Lucinda Caraway loves living in Freya Grove, the mystic seaside town where charms, hexes, and magical beings of all kinds are the norm. She spends her days teaching high school history and her nights reading tea leaves and tending to her conjure garden. It’s a good life . . . but she can’t stop wishing for more.
Until one night, that wish turns into a spell, and suddenly Lucy can’t say no. Not to a public karaoke performance. Not to running a 10K. And, most alarmingly, not to her high school crush, Alexander Dwyer, who needs her help unjinxing his new house—which just happens to be right across the street from hers.
Alex has spent the last ten years traveling the world on adventures Lucy has only ever dreamed of, and he’s planning to leave again as soon as his house is safe to sell. But until Lucy can unhex herself, she and Alex are stuck together. And with so much magic in the air, maybe the next spell Lucy casts will be the one that convinces him to stay.
Publisher:
Grand Central Publishing
Print pages:
352
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Whenever it rained in Freya Grove, New Jersey, Nana Ruth Naomi Caraway, the matriarch witch of the family, said the same proverb to her eldest granddaughter, Lucy.
“You don’t know how deep a puddle is until you step in it.”
With her plastic barrettes and baby teeth, Lucy had nodded, awed by Nana’s never-ending words. They sounded so wise, but of course she, having only started kindergarten that year, didn’t know what Nana was talking about at all. Nana leaned on her cane, squinted at the downpour from the warmth of their communal living room, and nudged little Lucy with her bony elbow. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she opened the door and ushered Lucy outside into the rain. Together, they splashed around in the puddles on the sidewalk, their joyful laughs echoing out onto Summerfield Street. Afterward, they came back inside, dried off, and had cookies and hot mugs of loose tea. Nana showed Lucy how to read endless possibilities in the bottom of a porcelain cup through tea leaves.
That rainy afternoon was the first time Lucy learned that she, like everyone else in her family, was a very special person. Plants bloomed and opened under Nana’s attention and touch. Pots and pans bubbled with sweet and oily brews that were left to simmer for hours. Nana knew when the phone was about to ring before it made a sound and when visitors were coming over. Dressed in a pink calico house dress, she rolled the Mercury dime between her fingers while she scanned aged, stained pages of the ancestral spell book.
Nana was with the ancestors now, but the lessons remained rooted in every spell Lucy completed. Now when it rained, Lucy felt a grief so deep and swift it cut across her chest. She might have jumped in the puddles back then, but now Lucy avoided all big and small waters. What was the point of messing up her shoes? Her weather app alerted her to any surprising thunderstorms headed to the Jersey Shore. She had collapsible umbrellas in both her purse and desk at school. She didn’t jump into bodies of water without looking, and she, as TLC warned years ago, didn’t go chasing waterfalls. Lucy avoided surprises by keeping her behind home and staying away from places she had no business being.
No surprises. Just the way she liked it.
That’s why she loved the Founders’ Day Festival.
It took place the second week of May; it lasted for five days and was the unofficial start of the beach season in the Grove. All fun at the festival was structured and predictable. There was always the knockdown game, the Madame Zora fortune booth, funnel cake stands, and the Ferris wheel, which sparkled on the grounds. As she and her sisters drove to the festival from their family’s house in their beat-up car, giddiness bubbled within her. Amusement rides, food trucks, and booths set up in Grove Park were illuminated in the near distance. Lucy parked the car and practically sprinted over to the festival, her sisters trailing two blocks behind her.
This event signaled the end of the school year and the beginning of summer vacation. She breathed in the fresh-cut grass and let out the stress of getting her final marking period grades in on time. The sun set, and the festival lights lit up the large park. Seagulls drifted on the thermals, searching for abandoned french fries. The ocean breeze, calm and inviting, wafted through the air. She stood at the edge of the fairgrounds, scanning the white and purple booths and smiling at the citizens—both human and non-human—who shared the same magic in their eyes. It was nice to see goblins and ghosts out on the prowl, rubbing shoulders with their fellow neighbors.
The Grove was out to play.
