6. A Neighborhood Welcome

Chapter 6

A Neighborhood Welcome

A lice Primrose stepped with a stride of confidence; shoulders pulled back, her pert nose and emerald green eyes tilted toward the bright afternoon sky. An amethyst necklace jostled around with every springy step. She wore a brimmed, black wool hat where the top slightly curved backward into a point. Vibrant, wavy, purple hair emerged from underneath the brim and flowed below her shoulders. She had a sly smile, hiding a secret only she knew, with dark purple lipstick to match.

She wore all black—outside of a gray blouse—that contrasted with her pale complexion. A hooded modern take on the long-sleeved Victorian style tailcoat disguised Alice’s tall, slightly curvy frame. The coat’s pleated skirt, resting below her hips, swayed with every moment. It encircled her long legs, leading to the calf-length tails in back that exposed the purple inner lining matching Alice’s hair.

A black hood bounced on Alice’s shoulders with every step. Her thumbs kept her hands from fully slipping into the coat pockets as she jaunted down the sidewalk. Leather leggings tucked neatly into her thick-soled black boots. Alice loved being a witch. Even though she couldn’t openly proclaim it to the world, she was determined to dress the part.

The town center bustled with activity. Shoppers went as they pleased, not a care in the world. Few stopped and acknowledged Alice as she passed. Some greeted her with a smile. Others greeted her with uncomfortable glances. Alice only returned a smirk and a nod. Some glances lingered. Some gawked—Alice assumed from prior experience—as if they wondered why someone would actively walk around in broad daylight, looking as if they were going to a costume party. Alice continued her journey, paying no attention. She knew who she was, and she was damn proud of it.

The enticing aroma of pumpkin spice leeched into her nostrils. Unmistakable hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. The ecstasy of the sweet pastry’s siren smell compelled Alice inside the bakery. She stopped. Her necklace bounced a few times before coming to a rest. She surveyed through the bakery window, craving the freshly baked pumpkin spice scones sitting inside the glass counter. She had to have one. The cravings turned into near lust.

The bakery was a flurry of activity. Employees rushed to fill orders. A glass display case stretched across one of the longer side walls. The case was filled with a plethora of multi-colored treats that delighted the eyes. Freshly baked bread. Brightly colored cakes. Glistening cinnamon rolls. Festive orange and yellow iced cake pops neatly arranged in a display carousel. Brownies bigger than Alice’s hand. Far too many choices to order in one visit. The enticing smells lingered in the air. The object of Alice’s desire rested in the corner closest to the bakery window—the pumpkin spice scones.

She paid no attention to the odd glances and looks as she approached the display case. Alice turned her attention to a little sign that read EAT ME next to a serving tray resting atop the case. Sample-sized cupcake liners covered the tray. She picked up one and removed the golden-yellow cookie inside. Alice’s taste buds exploded from the sensory overload of sweet and buttery flavors. She savored the cookie, contemplating grabbing another one.

“How can I help you?” a woman behind the display case asked.

Alice rushed to finish the sample. “Those are some good cookies,” Alice responded, covering her mouth to not spill any onto the floor.

“Baked fresh daily,” the bakery employee responded. “Would you like some?”

“A dozen, please. Also, a couple of those pumpkin scones.”

The bakery employee grabbed two brown boxes along the back wall. She packed up the items and carefully placed them into a paper bag. “Twenty dollars,” she said, handing the bag to Alice.

Alice gladly handed over the money, retrieving her prizes.

“Love the costume, by the way,” the bakery employee complimented Alice. “Are you going to a Halloween party?”

“No.”

“Getting into the Halloween spirit?”

“No. Just out shopping,” Alice replied. A half smile held back any emotions she felt in that moment.

“Oh,” was the only word the bakery employee could produce. A befuddled expression crossed her face. “Well, it looks fantastic.”

“Thank you,” Alice replied before leaving.

She peered into her bag, while grabbing the door, and collided with a man trying to enter the bakery. Their bodies spun around in the entryway.

“I’m sorry,” Alice offered. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No worries,” he assured her before continuing inside the bakery.

Alice steadied herself and stepped outside. The sight of a red knit hat covering blonde hair was unmistakable. She only caught a glimpse before it disappeared into a silver luxury car across the busy street. Her face was no longer full of giddy glee, but terror.

