The Accidental Witch Read Online Free

armchairs with tulle print on either side of it. Everything was Eastlake style except the baby grand piano in the corner. I smiled. The parlor was done. Three rooms were done. I set my purse down on the sofa and collapsed into one of the armchairs.
    “If you don’t mind me askin’,” Lawson said. “Don’t you care about all those stories? Most ladies would be afraid of stories like that and you’re out here all by yourself.”
    “There isn’t anything that died in this house that is scarier than my ex-husband,” I said.
    Lawson laughed and climbed down from the ladder. He stood in the middle of the foyer and studied it. He was doing a good job and I could tell by the look on his face that he was proud of his work.
    “We didn’t get to the upstairs today,” he said.
    “That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of flashlights and that portable AC unit has a really long extension cord,” I said.
    I had six portable air conditioners throughout the house. The southern heat was unbearable in the summer. I could live without running water and electricity, but I would have killed myself without the air conditioner. When I first moved in, there’d been no electricity, so I’d bought a generator and the air conditioners and just camped out.
    “You got a package today,” Lawson said as he handed me a small box.
    “Thanks,” I said as I took it.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. Michaels.”
    I gave Lawson a hint of a smile and he grabbed his ladder and walked back to his truck. I sighed deeply and looked at the box in my hands. It was small and wrapped in brown paper and twine. I didn’t know people still wrapped packages like that. There was no return address. I couldn’t imagine anyone who would send me a package. My father had died last year. My step-mother hated me, and my half-sisters and brothers were just too lazy to go to a post office. They wouldn’t even call, or text me, let alone send me anything. My real mom had run out on my dad and me when I was a baby. Everyone else in the family was dead. All my friends in Chicago had sided with my husband in the divorce, so I’d been left alone. Diane was my only friend. I couldn’t imagine who would send me anything.
    I carefully pulled the twine and the brown paper fell off. Beneath the paper was a large, leather bound book. It looked like an old journal or recipe book. It was tied together with a red ribbon and the ribbon held numerous pieces of paper. I ran my hands over the smooth leather and read the title of the book. It simply said Spells .
    I laughed and pulled the red ribbon that held the book together. The book fell open. Inside, it was like a recipe book a mother would pass on to a daughter. There were old typed pages with handwritten notes in the margins. There were pages added with handwritten spells on them and drawings.
    “What the hell?” I said as I leafed through the old book. There were potions and summoning spells and candle spells. In-between pages, there were pressed flowers and herbs and some of the pages were stained with old candle wax.
    I set the book down and went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. At least the kitchen was done. It looked like any other modern kitchen. It had granite counter tops and marble floors. I’d spared no expense making it look like something that belonged in an old southern mansion. I wanted the house to be perfect and I had Johnny Boy’s money to help me achieve that dream. The lights flickered when I entered. I would have to talk to Lawson about that in the morning. I took a beer out of the fridge and opened it. I had a sip and grabbed a roll of cookie dough. Armed with the cookie dough and beer, I returned to the book. It had fallen off the counter, to the floor, and was opened to a page. I laughed again. The page it had opened to was love spells. That was just what I needed.
    I sat down and ate and drank and leafed through the book. I stopped at a page with an interesting picture on it. The spell was an