She smiled, but there was a sense of hesitancy inside that made her stand still. Tonight was her first time out in public since she and Marcus broke up over winter break. She’d used the cold season to recharge, drink huge cups of clove and cinnamon tea with honey, and prepare charms for the impending spring. But it was time. The seasons had changed, and she couldn’t hide away at home any longer. Once spring bloomed, so did she, so she ventured out into the Grove. Her soul mate and destiny waited.
Cheers caught her attention like a forgotten song playing over the radio. Carnival barkers enticed people to try their luck. Squeals from passengers filled the air. The scent of delicious salty, buttery popcorn and fried dough eased her nerves. As a teacher, she wasn’t running toward the end of the school year but rather throwing herself over the line like an Olympic racer trying for a photo finish. There were only so many times she could deal with that one colleague asking the unnecessary, long-winded question after every staff meeting and being asked to cover another class during her lunch break.
She wasn’t burnt out; she was burnt to a crisp.
Summer was in her reach if she only held on for a little longer.
“Hey!” Callie walked up to her, knocking her out of her musings. “You didn’t wait for us to pay the meter!”
A small wedge of guilt hit her stomach. She gave her youngest sister a weak smile. “I didn’t want to miss anything.”
“Were you trying to ditch us?” Callie looped an arm around Lucy’s shoulder and pulled her in for a quick side hug.
“I thought about it.” Lucy held back a laugh. “All’s fair with festivals and funnel cake.”
Callie pinched her arm. “Rude. Wait until I tell Sirena.”
“Right.” Lucy glanced around, found Sirena, and sighed. “I don’t think she cares.”
Sirena stood off on the sidewalk, catching up with a dapper-looking man.
“Welp. She’s gone.” Callie looked in Sirena’s direction and let out a groan. “Is that Felix? Why am I not surprised?”
Lucy sighed sarcastically. “Of course. He probably wanted to talk about catering.”
She eyed them for a long moment. Her senses tingled her neck. From the way Sirena laughed and played with her two-tone goddess locs and how Felix leaned into her space, it was apparent that she wasn’t rushing to join them.
Callie lowered her voice and nodded over at Felix. “No one laughs that loud when they’re talking about appetizers.”
Lucy quietly agreed. Felix, with his constantly crooked smile, loved to talk to Sirena for “just a moment.” Despite the obvious chemistry between the two friends, neither of them had made a move to go out on a real adult date. Nana had a saying when it came to matters of adult life and love: Fish or cut bait. You either made a move or you left a person alone. Felix did nothing, even though Sirena was tossing bait his way. Lucy hoped for her sister’s sake that she’d stop chumming his waters.
“I guess it’s just you and me tonight, kid,” Lucy said.
She pulled Callie along to the ticket booth, where they stood in line for tickets. “Watch out for the satyrs. They always want to play you a song. Don’t fall for it.”
Just then, a pair of furry satyrs, bare chested and wearing crowns of grape leaves, passed by, openly assessing them with interested glances. It was as if she’d conjured them with her words. Lucy rolled her eyes. Callie winked.
“I can’t make any promises,” Callie said, giving the duo a flirty wave. “Can you imagine what you do with those horns?”
“Listen, I have no time for pan pipes and rolls in meadows.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a friendly drink. That reminds me. Ursula’s coming over tonight.” Callie sighed. “She said she needed an emergency bridal party meeting.”
“We just had a meeting on Tuesday,” Lucy said, rubbing her forehead in frustration. Everything is an emergency with Ursula. “She called a Zoom meeting over ordering edible gold lollipops for wedding favors. I don’t think she even ordered them!”
All three sisters were members of Ursula’s bridal party, with Lucy being the maid of honor.
Callie pouted. “I can’t believe she’s getting married. Yesterday we were brewing potions and wearing black eyeliner.”
“No, I tried to keep you from burning off your eyebrows with a glamour spell,” Lucy said with a wince. Callie, with her penciled-in brows, had looked like Charlie Brown’s long-lost sister for three weeks in high school. Lucy did her best to protect her sisters and fellow witches from reckless spells, but sometimes she missed the mark.
They moved up in the ticket line. “It would’ve worked if I hadn’t mixed up the salt with sugar,” Callie said. She grimaced in good humor. “Ursula finds the most interesting spells.”
