Charms and Chocolate Chips: A Magical Bakery Mystery (11 page)

“There.” Rickers pointed at a dead trunk leaning against two live trees. It was gnarled and pocked from rot and animals looking for food. “Maroon bats aren’t cave dwellers like many other species. They roost in dead logs and under the bark of some trees. I saw two tucked into that crevice there. When I came back with my camera, they were gone. I started carrying my camera all the time after that and caught two more—or maybe the same two—jammed under that broken shard.” His finger moved higher.

We tilted our heads back, and in an instant I lost interest in the dead tree. Behind the cypress we were looking at another that loomed higher. Much higher.

“That tree has to be at least a hundred and fifty feet tall,” I breathed. “And old. It must be terribly old.” I lowered my gaze to Evanston Rickers. “How old do they get?”

“I’ve heard they’ve found bald cypress as old as twelve hundred years,” he said, still studying the white weathered wood of the trunk directly in front of us.

It was more than age and size that drew me around the alleged bat roost toward the cypress. It exuded power. What I had taken for the distilled life-energy signature of thousands of animals was actually coming from that tree. It felt foreign, but at least it wasn’t the sticky feel of decay like the origami bat or the dark rusted-metal sensation of true evil I’d witnessed once before. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, in fact. But it was most certainly the strongest
pull
I’d ever experienced.

“Ms. Lightfoot!”

Rickers’ voice stopped me.

I whirled around. “I’ll just be a sec.”

Cookie’s eyes were round with alarm. “Come back now, Katie. We need to get going.”

Bianca looked between us, puzzled.

“I was just going to warn you that there’s a cottonmouth den a few yards in front of you,” Rickers said. “I advise that you find another route.”

The cypress still called. For a brief moment I actually considered risking the snakes.

I’m thinking of walking through a den of cottonmouths? Oh, dear. Something’s oh-so-very not right.

“Katie, come on,” Cookie urged. She put some of her Voice into the words.

It ran off me like water off a ring-necked duck, but the fact that she had felt a need to use it was enough to get my attention. With an effort, I retraced my steps and led the way back down the narrow path to the bridge.

What was the deal with that tree? Had Cookie felt it, too? Even as I walked away, it tugged at me with its silent whisper.

The whisper lessened as I crossed back over the bridge and saw that a shiny black Land Rover was now parked next to Bianca’s Jaguar.

A Land Rover identical to the one Steve drove.

When we reached the Rover, no one was inside. Rickers turned toward the cabin and saw the door was ajar. He strode toward it, fury written on his face.

I was surprised to see the man I’d seen in the Dawes Corporation stairwell come out of the cabin to meet him. Leaning to the side, I tried to see if Steve was inside as well, but Rickers reached out and slammed the door closed behind Logan Seward.

“How dare you enter my cabin without my permission?” Rickers fumed.

“It’s hardly your cabin.” The attorney reached down with his handkerchief to brush dust from his expensive-looking shoes. A gray flannel touring cap hid the bald spot I’d seen in the stairwell, and his sports jacket didn’t look like it was off the rack. Still, there was something unrefined about him. The accent was southern, but not local. I hadn’t lived in the South long enough to be able to identify where he was from. At least he wasn’t as creepy in full daylight with other people around.

“I may pay for the ownership month by month, but by God it’s mine as long as I do,” Rickers said. “Not even Fagen can just barge in there unannounced.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here, Evanston. To give you this.” Seward slapped an envelope into the other man’s hand. “Notice to evacuate within sixty days.”

Rickers stared down at the envelope and then back up at Seward. The muscles along his neck and jawline worked. “I thought you said I’d be able to finish my work here.”

“Things have changed.”

Things
. Had Autumn’s death made such a difference to the land deal?

He gave his shoes one last dusting and moved to the driver’s side of his car. Looking me in the eye, he tipped the front of the pretentious-looking touring cap. A narrow ray of sunlight glinted madly off a silvery pinky ring. “Ms. Lightfoot.” And to Bianca and Cookie, “Ladies.”

I inclined my head. “Mr. Seward?”

His hand froze on the door handle. “Yes?”

“Why are you driving that car?”

The smile almost reached his eyes. “Of course you would recognize it, wouldn’t you? It happens that I walked to work today, and when I found I needed to make this”—his eyes darted to Evanston Rickers and back to me—“unexpected journey, I borrowed the Land Rover. Satisfied?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, resisting the urge to make a tart retort. Something about the guy made me itchy.

“Good day, Ms. Lightfoot.”

“Mmm-hmm,” was my tepid response.

“How do you know him?” Bianca asked as he drove away. Rickers eyed me with suspicion.

“We haven’t formally met. However, he’s driving Steve’s car.”

Steve must have told him who I was. He would have, of course. Because that ring on Logan Seward’s pinky finger was very similar to the one I wore around my neck. There was only one source for those rings. I wondered where he’d tattooed the druidic sigil each member of the clan sported.

