Pumpkin Spice & Poltergeist (Maple Hollow #1)

After the crowd started to thin, I stepped out from behind the counter to bus tables. I couldn’t help but look out the window. I took the pendant out of my pocket. When no one was watching, I spun it around three times and hung it behind the curtain in the window, the cute little mouse face staring at me. This was fun—this quaint, little magic. Maybe this town was growing on me.

I had just turned back to clear another table when someone shrieked, “Mice!”

My stomach dropped as more shrieks erupted and patrons leaped up onto the tables or started fleeing the building altogether. Willow grabbed the broom and rushed around the countertop, but then her eyes filled with horror. A river of mice was streaming in through the front and back doors and dispersing into every corner of the café.

“Holy shit!” I hissed. “Did I do it wrong?”

Willow whipped her head toward me. “What did you do?” Willow shouted.

“It was meant to ward off pests!”

But the place had been overrun with vermin in a matter of seconds. Now, the air was full of their squeaking and scuttling.

“What? Where?”

I pointed to the curtain, and Willow rushed over and retrieved the pendant from behind it. She plucked it up and sent the small trinket twirling before hanging it back up. The mice magically reversed course as quickly as they’d come.

“You face the mouse out!” Willow growled at me once they’d all gone. “So they stay out!”

“You say that like it’s obvious,” I snapped back. “How was I supposed to know that?” Other than the fact that the pretty girl at the apothecary had told me, but I wasn’t about to tell my sister that.

“You could’ve at least told me before you hung it up in my window and scared off all of my customers.” She huffed, wiping her hands with a damp towel.

“I’m sorry!” I watched as the last little tail disappeared under the front door, my chest heaving with the panic of the moment.

Willow pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want you to be sorry,” she hissed. “I want you to ask before you make decisions that affect my livelihood, for fuck’s sake, Harlow!”

I winced. “I’ll clean it up,” I promised and turned to go fetch the mop. “I’ll make it right.”

Willow deflated at that, but she didn’t say another word as she took to the street to tell people they could return to the café after we’d cleaned up. I also heard her say the incident was my fault.

After sweeping, mopping, and polishing, the café was back to pre-mouse levels of pristine. And by the time the late-afternoon lull before closing hit, I took a moment to lie across the rust-colored vinyl of a booth, a dishtowel draped across my eyes. I’d never cleaned so much in my life.

How did Willow do this every single day? I mean, the café was closed on Mondays, but she still used that day to balance her books and do a stock inventory. I had a newfound respect for my sister. She was a machine. She was also a natural with every customer—local or tourist—who came in to the café. She greeted everyone with a smile and took care of them like a friend. The clockwork transactions, order fulfillment, and pleasantries made my sister glow with a happiness that was infectious.

Throughout the day, different patrons would come in and I’d made a game of guessing what kind of creature they were. It was pretty easy to tell the tourists apart from the magical town residents once you had an eye for it. Dressing up in costume and taking photos of everything was a dead giveaway.

In the end, it came down to “no selfies equals local.” Easy as that.

The door jangled open, and I wanted to shout, “Be right with you!” but I was too tired to even summon the will to speak. I wanted to rot in bed for a week after today. If a demon had just walked in to steal my soul, then so be it. At least then I could rest.

But then I heard a familiar voice say, “Uh, Harlow?”

With a start, I flung the towel across the booth and bolted upright like I’d been zapped with defibrillators.

“Jordyn! Uh, hey.” I dusted my hair out of my eyes and smoothed down my wrinkled apron. I knew my attempts at nonchalance were futile after my dramatic reawakening. “What’s up?”

Jordyn hugged her arms to her chest, her expression stoic if not outright angry. In the space between one breath and the next, I ran through the Rolodex of reasons she could have for coming here. Did she want me to pay for that broken bottle after all? Did I injure Ichabod?

“I was, um, wondering”—she shifted back and forth on her feet, her stony demeanor ruffling around the edges—“since you’re new in town . . . if you wanted someone to show you around? Maybe we could go to Midnight Market and grab some ice cream and walk around the town together? I mean, if you’re free. I’m sure Willow could show you around, too, if you, uh, didn’t want to.”

“Oh.” I tried—and failed—to hide my surprise. “Yes. I mean, no.”

Her face fell. “No?”

“No, Willow can’t show me around. She’s too busy,” I clumsily clarified. “I’d really like to have you show me around. Thanks for offering!”

Jordyn’s shoulders slumped, but her sour expression lifted. “How about tomorrow after you close up?”