covered the grass. Starley pulled the hood up on her jacket.
    "Mush, Larry!" Starley flicked Larry's leash, and the eager terrier bolted down the street at full speed. She giggled, and the breath left her lips in a wispy trail.
    Starley had mapped a five-mile route around town, two and a half miles out, two and a half miles back. The turnaround point was just past the church. She didn't let Larry do all the work, but she had to pump her feet to keep up with him. He had an endless supply of energy, and five miles would just take the edge off.
    As she approached the halfway mark, the Sunday morning churchgoers were just beginning to arrive in the parking lot. Pastor Byrd's black SUV sat near the side entrance. Starley was about to turn around and start her trek back home when she thought she heard yelling. Not wanting to pry, but too curious not to, Starley skated closer and used the cover of trees to peek around and find out who it was.
    "What did you say to me?" Pastor Byrd stared wide-eyed at his wife.
    Mrs. Byrd pulled the silly looking hat off of her head and threw it to the ground. "I said I am not wearing this stupid looking thing. It looks like a damn rat's nest."
    Pastor Byrd's eyes darted back and forth. "Do not take that tone with me, Donna. And please watch your language. This is sacred property."
    Mrs. Byrd snorted and jumped up and down on the hat, grinding it into the gravel. "Yes, and we're going to Sunday morning services, not a funeral. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that hat to a funeral." She huffed and stomped up the steps into the church.
    Starley laughed, and Pastor Byrd's head whipped in her direction. She ducked down, and he squinted to get a better look. "Who's there?" he called out.
    Starley's shoulders shook with silent laughter and tears rolled down her face. She bit her lip to keep from being heard. After a half a minute or so, Pastor Byrd bent to retrieve the remains of Mrs. Byrd's hat. He dusted it off and tossed it into the front seat of his car before turning to go into the church.
    As soon as he was out of earshot, Starley busted out laughing. She shook her head and tugged on Larry's leash. "Looks like Mrs. Byrd grew a pair, huh, Larry?"
    Every time Starley pictured the look on Pastor Byrd's face when Mrs. Byrd stomped on that hat, she started giggling uncontrollably and had to stop to catch her breath.
    By the time she made it back to the house, Francesca and Juliette were seated at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Starley slipped off her rollerblades and unhooked Larry's leash. She plopped down across from Francesca and reached for an orange from the bowl of fruit at the center of the table.
    As she peeled away the rind she started giggling.
    Francesca quirked an eyebrow. "What's tickling your funny bone this morning?"
    "Oh my God, you aren't going to believe what I