“You can’t always trust spells from YouTube or Pinterest,” Lucy warned.
“Listen, I found that feta and tomato recipe online, and you liked it,” Callie pointed out. “Besides, whatever spell she cast on Lincoln got her a ring on her finger.”
A feeling of melancholy flickered through Lucy. Ursula was the first of the Caraway cousins to get married. The unofficial fourth Caraway sister, Ursula, was the most polished of them all. She didn’t go anywhere without wearing her strand of pearls, a cardigan sweater, and a pastel dress, always looking like an aspiring country club member.
“Dress for the life you want,” Ursula had once told them over their monthly brunch. But behind that polish was a wild streak that came out whenever she got her hands on a root or a charm. Too many times, Lucy’d had to make sure Ursula didn’t end up flashing half the town during the Siren Parade. They’d been there for each other no matter what, but their personal experiences and jobs had sent them in different directions. Soon Ursula would have her own home and children, and the growing gap of life would widen between them.
Soon magic would be the only thing they’d have in common.
Lucy brushed off her melancholy and greeted the ticket seller with a kind smile. “I’ll take a hundred tickets, please.”
“I don’t think we’ll need that many,” Callie said with a laugh.
“These tickets are good for the whole week. I’m getting my money’s worth.”
Lucy paid for the tickets, then turned to Callie, who was busy scrolling on her phone. Ever since she was fourteen years old, she’d had the freaking thing in her hand, always illuminating her face like a makeup ring light.
“Sorry, I got a text. My mini mason jar shot glasses just shipped.”
Lucy sighed loudly. Callie didn’t look up from the screen. She kept typing, her thumbs flying over the phone. “This is my hustle. Don’t make that annoyed-teacher sound. I have a business to run. I’m not one of your students.”
“Then stop acting like one of my students,” Lucy retorted. “Do you want to go on the Ferris wheel?”
“I don’t like heights.”
“Do you want to play the dart game?”
“The balloons don’t pop! The game is rigged.”
“Let’s go get some kettle corn.”
Callie dropped her phone into her back pocket. “Eh, the kernels get caught in my teeth.”
Lucy groaned. Callie never made up her mind about anything, which meant they did nothing when they were together. Well, she could make up her mind. She just didn’t like any of Lucy’s suggestions. It was her gift as the baby of the family to annoy her siblings with a smile. Sirena was usually the tiebreaker, but she wasn’t here. Lucy had resigned herself to lusting over the kettle corn booth when Callie slapped her arm.
“Look.” Callie slapped Lucy’s arm again, excitedly.
Lucy pulled her arm away and rubbed the stinging skin. “Ouch. Stop hitting me!”
“There’s Mayor Walker!”
“You know I can see her. I’m not blindfolded.”
Mayor Walker stood over by the game with the stuffed animals. The mayor, the Honorable Des’ree Walker, dressed in a fashionable floral jumper, glanced around at the crowd with a superior air as if she were a queen visiting her lowly subjects. Her eyes flickered over the festival, and a pleased look flashed upon her face.
“She hasn’t answered my email about the luncheon yet,” Callie grumbled.
“Email her later. We’re having fun.”
“It can’t wait. I’ll be right back,” Callie said. “Mayor Walker!”
Callie rushed over to the mayor without another look back. It was clear from her animated hand motions and lively discussion with the mayor that Cal wasn’t coming back. Cal was a Boss Lady with a capital B, having started her own event planning business after dropping out of college. With her planning talent, she could even make a trip to the DMV something to look forward to by throwing glitter, giving out goody bags, and handing out flavored mocktails while drivers renewed their licenses.
Lucy was filled half with dread, half with anxiousness as she glanced over at Mayor Walker and Callie. If she was here, then Marcus was probably nearby. The dread went up a notch at that thought. Marcus Walker, the town’s favorite son, was her ex and the mayor’s elder son. All she had to do was think of Marcus and he popped up in front of her. They’d always bump into each other at town events and celebrations, and he’d sweet-talk her into another conversation about the good days.
