A Notion of a Potion

  A Notion of a Potion

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2019 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Thanks for Reading

  A Few of My Other Series

  Chapter 1

  “I miss the snow.”

  I looked across the counter, where Phineas Lichen, in his wide-brimmed, straw hat and big bag smiled at me. Chuckles, the pet rooster on Phineas’ shoulder, eyed me and let out a muted crow. I knew Chuckles could be much louder, which was why Phineas drank his wheatgrass smoothie on the back patio.

  “I know better,” I said as I mixed the wheatgrass smoothie. “You were as put out as anyone.”

  “True, but it seems we’ve bypassed spring. We went from snow to summer. Is having a spring too much to ask?”

  Phineas was right. Our small town of Goodsprings, Georgia went through almost a month of nightly snows. Phineas didn’t know that the snow was the result of a spell that went a little haywire—well, a lot haywire. The junior member of our witch coven made the mistake, and it took the entire coven, and some deep research, to undo the damage.

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Phineas. A vine has invaded my orchard, and so far, it has not succumbed to any of my efforts to get rid of it. This summer heat hasn’t helped either.”

  I handed over the smoothie.

  “I’m sure you will find a solution for the vine. You always do, Samantha. And if you don’t, well, you can plow it under.”

  “Gee, thanks. