Kitchen Witch

11 | Awkward Encounters

Charlotte sat in her living room window seat, overlooking the back garden and dunes, legs tucked under her, staring into her tea cup. The warmth from the tea and its heavy dose of ashwagandha was slowly beginning to calm her thoughts. Surprisingly, she had slept hard the night before, as if a weight had been lifted from her, or perhaps her body just needed to recover after the shock of everything that had come flooding back. Last night's peaceful rest was a sharp contrast to this morning's racing thoughts. 

She had magic.  While the tragedy shook her to her core, she wasn't entirely surprised by the magical connection. There had been so many hints over the years, that familiar warm breeze on her cheek that always seemed to show up when she needed it. The way the wind seemed to guide her and point her in the right direction. How confined and smothered she had felt closed up in their home in Stonebridge. 

Then there was the big elephant in the room laughing at her, the teas and compounds she made that had an uncanny ability to heal or help her friends. How could she have not known?

Charlotte blew a frustrated breath out, and her tea began to swirl in a whirlpool. A smile crept up toward her eyes as she took a long, slow breath in and back out again, watching the little whirlpool extend out of the cup as if reaching out toward her. 

Charlotte let out a yelp and dropped the cup, the whirlpool dissolving and the tea spilling out over the floorboards. Luckily, the teacup hadn't broken. Charlie started barking at the front door.

"What on earth, Charlie?" Rising from her seat, she walked over to peek out the front door window. 

A big red-headed man with a beard was getting out of his truck. "Oh no, not now." 

Charlotte pulled frantically at her nightgown, trying to make her dishevelled appearance look somewhat better, all while praying that her newly purchased white nightdress wasn't see-through. Why did she have to buy an old-fashioned Anne night dress? What kind of tourist was she going to look like now? Charlotte had forgotten entirely that Sarah had lined up someone to check on her clogged pipe in the apothecary. 

"Damn it," she blew a stray curl from her face and opened the door.

"Sorry for my appearance. I completely forgot you were coming by today. Please come in." Charlotte waved him in while shooing Charlie away. "Don't mind him; he's super friendly." 

Charlie wasn't shooing and already had his paws on the big man's big buffalo checkered chest.

Recognizing her and the giant golden retriever instantly, he grumbled, "I think we met yesterday."

"We did?" She mentally scoured the day before but was coming up blank, although there was something familiar about him. "I'm so sorry. Yesterday was not my best," she confessed.

He took in her wild curly hair and the rather strange old-fashioned nightgown he was sure his Nana also owned. Mind you, his Nana didn't have curves like that. Yes, even a nightgown couldn't hide them. He coughed to cover the blush creeping up his cheeks, noticing the tea spilled on the floor and the fallen tea cup. This lady seemed to have her hands full.

"It's understandable. Let's start over. I'm Riley, Riley Keane." He extended his hand.

"Charlotte," she said as she took his hand and shook it, mentally berating herself for shaking it like she was completing a business deal—a business deal in her nightgown. 

Remembering the spilled tea, she ushered him in, explained the mishap, and asked him to follow her to the problem sink so she could grab a towel. "Never mind your boots; it's this way."

Riley followed her in, growing annoyed, unsure why she seemed pleasant enough. But the entire encounter so far just seemed awkward. The woman was a hot mess. Maybe that was typical of people from away, mowing strangers down without apologizing or entirely oblivious to their presence. It didn't matter, he was here to fix a problem, and that was it. He appreciated Sarah passing his name on for odd jobs in the off-season to help pay the bills, but he would make sure to make his irritation on this one known. 

His irritation was quickly forgotten when he entered the backroom beyond the kitchen. What would have been a mudroom in a typical house—what was this? Jars upon jars lined up on shelves filled with all manner of dried things. Seaweed and plants hung from the ceiling to dry and were scattered throughout the room. The air held a briny smell that reminded him of his boat. 

"Wow, this place looks like something straight out of an old movie– like a witch's kitchen." His eyes scanned the room half-jokingly, looking for a cauldron; she was wearing an old-fashioned night dress and was semi-relieved to find a normal-looking hot plate and crockpot on the island.

Charlotte let out a nervous laugh. "Oh no, I'm just a hobbyist apothecary. I make special tea blends and compounds, like salves for eczema. Just think of me as a step up from a gardener and a Mary Kay rep." She twisted her sleeve nervously. Could this be any more embarrassing? She sounded like a complete nut job. She headed over to the sink, quickly explained the problem, and left the room as fast as possible to clean up the spilled tea.

Charlotte could hear faint knocking downstairs as he worked. She had practically raced upstairs to change. Standing in front of her closet, she groaned at the selection of oversized sweatshirts and threadbare leggings. She needed to do some online shopping. She grabbed a favourite green sweater dress that brought out the newly red colouring in her hair. I am still curious as to why it had changed. Could it be the well water? She pulled it on over a pair of tights and added a belt to emphasize her curves. She was enjoying having some curves to her body now and smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she placed her favourite necklace and earrings on. They were both made of silver feathers. She had found them in a thrift shop while looking for tea cups years ago. She had kept them hidden in her closet, only pulling them out to wear when he was away. 

At the thought of him, she frowned back at herself. What was she doing? There was a strange man downstairs fixing her plumbing, and she was up here acting like a schoolgirl fretting over her outfit. She plopped down onto the huge fluffy duvet and stared up at the ceiling. He was good-looking in a sort of gruff way. The red hair and beard were striking. He was huge, in that built kind of way, likely from physical work. She thought Sarah had said something about him being a fisherman and this being his off-season work. He was so standoffish, though, and almost rude the more she thought about it. But the freckles just seemed to make him more amiable. She sighed at the same time as the wind whistled outside her window, as though in agreement and headed back downstairs.