He was comforting, like her favorite breakfast tea, which she drank every morning before work. Rich. Full-bodied. Basic. There wasn’t anything wrong with Marcus, but there wasn’t anything special about them being together. She’d seen the love between her grandparents. Their souls just clicked. Her parents, Vanessa and Isaac, married thirty-seven years, just fit together like missing puzzle pieces.
She and Marcus didn’t click. She was searching for her soul mate, her personal click.
It didn’t help that Marcus’s twin brother, Lincoln, was engaged to Ursula, which meant she ran into Marcus all the time. Even though their breakup was amicable, Marcus was a typical Taurus man and didn’t give up what he wanted—a second chance with her—without a fight. It’d gotten so awkward that she’d started finding silly-ass reasons not to go out with them for dinner, drinks, or happy hour. How many more times could she tell them she was cleaning her crystals and feeding their familiar, a gray cat named Shadow? She loved amethyst, but she needed to come up with another excuse. Oh well, at least the festival was a nice distraction from Marcus and everything else. Her phone buzzed. Spoke too soon. She glanced down at the incoming email. The subject line caught her attention, and she clicked it open with her thumb.
Subject: Alumni Class Note Deadline Tomorrow!
Hello Freya Grove Gladiators!
It’s time to submit our class notes for the next edition of the In the Grove e-newsletter coming out this Sunday. Tell us what’s going on with you! New job? New relationship? Recent travels? Exciting news?
It would be wonderful to hear from fellow alumni, even if not much is going on! Keep all class notes to ten sentences or less, and include your name!
As always, please pass this message forward if you know a classmate who is not getting this information, and please make sure I have your most up-to-date contact information.
If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me!
Best wishes,
Quentin Jacobson
Class Secretary
PS. Mark your calendar for our reunion weekend during the last week of August. We’d love to celebrate this moment with you.
Well, that happened. All the funnel cake in the world couldn’t change how crappy she felt after reading that email. Her mind answered the questions.
New job? She taught high school history and economics for the seventh year in a row, which was coming to an end soon.
New relationship? She was single again. No follow-up questions.
Recent travels? She hadn’t left the state since Nana passed away two years ago.
Exciting news? Well, she’d inherited a hundred-year-old Victorian manor from Nana Ruth, along with a lot of spell books. That was nothing new. It happened a while ago…
She could cut, copy, and paste the same class notes from the last two years, and no one would notice. The only thing new about Lucy was the booty-enhancing boy shorts underwear she’d gotten on sale at Circe’s Closet. A dull ache grew behind her eyes. Nana had trusted Lucy to watch over the Caraway witches’ legacy. No one protected her family legacy like she could, but it gave her pause. Who in their right witchy mind could follow in Ruth Naomi Caraway’s footsteps? No one. Ruth was a once-in-a-century witch who’d made an indelible mark on the Caraway family tree.
She’d be remembered generations from now. Who’d remember Lucy?
Her stomach churned. She was no longer in the mood for carnival junk food. She’d just be another random face in the family album, her life forgotten to time. Years from now people would narrow their eyes and tilt their heads in memory and say, Oh yes, Lucy, she drank a lot of tea, bathed in honeysuckle and vanilla oil, and she loved her crystals—a lot.
Lucy toyed with the silver saint medallion on her charm bracelet, a sweet sixteen gift from Nana, while she gathered her thoughts. She racked her brain to come up with something—anything—special about her life. What was she going to talk to people about at the reunion? Her tea pantry? Her spell books? Her cat? She rubbed her temples gently with her fingers. All she could think of was she had a new tea blend—cucumber, mint, and melon—waiting to be tasted.
Ugh, an annoyed voice said. Could you be any more boring?
She wished she had a life worth writing about, worth being celebrated, but it was so ordinary. Her twenty-ninth birthday last month meant the return of Saturn, the time of great growth. Scrying into water bowls and reading tea leaves left her with more questions than answers. How was she going to grow where she was planted?
How was she going to create a life that made her excited? A lucky paper fortune from Madame Zora would give her the answers she sought. She walked over to the familiar burgundy booth by the Ferris wheel. The machine, wheeled in from the local arcade and hooked up to a small generator, was a popular attraction. Her heart lifted seeing the finely dressed fortune-teller figure with the painted smile.
It was magic time.