I glanced at Evanston Rickers. He’d opened the envelope and was reading the contents, his face white.

“We’ll be going now,” I said to him. “Thanks for your help.”

He looked up, eyes blazing. “Georgia Wild needs to stop the rape of this land. No one else will help.
Please
.” Power echoed in the word. Magic? Simple passion? An echo of the power of the tree? His attention returned to the notice to vacate, and the moment passed.

“I’ll tell Wren about what just happened,” I said. I knew it was lame, but it was all I had to give him.

“You do that,” he said.

•   •   •

“What do you think?” Bianca asked. “Smart, active, good-looking. And that deep, sexy voice? Whew!” She was referring to Evanston Rickers, of course, and she wasn’t asking me. Her dating adviser was sitting in the backseat while I rode shotgun this time.

Cookie leaned forward and put her hand on the back of my seat. “It would be better if he didn’t have to leave in two months.”

Bianca laughed. “Oh, but what a fun two months it could be.”

I blinked. “Bianca!”

“What? Cookie can play the field. Why can’t I? I never said I wanted to get married again. I just want a little company. And some fun. If I knew it would only last a couple of months, I might not even tell him I’m a witch.”

“Well, that is simply stupefying. Don’t you want a relationship to be honest? If you lie to him, he might lie to you—threefold.”

Cookie made a noise in the backseat. “So now omission is a lie? You didn’t seem to see it that way when you were flirting with Declan and the poor man had no idea you were spending your time casting spells and juicing up the Honeybee baked goods with magic.”

I bit down on a retort and counted to ten. “You’re right. I was getting used to the idea of being a witch myself. Until I did, I couldn’t talk about it with someone I was just getting to know. And in the end, I did tell him and it turned out fine.”

“Ladies, please don’t bicker. Maybe you’re right, Katie. Maybe I should think more about exactly what I want.”

We were all quiet for a few miles. Then I couldn’t help saying, “What about that tree?”

“The giant cypress?” Bianca guided the Jag smoothly around a curve in the highway. “You seemed quite drawn to it.”

“Really drawn to it,” Cookie said from the backseat.

“Didn’t you two
feel
it?”

“No,” Bianca said at the same time Cookie said, “Yes.”

“Well, there was something going on, but I didn’t associate it with that tree,” Bianca said.

“You were distracted by the man candy,” Cookie said.

Bianca rolled her eyes before glancing over at me. “So what’s the deal with that tree?”

I looked back at Cookie. “Do you know?”

She shook her head.

“Me, neither. But whatever is going on with it is
strong
.”

“And it hooked you. I saw it,” Cookie said. “I think you should stay away from it.”

Bianca frowned.

“You’re probably right.” I imagined I could still feel the pull of the cypress, calling to me across the miles in a wordless whisper.

•   •   •

Steve picked up on the third ring. “Hello, Katie-g—sorry.”

Well, at least he was trying. “I have a bone to pick with you, Mr. Dawes.”

“Uh-oh. But I’m afraid I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back?”

“Sure,” I grumbled.

“We need a berry shortcake,” Ben called from out front where he was ringing up a young couple with a baby at the register.

I hurried to the kitchen to construct the shortcake for Ben’s customer. First I split the giant, biscuit-shaped shortcake with the tines of a fork and laid the lower half on a plate. Macerated strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, and stewed and sweetened gooseberries piled on next, followed by a layer of honey-balsamic whipped cream, a few more berries, the top of the shortcake laid across at an angle, another dose of whipped cream, and a sprig of spearmint topping the whole tower of sweet goodness.

“Two forks?” I asked as I set it on the table in front of the couple.

Their eyes widened at the giant treat, just as Mrs. Standish’s had, and they nodded. I handed them the forks already in my hand and returned to the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later Steve still hadn’t called me back. I was putting a batch of thumbprint cookies into the oven and was thinking about trying him again, when the devil himself came in the front door. He spoke to Ben and gestured toward where I was wiping my hands on a dish towel.

I heard him say, “Katie wanted to talk to me.”

Ben came into the kitchen. “Dawes is out front,” he said, his brow knitting. “Said you called him?” He couldn’t keep the disapproval out of his voice. He’d encouraged Declan and me to get together almost from the day we met.

“Tell Steve I’ll be out in a minute,” I said.

I finished loading up another sheet with cookie dough and let Steve cool his heels a bit while I gathered my thoughts. It wasn’t that I was avoiding him, but Ben made me feel self-conscious about seeing him.

That’s ridiculous, Katie. You can be friends with anyone you want.

Worrying about it was stressful and unnecessary. I decided right then and there to take back my power; Steve and I could be friends, but I had no interest in being best buddies. As for the tension between Steve and Declan, that was, unfortunately, their problem.

Marching out front, I found Steve in the Honeybee library eating mocha shortbread, drinking his usual cappuccino, and idly flipping through one of the old copies of
Life
Magazine
Bianca had brought in. He was casually dressed in a forest green long-sleeved T-shirt and hiking pants.

