“Why didn’t the tarot ever send me someone like him when I was a girl?” Marigold says. “Now this is a love interest.”

I want to dive under the house with the Wicked Witch of the East legs. “Okay, yes. We’re friends. Just friends,” I say quickly. “Like, we barely know each other.”

Mason raises one eyebrow at me, and I feel my face flush. Why can’t I stop talking?

“Well, that won’t last long,” Violet says.

“Now, come inside, I’ve made you a meal,” Poppy says.

The aunts are basically crowd-surfing him into the house. Mason twists back to look at me, his face slightly panicked, a fact I would find funny if it wasn’t so horrifying.

“Those lips! That hair!” Marigold is shrieking. “You’re like an Old Hollywood movie star!”

I watch helplessly as they drag him through the living room and into the dining room. All I can do is follow.

Inside, the table has been set for two. Mason is clearly trying to take in the whole scenario, but when he sees what is on the plates he freezes. “You’re eating fried chicken and waffles?”

“I’m serving fried chicken and waffles,” Poppy beams. “It’s a new recipe for me, but I just had to make them. And bacon too. Willow, sit!”

Obediently, I take my seat as Poppy whips out her matchbook and lights the candles in the center of the table. Mason hasn’t moved. He’s still staring at the table with wide eyes.

Then it hits me. These waffles mean something to him, the same way my meal had meant something to me. “Mason, are you okay?”

“I…” He takes a deep breath. “My mom worked at this diner in Vermont that served breakfast all day.” He looks up to meet my eye. “After she quit, we spent a whole summer trying to duplicate their chicken and waffles. They were always a disaster, but…” It may be the candlelight, but Mason’s eyes suddenly look very shiny. I feel a tiny tug on my heart. Mason is guarded, but not nearly as guarded as he thinks he is.

“Really? What a coincidence,” Poppy says. “Now eat, dear. Eat.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs. Mason slides into his seat, grabs his fork, and attacks the waffles. It would be disgusting if it weren’t kind of endearing. For a moment we all watch him. It’s a bit like a nature documentary of a snake eating something whole. It’s completely possible he’s going to swallow the actual plate. I’m not totally sure where I stand on witchcraft, but Poppy is clearly a kitchen witch.

“Now, I’m assuming our little Willow tree has caught you up to speed,” Violet says. “About the Bell family curse?”

“She did,” Mason says. “And the letters. I helped her find the first one. I’ll help with the others too.”