Alice held her breath. Her eyes widened, and her body tensed. The world slowed. Every emotion from the past three months came rushing back in a blurring display of anxiety and loneliness and heartache. It can’t be . It can’t be. How did she find me?

Alice rushed in between the parked cars facing the sidewalk. Her progress was impeded by the crisscrossing traffic going down the street. She paused, not wanting to meet a car head on. She had her opportunity and took it. The bag of baked goods flapped in the air as she ran across the street.

The silver car headed away from the town center. Alice arrived to the other side of the street and continued her pursuit. She wove in and out of the crowd. Many gave confused glances as she ran after the car.

Disable the car . You have to stop it. They can’t know you’re here . She raised her hand to the air, thumb and middle finger poised to produce the necessary component for her arcane powers. Her better judgement prevented her from putting on a magical display in the middle of the crowded square. Alice watched as the car sped away.

She squatted down, touching her hands to her shoulders. She buried her face in her arms. Her hat shielded her from the outside world. How did Sam find me? The name raced through her mind. Her breathing intensified in rhythmic gasps of air. She felt trapped in her self-contained bubble, trying to shut off the outside world for what felt like an eternity. She tapped her shoulders in rapid, alternating succession.

Ten… nine… eight… seven… It’s only a red hat , she thought as her mind raced. Six… five… There are lots of blonde people with red hats… Four… three… It’s okay… Two… one… It’s not Sam. It wasn’t Sam. She slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were bloodshot. A wet trail of sadness descended her face. She regained control of her breathing.

“Are you okay?” An older gentleman stopped to help Alice.

“I’m fine.” Alice wiped the tears with her black polyester sleeve. “I’m fine. I thought I saw a ghost from the past.”

He chuckled, offering his hand to help her up. “A witch afraid of a ghost?”

Alice gave a small laugh. She took his hand and stood up. “It does sound silly, doesn’t it?”

“I love the costume,” he tried to cheer her up.

“It’s not a costume, but how—” Alice’s voice trailed off. She wanted to defend her fashion tastes, but couldn’t muster the strength in that moment. “Thanks.”

“Well, keep an eye out for those ghosts, and try to avoid them,” he said, walking away.

Alice stood for a moment to gather her composure. She picked up her bag of goodies. She checked off in the distance, trying to find any sign of the silver car. It was gone. She tilted her head, defeated.

“I should have drove,” Alice muttered as her shoulders slumped. She picked up her bag of goodies and continued her journey.

As Alice approached, the doors of Raskin’s Neighborhood Market opened. The blast of air inside the entryway attempted to knock off her hat, if not for her quick reaction to hold it in place. Happy hour activity was abundant at the store. Shoppers gathered their items before heading home for the day. Alice pulled her hat down over her eyes and slipped down an aisle to avoid any further unwanted attention.

She weaved in and out, avoiding eye contact with anyone who gave an odd stare at her appearance. Her winding twists and turns resulted in her appearing in the wine section. She stopped. The dark green hues mesmerized Alice as they glistened under the store lights. Her eyes soaked in the kaleidoscope of label colors. The brightly colored foils enveloped the corks hidden inside the bottle stems.

She grazed her fingers over the bottles, tracing their shapes as she lingered past. She longed to have her own wine brand on the aisle shelves. To be accepted by the public as a winemaker and not hidden away in clandestine clubs. She remembered her first big wine order.

Patrons enjoying the night’s revelry filled the smoky, dimly lit room. Soft jazz music played from musical instruments floating on a stage. Arcane invisible hands guided the instruments toward the next notes. Alice sat at the bar counter, taking in the atmosphere. She adjusted her form fitting, black dress as it rode up her backside. She snatched up a glass of wine sitting on the counter and took a drink. Her face contorted and shivered from the bitter taste washing over her tongue. She gave a final “blah” before shoving the glass back across the bar counter.

A petite woman with blonde beehive hair approached a bartender from behind the bar. The bartender, dressed in a white shirt and tartan style vest, scooped ice from a tray and filled three glasses in front of him.

“Is this her?” she asked. She waved her hand around in a grand gesture before pointing toward Alice with her lit cigarette, like a conductor’s wand guiding his attention.

The bartender finished filling the glasses and nodded. The woman continued on to Alice waiting at the end of the bar.