He put down the magazine as I plopped down on the sofa next to him. Kim Novak was on the cover, a Siamese cat sexily draped around her shoulders. The picture made me think of Bianca and Puck.

“Not sure how, but you manage to pull off that color,” he said.

I looked down at my apron. It was electric chartreuse, and I’d chosen it to match the high-tops I’d changed back into when we got back from Fagen Swamp.

Shrugging, I said, “All right—spill. Who the heck is Logan Seward?”

A smile quirked up one side of his mouth. “You do get straight to the point.”

“And?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

“You know darn well what I mean. I was there when he told Evanston Rickers he has to leave the swamp in two months. Your lawyerly ‘colleague’ isn’t exactly subtle.” I pulled at the silver chain around my neck, drawing out the protective ring Steve had given me months before. “Logan is a member of the Dragoh Society, isn’t he?”

Steve inclined his head. “He told me he ran into you this morning.”

“He recognized me. You’d already told him who I am.”

“After you came to the office yesterday afternoon. He asked me about you after he saw you leaving. Found you quite attractive and wanted to know more about you. So I told him a little, leaving out that you’re a witch. He’ll probably find out from one of the other druids sometime, though. And I told him you have a boyfriend.” The last word sounded a little tight, as if he’d had to squeeze it out. Still, his face remained impassive.

Wait a minute. “Why did he need to know I have a boyfriend?” I wasn’t fishing, just clarifying.

“He mentioned something about buying you a drink.”

Logan Seward wanted to ask me out? I wrinkled my nose. “He’s a little old for me, don’t you think?”

Steve raised one shoulder and let it drop. “May-September romances aren’t exactly unheard of.”

It was true. But with the vibe I got from Seward, there was
no
chance that was going to happen. “Where’s he from?”

“Kentucky. Elizabethtown.”

I sat back on the sofa as I put it together. “He’s the cousin. Nel’s cousin who the Dragohs were planning to recruit to flesh out your numbers.”

“Did recruit, actually.”

“And the Dawes Corporation hired him,” I said.

“Sort of. He’s not an employee per se, but we do have him on retainer.”

“How’s that working out?”

Steve hesitated. “It’s early days yet.”

“Meaning?”

“This real estate transaction is the first real legal work he’s done for us.”

“So he’s new to Savannah, recruited out of the blue to join an ancient group of druids, and dumped right into the offices of Dawes Corp. At the very least he needs to show that he can cut the mustard to be in your club,” I said.

He held his hand and made a waffling gesture. “Sort of. It would be nice to know what we’re dealing with.”

“How far would he go to prove himself to the other Dragohs?” I wondered out loud.

“Oh, Katie. You can’t really think—”

I held my hand up. “I’ve had exactly two encounters with Mr. Seward, and neither was particularly pleasant. I don’t know what to think. Do you happen to know what he was doing Saturday afternoon?”

Steve looked troubled, then shook his head. “No idea.”

“He sure didn’t waste any time kicking Evanston Rickers out after Autumn was killed.”

“The guy who lives in the swamp? Tell me about him.” He made a face. “I think he intimidates Logan.”

“What kind of a druid is intimidated by a college professor?” I asked.

The bell over the door dinged, and I half stood to see whether Ben and Lucy needed help with the newcomers. Two couples milled in front of the menu board, trying to make up their minds.

I sat back down and continued. “The short story is Evanston Rickers is a zoologist on sabbatical from the University of Oregon to study critters in Fagen Swamp. He spotted a small number of maroon bats. Wren says twice, but he said he saw them three times. Either way, as a zoologist he’s qualified to make the identification. He’s fervent about saving the swamp habitat—not to mention an extinct animal species.”

“Not very happy about being evicted.”

I held up my palms. “Who would be? Especially after he’d been told he’d be able to continue his work.”

Steve studied me. “What else?”

Of course he could tell there was something else. I debated what to tell him. What the heck—at least there was a chance he would understand.

“There’s a tree in the swamp,” I began. “A big cypress.
Big
.” I paused. “Powerful.”

“Powerful how?”

“I don’t really know,” I said. “There was this crazy charge to the atmosphere. And it called to me—not in words, but . . . you know?”

His thumb stroked his chin. “Logan never mentioned it.”

“Bianca didn’t feel the call, either, but her attention was . . . elsewhere. Cookie felt something, but not as strongly as I did. She certainly noticed the effect it had on me.”

“Fascinating. Reminds me of when you smelled burning hair and no one else did.”

I shuddered, remembering. “Mungo smelled it, though. I wonder if he’d be affected by the tree.”

Steve said, “I might have to make a trip out to Fagen Swamp myself.”

“You’ve never even been there?”

He shook his head.

“Steve! At the very least you need to see the place your father’s company is trying to destroy.”

He pressed his lips together. “You’re right.”

I looked at my watch. “Cookies are about ready to come out of the oven. Did you come all the way over here just because I called?”