October 24, Thursday

THE LATE afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen window as I cradled my phone between my ear and shoulder, trying to juggle a cup of tea and a plate of Kelly's leftover scones.

"Okay, spill," Frida's voice crackled through the line. "I leave you alone for five minutes and suddenly there's empty graves, mysterious ashes, and more drama than a telenovela. What gives?"

I sighed, sinking into a kitchen chair. "Where do I even start, Frida? It's been... intense."

"Well, don't leave me hanging! Give me all the juicy details."

I launched into a recap of the past few weeks – Rose's empty grave, the strange Wiccan ceremonies, Wayne's unexpected death and even stranger memorial. Frida gasped and interjected at all the right moments, her reactions a comforting reminder of normalcy in the midst of all this weirdness.

"And then," I concluded, "Wayne's ashes just... floated over to Rose's empty grave. Like they were drawn there by some unseen force. It was the creepiest thing I've ever seen."

"Holy crap," Frida breathed. "Jo, are you sure you're not actually living in one of your novels? Because this sounds like prime romance-mystery material."

I laughed, but it came out more like a strangled sob. "Trust me, if I was writing this, the plot would make a lot more sense. I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark, missing some crucial piece of information."

"Hmm," Frida mused. "Speaking of stumbling around in the dark, how are things with your hunky stonemason? Please tell me you've at least gotten some steamy graveyard makeout sessions out of all this."

I felt my cheeks flush, remembering the intensity of Sawyer's kiss in Rose's workshop. "Not exactly. Things have... cooled off. On his side, anyway."

"What? Why? Do I need to come down there and knock some sense into him?"

"It's complicated," I sighed. "He's got secrets, Frida. Big ones, I think. And he's not ready to share them."

"Men," Frida scoffed. "Always making things more difficult than they need to be. Well, his loss. You're a catch, Jo. Don't let him make you forget that."

I smiled, warmth spreading through my chest at my friend's unwavering support. "Thanks, Frida. I needed to hear that."

"Anytime, babe. Oh! Speaking of men who don't deserve you, guess who's back to his old tricks?"

My stomach dropped. "Curtis?"

"Bingo. He's back online, spewing his usual garbage. Claiming he's the 'real creative force' behind your books, that kind of thing."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Great. Just what I needed."

"You know," Frida said, her voice taking on a mischievous tone, "maybe you need to put another curse on him. I mean, the first one worked pretty well, right? Two 'accidents' in a row can't be a coincidence."

"I'm not sure I want to mess with that stuff again. It feels... dangerous."

"More dangerous than letting Curtis tank your career? Come on, Jo. Fight fire with fire – or in this case, fight douchebaggery with witchcraft."

I laughed despite myself. "I'll think about it. But for now, I think I need to focus on finishing my book."

"How close are you?"

"Not close enough."

"Maybe you need Mr. Hard as a Rock to inspire you?"

I sighed. "I don't think that's gonna happen."

"Girl, I was talking about my new vibrator. I'll send you one."

I laughed, giving in to Frida's good mood and happy chatter.