“The name’s Esmerelda Honeydew, but most people call me Ez,” she introduced herself. Her eyes focused on the wineglass in front of her and then on Alice’s purple hair. “Love the hair.”

“Thank you.”

Ez reached for an ashtray from across the bar counter.

“Here, use this. It might improve the wine.” Alice handed her the wineglass.

Esmerelda took the glass and knocked the cigarette ash into the purplish-red liquid. She glanced back at Alice with a sly smile. “Take it you’re not a fan?”

“I’ve had better. By better, I mean like every other wine out there,” Alice replied. “That is horrible.” She pointed at the glass before pulling her fingers away from the cursed wine.

“I’ve heard you’re good.”

“I’ m getting better.”

“I’m not looking for getting better,” Ez quickly responded. Her words challenged Alice.

“Mine is the best you’ll ever have,” Alice stated.

Ez grabbed an empty rocks glass from behind the bar. She slammed it down on the counter and offered Alice the chance to prove her prowess. Alice produced a small silver flask from her purse. She unscrewed the top and poured the purplish-red contents into the glass.

Ez picked it up, swirling the contents inside. She took a sniff to smell the flavors of the wine. Alice crafted the wine to give off hints of vanilla and cedar. She took a sip. She swished the liquid around her mouth as if to savor every drop.

“You made this?” Ez wiped away the excess wine on her lips.

“I take it I passed,” Alice inferred.

“Can you mass produce, say, one hundred bottles?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I have an extensive list of varieties that I can make. That one was just plain, regular old wine.”

“That was one hell of a plain, regular old wine.” Esmerelda finished the glass without hesitation. “You’re hired, kiddo. Go around back and talk to Sam.”

That name jolted Alice back to reality. Sweat rolled down her back. Her body tensed, and her head throbbed. I’ve had enough of Sam for today, thank you . She scanned the aisle and found herself still alone. Alice continued, but a large display caught her attention.

Her fingers hovered over the label of an unfamiliar brand, Red-Hearted Queen . She picked up the bottle, examining it further. Her thumb traced the four suits. A minor detail, something that only a wine expert like herself would catch, drew her attention. Down in the lower right corner was a solitary, capitalized A+ opposite the 13% alcohol by volume disclosure. Alice pondered its meaning. She had never seen a marker or indicator like that. She examined another bottle. It had a B in its corner.

Alice picked up yet another bottle, but immediately placed it back down. A figure appeared in the corner of her eye and pulled her attention away from the greenish bottles. She knew instantly who it was. That unmistakable coifed hair. The beard. The same black leather jacket playing ball with his dog in the backyard the day before.

She held her breath, unable to think of anything to say should he look her way. Alice froze as Hugo Dodds placed a bottle of wine in his basket. He moved on without looking down the aisle. Alice followed, leering behind the shelves to stay hidden. She grabbed a bottle of wine, pretending to examine it, but kept a keen ear to the conversation.

Hugo approached Oliver Raskin, who was behind the meat counter.

“Hugo, I have something for you. Pork chops,” Oliver shouted as he produced a neatly wrapped package from inside the meat counter.

“Maybe she’ll actually share with me this time,” Hugo said as he placed the package of chops into his basket.

“Don’t be stealing too much from her,” Carol said as she approached the pair. Hugo wrapped his free arm around Carol Raskin as she hugged his side. “How are you doing? How did the date go?”

Hugo grimaced. “Well, let’s say she wasn’t my type.”

“So, you have a type?” Carol asked.

“You know my type.” Hugo avoided eye contact.

“And that’s exactly why I’m trying to help,” Carol pleaded.

“I met the new neighbor the other night,” Hugo said, changing the subject of the conversation.

Alice’s eyes widened as she focused on Hugo.

“And…” Carol egged him on .

“Max got me up in the middle of the night. We went outside and…” Hugo’s words seemed to trail off to Alice.

Alice gingerly placed the bottle back on the shelf, not wanting to make a sound. He did see me flying . How could you be so careless? He’s going to tell them. Her grip tightened around the paper bag handle. She shifted her weight, ready to make a hasty exit. She glanced down the aisle; it was clear.

“I think Max woke her up. She acted like she was already up, but I’m sure Max woke her. Max barks all the time,” Hugo finished.

