Gran took the box of moonstone buttons that she’d carefully snipped off her dress and showed them to him. He picked one up and inspected it. “Very fine work. I didn’t do it, did I?”
“I don’t think so.” She explained that she wanted him to make four more. He looked at each button in turn and finally said, “I can’t promise that my work will be as fine as this. It’s exquisite. But I’ll do my best. End of next week all right?”
We agreed that it was, and having executed our most important commission, we left the shop.
“Now shall we hit the market?” Clara asked.
“What a good idea,” I agreed.
The market was colorful and noisy. Sylvia turned to me. “Lucy, wouldn’t it be an excellent idea for you to start coming to these things? You could sell some of your knitting kits and maybe promote the classes. We could stock your stall with handcrafted sweaters, cushions, scarves and so on. It wouldn’t be too far to come and could add extra income.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “If I wasn’t kind of busy right now. Getting married and all.”
She grew quite fierce. “You must not allow your marriage to interfere with your business.” She gave a little laugh. “I never did.”
We took a moment to watch the hustle and bustle. I doubted whether this market had changed so very much since Saxon times. Sure, the people would be dressed differently, and the products would be mostly different, but at its heart, this was a place for people to trade goods. And I was definitely willing to take some goods off sellers’ hands.
I bought some beautiful beeswax candles at one stand. Most of my candles tended to be for my craft, but these I pictured on the dining-room table at Rafe’s house. I looked at pottery plates and hand-carved wooden bowls, and then I came to a table laid out with skincare products in beautiful dark blue glass jars and bottles. The table was decorated with crystals, no doubt from the crystal house we’d just left, and as they winked in the sunshine, I was drawn towards that table as though they had reached out little hands and pulled me there.
I wasn’t the only one, either. It was quite a busy area. I glanced up to see who was running it and saw an astonishingly beautiful woman. In a village market full of everyday-looking people (if you ignored the vampires), she was like a storybook princess. She had black, curly hair that hung to her waist, big, dark eyes, flawless skin, and full lips painted red. She wore a lacy blue top over jeans and what looked like diamond and lapis earrings hung from her ears. She was wrapping up a jar of cream and saying to the older woman who was buying it, “Every night, remember. And I promise you, at the end of three months, you will see a difference.”
The customer gazed up and said, “Will I have skin like yours?”
The woman laughed. “You never know.”
She had a helper with her, a dowdy woman, much older, and as that woman helped the next customer, the dark-haired beauty turned to me. As our gazes connected, I felt a zing of recognition. It was odd. I’d never met this woman in my life. Her eyes narrowed slightly as though she’d felt it too.
“May I help you, little sister?”
So that was it. She was another witch. “I was just passing by. Your packaging is so beautiful.”
She laughed softly, a husky sound. Even her teeth were perfect. “It’s not the outside but what’s inside that counts.”
She reached out and picked up my hand, bringing it closer, and then from a pump bottle squeezed a little lotion onto my wrist. She rubbed it in, and I felt the delicious smoothness of the cream, breathed in a slight aroma that smelled like a garden in spring. No one scent stood out, but they mingled pleasantly.
“What is in this stuff?” I asked, amazed.
“My secret recipe.”
There were night creams, day creams, cleansers, and lip balms. She had sample packs containing a small bottle of each and a small zip-up bag to contain them all. As she saw me looking at them, the witch said, “Those make excellent bridesmaid gifts.”
Even though we were both witches, I couldn’t believe she could read my mind so perfectly. “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”
She chuckled. “Your engagement ring sparkles with newness, and there’s no wedding band. Educated guess.”
“Well, you’re correct. I’m a bride-to-be.” Maybe that sounded corny, but I didn’t care. I even liked using the word fiancé. No doubt some day in the future I’d refer to Rafe as my hubby. The thought of his face if I said it made me want to practice straightaway.
The other witch said, “If you give me the names of your attendants, I’ll have the bags personalized. We make them to order. I can have them ready for you by next week. Is that soon enough?”
“That’s fantastic. Thank you.” I gave her Alice, Violet, and Jennifer’s names. Then added Olivia as a thanks to Olivia Thresher, as she was doing the flowers.
And, since I was as vain as the next woman, I decided to buy some cream for myself as well.
“You don’t live near here,” she said with certainty.
I shook my head. “I’m from Oxford.”
Her gaze sharpened on mine. “You know Margaret Twigg, then.”
And if there was ever a connection that wasn’t going to make me warm to this woman, it was knowing Margaret Twigg. Still, the leader of my coven was certainly well-known in witching circles, so I couldn’t hold that against this woman.
“I do.”
She laughed again, that husky laugh. “I can tell from your tone that Margaret isn’t your favorite among our sisters.”
Now I felt mean. “It’s not that, it’s just—”
She patted my wrist. “No need to explain. And what is your name?”
“I’m Lucy Swift.”
“Ah. I have heard
