Page 28 of Stolen Time
My reward for being so quick about my morning prep was a bowl full of scrambled eggs and a plate piled high with bacon, along with toast from sourdough bread I knew Ruth must have made right in this kitchen. Timothy already sat at the table by the window, a newspaper spread before him and a cup of coffee in one hand. Judging by the way he barely tilted his head at me before he returned to his paper, I got the feeling he wasn’t too interested in small talk before the stimulants kicked in.
That was fine by me. I never felt fully human until I had my coffee in the morning.
But Ruth handed me a cup almost as soon as I walked into the kitchen, and I took a few sips, being careful because it was still just a bit too hot. All the same, the caffeine started doing its job, sending out happy little bursts of energy and telling me I might survive being up and dressed by 6 a.m. after all.
“How did you sleep?” she asked.
“Very well, thank you,” I replied. “It’s so quiet and peaceful up here.”
She’d already appeared cheerful enough, but now her expression was openly approving. “Yes, that’s one of the benefits of living on Paradise Lane. We’re enough away from it all that not much of the sound from Main Street makes it up here. And we almost always get a cool breeze at night.”
Something I’d experienced for myself the evening before, since I’d left the window in my bedroom open before I left for my date with Seth. By the time I got back, the space had cooled down significantly, and my worries about tossing and turning all night because I was overheated appeared to have been for nothing.
“Yes, it was lovely,” I agreed, and sipped some more coffee.
Her gaze grew a little more focused. “How was your dinner with Seth?”
That was a very good question. The food had been fine, but I knew sharing the meal with him had been secondary to our conversation, to the way I somehow felt more at home with him than I had with people I’d known for years. Part of it might have been simply not having to explain myself or be awkward about my miserably backfiring time-travel gift; people in witch clans didn’t generally discuss their individual magical talents at cocktail parties or anything like that, but on the other hand, their particular powers tended to be common knowledge, thanks to the way news always spread around magical families.
And I knew people felt sorry for me, that I’d been born with a gift that should have been amazing, but because I couldn’t control it, the damn thing was a lot more like a curse. Sure, the one I’d inherited from my father was pretty cool on its own, but when you were surrounded by fellow witches and warlocks who already knew that you possessed magical talents, it didn’t come in all that handy.
Seth didn’t know about any of that, obviously, and had no idea of the awkwardness my backfiring talent had caused me over the years. In fact, he knew very little about me at all because of my supposed amnesia. And that meant when we interacted, it was just as Seth and Devynn, nothing else.
It felt a lot more real.
Well, except for the part where he didn’t know I was Devynn and thought I was a civilian named Deborah Rowe. More and more, I was hating that particular lie…even as I knew there was no way in the world I could possibly tell him the truth.
No matter what, I had to make sure he never found out I was half Wilcox, not in an era when the McAllisters had viewed theprimusesof my clan as just a step away from the Devil himself.
“Dinner was very nice,” I said. “The chop suey was fun, and the tea was lovely.” I paused there, wondering if I should offer any more information. But then, I supposed Ruth would hearsoon enough, since she seemed to be one of those people who was fully plugged into her clan’s grapevine. “Seth’s older brother Charles was at the English Kitchen, getting some food to take home with him, so I got to meet him, too.”
Ruth’s brows pulled together ever so slightly. I had a feeling she wanted to frown more deeply but wouldn’t quite allow herself to.
“Oh, Charles,” she said. “He’s quite indispensable at his parents’ store. And he and Seth get along so well, which is not always something you see with two brothers who are so close in age. But they were never competitive, thank goodness.”
“Seth didn’t want to work at the store with his brother?” I asked, figuring this might be a way I could get more information about the guy without looking like I was trying to give him the third degree in person. True, he’d already told me he could earn more working at the mine, but I still thought there must have been a little bit more behind his reasons for leaving the family business behind than a simple bottom line.
Now looking somewhat guarded, Ruth said, “From what I’ve heard, he felt they really didn’t need him to work there, and he thought he might have more opportunities working at the mine, what with the way things have been booming there lately. I have to say he’s done quite well for himself — getting made foreman so young, already owning a home. Whereas Charles always appeared very invested in the family business and was happy to work at the mercantile.”
On the surface, this all sounded exactly like what Seth had told me the evening before, so I wondered if I was trying to see something that wasn’t there. Sometimes there really wasn’t any drama to be had, and I supposed I should be glad the two brothers got along so well.
“Speaking of the store,” Ruth went on, “I have a few things I needed to pick up there today. Would you mind terribly if I sentyou with a list? That way, I can stay here and do all my baking instead of having to run an errand.”
Since I would much rather have gone to the mercantile — I was itching to see what it looked like now, compared to the touristy store it had become — than stand by and pretend to help Ruth bake scones or cookies or whatever else was on the menu today, I immediately said, “No, I don’t mind. It will give me a chance to visit the place. After hearing everyone talk so much about the mercantile, I feel as if it’s a Jerome landmark I shouldn’t miss.”
She appeared pleased that I was so eager to take on the small task, saying, “That’s perfect. And I’m not sure you could call McAllister Mercantile a landmark, although I have to admit it is an important part of our community. I’ll just put together a list after we’re done with breakfast, and you can go down when you’re ready. They don’t open until eight, so there’s no point in rushing.”
That seemed awfully early to open a shop — in my time, the store’s hours were ten until five every day except Sunday, when we opened at noon — but things were very different in this time period. Most likely, Seth’s family wanted to be available to their customers if they needed to stop in and pick up something before their day began.
And since it was barely past seven now, I knew I’d have plenty of time to finish my morning meal, brush my teeth, and make sure my hair was tidy before I headed out.
An odd little anticipation rose in me.
What would Charles be like when he wasn’t around his younger brother?
I supposed I’d find out soon enough.
The list Ruth gave me was more extensive than I’d thought — two new packets of sewing needles, thread, soap, a tin of baking soda, new stockings. However, it wasn’t such a big batch of items that I’d thought I’d have a hard time carrying them all back up the hill, even though I wasn’t much looking forward to the climb without Seth there to steady me.