Alice let out a sigh of relief. Her grip loosened.

“You should ask her out,” Oliver added.

A tantalizing jolt pulsed through Alice’s body at the thought.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” Hugo said.

The jolt of excitement turned into disappointment at those remarks. Alice peered around the corner of the aisle to get a closer look. They all focused on Hugo.

“Why not?” Carol said.

“‘Hi. Welcome to the neighborhood. Sorry my dog woke you up. By the way, since you’re up, would you like to go out sometime?’” Hugo said sarcastically.

“Ask who out?” Johanna questioned as she pushed her cart toward the deli counter. The black cart matched her buttoned up, long sleeve, three-quarters length jacket. Her brunette hair pulled back into a ponytail that dropped to the middle of her back. A burnt orange scarf draped around her neck and shoulders. The worn silver cloak clasp was pinned to her lapel.

“The usual?” Oliver asked Johanna.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

He grabbed a few cuts of meat from the counter and took them to a packing station.

Hugo motioned with his head toward the Raskins. “They want me to ask out the new neighbor.”

Johanna gave Hugo a discerning glance. Her eyes followed an invisible path from his eyes to the black onyx ring on his left hand. “ Ready to throw away the past, are you?” Johanna asked in a biting tone.

He shifted the basket to his left hand, pinched the ring with his right, and twisted. His face was pale, and all traces of a smile were gone.

“Well, I don’t think he’s throwing away the past.” Carol patted him on the back.

“I apologize,” Johanna said. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I meant to ask, are you ready to move on from Elizabeth?”

Discomfort flickered across Hugo’s face at the mention of Elizabeth. Alice moved in closer.

“Hopefully, move on from this conversation. Besides, if you asked me, I might have said yes.” Alice winked at Hugo.

Everyone turned their attention to the new participant. Head tilted. Her right hand placed on her hip. She stood poised, ready to guard Hugo from any more relationship questions. Alice extended her right hand toward Johanna.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I moved in across the street. Alice Primrose.”

Johanna reeled back, covering the silver cloak clasp. She tapped it twice. “Johanna Newes,” she greeted. She relinquished it and extended her hand, daintily shaking Alice’s. “My! It seems some people take Halloween more seriously than others in this town.”

“She’s getting ready, even if it isn’t for another two weeks,” Hugo broke the tension.

“To me, every day is Halloween,” Alice replied with a wink at Hugo.

“Well, I like it. You got to be you,” Hugo said. Alice dipped her chin, so the brim of her hat hid her blushing and smiling face. “You’ll have to forgive Johanna; she’s not a big fan of the holiday.”

“The holiday is rubbish. People knocking on doors. Begging for handouts. All in the name of what, monsters and ghosts and—” Johanna paused.

Alice raised her head and caught Johanna examining her from her boots to the tip of her hat. “Witchcraft.” She tapped her clasp twice more before grabbing her cart handle. She kept the cart between her and Alice.

“But, in Johanna’s defense, you do look like Halloween walking,” Hugo teased.

“I resent that, but thanks for the compliment.” Alice smiled back. She turned her attention to Carol. “Have my grapes arrived yet?”

“I expect the first part of the shipment in a few days,” Mrs. Raskin replied. “The distributor thought it was a typo when I asked for fifteen hundred pounds of grapes.” She chuckled.

“That’s a lot of grapes. Can you even eat that many before they spoil?” Hugo asked.

“The business of what I do with my grapes is of no concern to you,” she replied to Hugo with a sly smirk as she turned her attention back to Mrs. Raskin. “I would like to place another order. The same amount. And if you can get them here before the next New Moon, that would be fantastic.”

“I’ll do my best, deary,” Mrs. Raskin replied.

Oliver returned and handed the stack of meat, neatly wrapped in brown paper packaging, to Johanna. She thanked Oliver as she took the package and placed it in her cart.

Johanna turned her attention back toward Alice. “Any chance of you reconsidering the color of your house?”

“Well, a witch needs her place to reflect her personality,” Alice replied, her words biting back against Johanna’s. Alice turned her attention to Hugo.

“You already know my thoughts,” Hugo replied, tilting his head to the side.

Johanna grabbed the plastic grip of the cart handle. “I thought not.” She sighed as she wandered off.