Sympathetic Magic (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 4) Read Online Free
Author: Christine Pope
chubby brown teapot from the trivet that sat in the middle of the table.
“Thank you,” Margot replied. She knew it was pointless to ask her mother what she wanted, or what she was doing there. In time she’d get around to it, but on her own terms.
“I see our prima is back in town,” Sylvia remarked. “Not staying, though, I would imagine.”
“Not for long.” After blowing on her tea, feeling her mother’s sharp blue gaze on her, Margot added, “She has to see the doctor soon.”
“And I imagine she’d rather be someplace cooler. What were those two thinking, going all the way down to Bisbee in September? It must have been a hundred degrees.”
“They wanted to see the vineyards, talk to the growers.” Yes, there were vines planted all over the Verde Valley, but the growers still got a good portion of their grapes from the wine-growing regions down south, especially around Willcox. Margot tried not to think of the irony of that one small town being given that name. Two “L”s, to be sure, but still….
“Hmm,” her mother said, which could have meant anything. Really, why was she here? It wasn’t out of character for her to drop by unexpectedly, but in general she only did that when they hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks. Since not even a week had passed since the wedding, and Margot had shared a table with her mother then, she couldn’t quite figure out why the urgent need to be here now, of all days.
“And what have you been up to?” Sylvia asked then.
Something seemed to click in Margot’s head. She set down her teacup, shot her mother a narrow look, and replied, “Nothing at all. Tending my garden. Reading. Renewing the illusion across Boyd Willis’s driveway again so another drunk tourist won’t back into his garage.”
That driveway had proved to be a magnet to intoxicated or merely befuddled travelers over the years…until Margot came up with the idea to cast a long-lasting illusion of a sturdy stone wall across the entrance to his property. Even someone who’d spent a hard afternoon drinking at the Spirit Room tended to look twice before backing into that. But the spell wouldn’t hold indefinitely, so she maintained a schedule of refreshing it every two weeks. The only drawback was that Boyd had to wait until the street was absolutely empty of civilians before he came and went, as otherwise they would see him backing his ancient F-150 right through a wall, but that seemed a small price to pay compared to having to replace the garage door once a year.
“That’s all?” her mother asked.
Irritated, Margot snapped, “What else would I be doing?”
Without blinking, Sylvia reached out and poured some more tea into her cup. The sweet-smelling tendrils of steam curled upward, and she inhaled deeply, then said, “Well, I’d hoped you might be getting out and about more.”
“And where precisely am I supposed to be getting out and about? I’m an elder here — I can’t just go running around on a whim.”
Her mother looped a finger into the handle of her teacup but didn’t lift it, seeming content to merely let it rest there on the tabletop. “I think you could go many places, if you’d only allow yourself.”
“And what precisely is that supposed to mean?” Her mother loved to talk that way, in elliptical sentences that made her sound like the clan seer. In reality, her gift was for growing things — the glory of the garden outside was her work originally, although Margot privately thought she did just fine on her own without any magical help.
“My dear, the borders are open! We can go almost anywhere we like now. Haven’t you ever wanted to see Flagstaff?”
“No,” Margot said shortly. That was a lie, as she’d often wondered when she was younger what it would be like to walk amongst those ponderosa forests, to breathe in cool air scented with pine. Those lands had been off limits for so many years that she’d stopped thinking about them somewhere
“Thank you,” Margot replied. She knew it was pointless to ask her mother what she wanted, or what she was doing there. In time she’d get around to it, but on her own terms.
“I see our prima is back in town,” Sylvia remarked. “Not staying, though, I would imagine.”
“Not for long.” After blowing on her tea, feeling her mother’s sharp blue gaze on her, Margot added, “She has to see the doctor soon.”
“And I imagine she’d rather be someplace cooler. What were those two thinking, going all the way down to Bisbee in September? It must have been a hundred degrees.”
“They wanted to see the vineyards, talk to the growers.” Yes, there were vines planted all over the Verde Valley, but the growers still got a good portion of their grapes from the wine-growing regions down south, especially around Willcox. Margot tried not to think of the irony of that one small town being given that name. Two “L”s, to be sure, but still….
“Hmm,” her mother said, which could have meant anything. Really, why was she here? It wasn’t out of character for her to drop by unexpectedly, but in general she only did that when they hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks. Since not even a week had passed since the wedding, and Margot had shared a table with her mother then, she couldn’t quite figure out why the urgent need to be here now, of all days.
“And what have you been up to?” Sylvia asked then.
Something seemed to click in Margot’s head. She set down her teacup, shot her mother a narrow look, and replied, “Nothing at all. Tending my garden. Reading. Renewing the illusion across Boyd Willis’s driveway again so another drunk tourist won’t back into his garage.”
That driveway had proved to be a magnet to intoxicated or merely befuddled travelers over the years…until Margot came up with the idea to cast a long-lasting illusion of a sturdy stone wall across the entrance to his property. Even someone who’d spent a hard afternoon drinking at the Spirit Room tended to look twice before backing into that. But the spell wouldn’t hold indefinitely, so she maintained a schedule of refreshing it every two weeks. The only drawback was that Boyd had to wait until the street was absolutely empty of civilians before he came and went, as otherwise they would see him backing his ancient F-150 right through a wall, but that seemed a small price to pay compared to having to replace the garage door once a year.
“That’s all?” her mother asked.
Irritated, Margot snapped, “What else would I be doing?”
Without blinking, Sylvia reached out and poured some more tea into her cup. The sweet-smelling tendrils of steam curled upward, and she inhaled deeply, then said, “Well, I’d hoped you might be getting out and about more.”
“And where precisely am I supposed to be getting out and about? I’m an elder here — I can’t just go running around on a whim.”
Her mother looped a finger into the handle of her teacup but didn’t lift it, seeming content to merely let it rest there on the tabletop. “I think you could go many places, if you’d only allow yourself.”
“And what precisely is that supposed to mean?” Her mother loved to talk that way, in elliptical sentences that made her sound like the clan seer. In reality, her gift was for growing things — the glory of the garden outside was her work originally, although Margot privately thought she did just fine on her own without any magical help.
“My dear, the borders are open! We can go almost anywhere we like now. Haven’t you ever wanted to see Flagstaff?”
“No,” Margot said shortly. That was a lie, as she’d often wondered when she was younger what it would be like to walk amongst those ponderosa forests, to breathe in cool air scented with pine. Those lands had been off limits for so many years that she’d stopped thinking about them somewhere
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