Madame Zora never let her down, and this machine was rumored to be blessed by her great-granddaughter. Lucy got in line behind two others, her foot mindlessly tapping as she waited for her turn. More people got in line behind her. It took five minutes before it was her turn. She stood in front of the electric light sign proclaiming MADAME ZORA’S MYSTIC FORTUNE BOOTH. If she didn’t know what the future held, Madame Zora always had the answer for her.
She fed the money slot and pressed the button to start the reading. Bells chimed and the machine emitted an eerie light. Energy buzzed from inside and sparked against her skin. It was happening. The crystal ball glowed, and the robot-puppet waved her bejeweled hand over said ball. The machinery whirled. Lucy rubbed her hands together and cupped them to receive her fortune. Come on, Madame Zora. Show me what you got.
The machine grunted, then beeped. She watched the fortune dispenser slot for the yellow paper. Nothing appeared. Lucy took in a deep breath and calmed her nerves. It grunted and beeped twice again. No fortune popped out of the slot. She leaned down and reached into the slot with her fingers. The paper fortune was there—she could feel it with her fingertips—but it wasn’t moving. No. No. No. Despite all the tugging, the fortune wasn’t going anywhere.
A line was forming behind her. There were a few disappointed sighs.
She couldn’t be the person who broke the Madame Zora machine!
Well, at least that would give her something to write about in the class notes.
“Is everything okay?” a male voice asked behind her.
She froze, her senses tingling. Why did that voice sound familiar?
“No.” Lucy sighed. “My fortune got stuck.”
“Hold on. I got you.” The mystery man came to her rescue. Lucy stepped back as he stood in front of the machine. Whoa. He was a big, broad man who looked as if he could lift and shake the fortunes out of Madame Zora’s machine without breaking a sweat. She studied his side profile. Her heart jumped in her throat. From where she was standing, with his high-top fade and strong chin, he looked a lot like Alex. Her spirit practically leaped out of her body.
She shoved away that idea. No, that wasn’t possible. According to Alex’s social media posts, he was cliff jumping into clear blue water with gorgeous models cheering him on from the sidelines. No one—absolutely no one—gave up Hawaii for the Jersey Shore. But with every passing moment, her tingling senses weren’t tingling anymore. She had full-on goose bumps. Her eyes drank him in greedily, as if he were that last glass of iced tea and she’d just finished a long summer run. His presence cooled her inside. The thirsty parts of her rejoiced. She pressed her hand to her chest to make sure her heart hadn’t floated away from her like a lost balloon.
Lucy stepped away. She was too close. The last time she’d seen Alex, he’d turned his back on the Grove and her. What in Earth’s oceans could’ve possibly brought him home?
Chapter Two
There was nothing in Freya Grove that surprised Alexander “Alex” Owen Dwyer anymore.
He’d been back in town less than two days, and nothing had changed. As families oohed and aahed at the electric display, he merely blinked. A wave of recollection washed over him as he watched neon make the air sizzle with light. It was the same thing year in and year out. The tightness in his chest eased a fraction. He reluctantly embraced this feeling, as if he’d been given a heavy coat to wear in the middle of a rainstorm, to shield him from the cold. The feeling kept him in the moment. The town was predictable. Though a tiny part of him was comforted by the ebb and flow of the Grove, his family kept him checking his phone for random text messages detailing another Dwyer misadventure. The Dwyer merfolk were known for their…uh…interesting pursuits. Some relatives blamed the merfolk blood in their veins for influencing them to “go hard on all that weird whimsical shit,” as his college-age cousin Mariah would say in their family text chain.
Alex thought it was just the risk merfolk took when they made the journey from ocean to land. It was hard to be human, and Dwyer folk were doing their best to find their rhythm on solid ground. If it wasn’t his cousin Tony searching for lost treasure off the Florida Keys, it was his aunt Maggie investing her retirement money in a pirate-themed bed-and-breakfast. His parents, Kia and Nathan Dwyer, weren’t immune to the Dwyer whims. His childhood, while stable in some parts, wasn’t without the controlled chaotic moments.
It wasn’t unusual to wake up and have Mom and Pop declare at br. . .
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