Free The Secret Ingredient of Wishes by Susan Bishop Crispell Page B

“I’m going to kill him.”
    Ashe was a few steps behind her, his shoulders pulled back so he looked even broader, taller than usual. “Hey, Rachel,” he said, smiling before it dropped off his face, his scowl deepening when he looked to the woman again.
    â€œHey,” Rachel said.
    â€œJordan, this is Rachel,” Everley said, placing a hand on Rachel’s arm. “She just got to town and is staying with Miss Sisson.”
    Jordan put her anger on hold long enough to give Rachel a smile and say, “Nice to meet you.”
    â€œYou too,” Rachel said.
    â€œI’m expanding into the space next door. Ashe designed what it will look like. And Jordan’s going to make it all look fabulous.” Everley gave them both pointed looks as if to say don’t screw it up .
    â€œIt would be easier if Ashe and his immovable walls weren’t getting in my way.” Jordan shoved him lightly and scrunched up her face in annoyance when he didn’t budge. She was almost as short as Rachel, her dark hair twisted into a sleek bun to match the classic lines of her outfit. Rachel itched to brush off the streak of white powder on Jordan’s skirt.
    â€œNo, things would be easier if someone quit trying to redesign the space every other day,” Ashe said. He shifted away from Everley when her hand twitched toward him as if she smacked him regularly.
    â€œI swear to God, if y’all don’t start getting along I’m going with Jamie’s fight-to-the-death idea,” Everley said. “Winner has to do whatever the hell I want over there.”
    â€œHow is that winning?” he asked.
    Without thinking, Rachel said, “Well, you get to live.” Ashe turned to her, his blue eyes narrowed as he tried to figure her out, and she smiled to let him know she was teasing. She wasn’t sure if her ease around him was due to the calming effect the shop—and its owner—seemed to have on her or if she just wanted to determine if they could be friends.
    Ashe dropped his head so a hunk of hair fell across his eyes. “Funny.” His jaw was tight, whether from annoyance or trying not to laugh, Rachel couldn’t tell.
    â€œOoh, I knew I liked you,” Everley said, pointing a finger at Rachel, who felt the sincerity of the words all the way to her toes.
    â€œGetting along with her is not as easy as you’d think,” Ashe said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go figure out how in the hell to make this whole thing work.” He scowled at the room at large, then shoved back through the plastic into the work zone.
    â€œSo no fight to the death?” Jordan asked.
    â€œMaybe next time,” Everley said, chuckling. Then she turned to Rachel and said, “So we’re all good, right? You’ll be back later this week to start work?”
    â€œSounds good.”
    And just like that, Rachel had a job. If only everything in her life could fall into place that easily.
    *   *   *
    Instead of going inside when she got back to Catch’s, she followed the path into the backyard, tempted by the sweet scent that carried to her from the grove of trees she had seen from her attic room. The trees were only a few feet taller than she was, but when Rachel wandered between them, letting the soft leaves slip through her fingers, the rest of the world faded away. She stopped just before the trees ended near Ashe’s yard. She wrinkled her nose and almost choked on the scent of rotting fruit that emanated from the last tree, its leaves half-dead and crackling in the breeze.
    Turning away from the trees, she found Catch watching her from the kitchen window, but from the distance Rachel couldn’t make out her expression. She headed toward the house, the scent of rotting fruit dissipating with each step. By the time she reached the back porch, she wondered if she’d even smelled it at all.
    Inside, the air