Free CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding by Yasmine Galenorn Page B

smart girl with children to feed, and I couldn’t pay her what she deserved. I was reluctantly awaiting the day when she handed me her resignation and had already informed her that if she needed time off for an interview, she should just ask.
    “It’s me, Cinnamon. How’s it going?”
    “Almost ready to open the doors. Lana’s going to be a little late, but since it’s Sunday, the rush won’t come until later. If you have the time, though, you need to sign off on a few checks. Several invoices came in yesterday.”
    Since Cinnamon had her accounting degree, I figured she might as well learn the back end of the business and had handed her some of the easier paperwork to deal with. “I’ll try to drop by this afternoon. This weekend’s been insane—”
    “I saw the paper,” she said, her voice tentative. “I wasn’t sure whether or not you wanted to talk about it, so I wasn’t going to bring it up until you did.”
    A chill ran up my back. Paper? What paper? “Bring what up? What are you talking about?” I asked, knowing full well I wasn’t going to want to hear the answer.
    She hesitated. I was known for throwing tantrums over the local media, with whom I had tenuous and stressful connections, but I never directed my anger toward the messengers unless they were directly involved.
    “Go on. I’m not going to bite you, you know.”
    “Okay. Ingrid ran a huge article in the Chiqetaw Town Crier about Roy being thrown out of the party the other night. She followed it up with an expose on Joe being shot and is linking the two stories by inference. Since the paper said Joe’s going to be all right, I decided to wait until you mentioned it.”
    “Holy hell. If something like this happens again, tell me right away. I haven’t been out to pick up the paper—it’s still in the yard. So, the shop’s fine?”
    “Yeah, everything’s okay here.” I could hear relief in her voice.
    “Okay, then. I’m going to go look at that article. I’ll drop by a little later today to sign the checks and glance over the invoices.”
    I dropped the receiver back in the cradle and made a dash out to the front yard. For once, the boy had gotten the newspaper near the porch. Joe was meticulous about keeping the lawn in order, and Kip had taken on a new diligence in his chores, wanting to impress his older buddy. A light film of dew still shimmered on the blades, but a glimpse of sunlight through the clouds promised to burn off the moisture before noon.
    I snatched up the paper and returned to the kitchen, where I slipped into my chair. Randa, almost done with her breakfast, glanced at the paper, then at me, and winced. My fact-oriented daughter had developed a strong distaste for the Chiqetaw Town Crier ’s cavalier attitude toward the difference between reality and speculation.
    “They have something on you in there?” she asked, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. She drained her milk and wiped her mouth. Kip had already polished off his ham and cheese and was digging through the pastry basket for a doughnut.
    I grimaced. “Yeah, so I gather. Don’t be surprised if I blow.” I shook open the paper and turned to the front page. A grainy picture of Joe and me taken during our party, filled the lower right quarter of the paper. Slow news week, so it seemed.
    Next to it was Ingrid’s article. EMERALD O’BRIEN WEAVES HER MAGICAL CHARM AGAIN, the headline read. Oh God, just shoot me now.
    Emerald O’Brien, Chiqetaw’s beloved sorceress and teashop owner, has once again made the front page, but this time not because of some ghostly visitor or murdering marauder come calling. No, Emerald’s been plying her charming self into the spotlight via the men in her life.
    Reports have it that a brawl broke out between Emerald’s ex-husband, Roy O’Brien, of Seattle, and her fiancé, Joseph Files, captain of Chiqetaw’s Medic Rescue Unit. Ms. O’Brien must have been brewing up quite a storm of love spells for the tempest