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Back Garden Spells Save as PDF
Chapters (24)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLE PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  5. PART ONE HINDSIGHT
  6. CHAPTER 1
  7. CHAPTER 2
  8. CHAPTER 3
  9. CHAPTER 4
  10. CHAPTER 5
  11. CHAPTER 6
  12. PART TWO INSIGHT
  13. CHAPTER 7
  14. CHAPTER 8
  15. CHAPTER 9
  16. CHAPTER 10
  17. CHAPTER 11
  18. CHAPTER 12
  19. CHAPTER 13
  20. PART THREE FORESIGHT
  21. CHAPTER 14
  22. FROM THE WAVERLEY KITCHEN JOURNAL
  23. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  24. COPYRIGHT

She flipped the switch, went to the filing cabinets, and opened the drawer marked G. In the drawer she found gloves, a geode, and grass seeds neatly categorized under their proper headings. Under the heading Gadget, there was a reference note Fred had put there that said, See also Tools. It was trouble he needn’t have gone to. If she needed a tool, she went right to the tool. But Fred still hadn’t gotten his mind around how exactly it worked. Well, hell, neither had she.

Under Gadget, she found what she needed. It was a gizmo still in its store packaging, a kitchen instrument called a mango splitter, purportedly making cutting around the seed of a mango easier.

She wondered how he was going to take this. He had initially moved in because he’d hoped she would give him something that would help him with James. Was he disappointed in her for not producing that hallowed thing? Now, after all this time, she was going to give him something, and it had nothing to do with James. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he would take it as a sign that he was doing the right thing, moving on.

Or maybe he would think he just needed to eat more mangoes.

She heard the soft chirp of Fred’s cell phone upstairs. He had said he didn’t want to use her phone, in case she needed to call someone to tell them that she was coming over with something they needed, which made her feel good, like he thought of her as a superhero.

She knocked once on the door to the attic, then walked up the stairs. When she reached the top step, she saw Fred in his leather reading chair near the corner cupboard that housed his television. An antiques magazine was on the leather ottoman in front of him. The area still smelled like fresh paint.

“Right, right,” he was saying into the phone. He saw her and waved her in. “Do the best you can. Thanks for calling.” He hung up.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No. It was just business. A delayed order.” He put the phone down and stood. “What brings you up here? Are you all right? Can’t sleep? Do you want me to cook something for you?”

“No, I’m fine.” She held out the package. “I needed to give this to you.”

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER

12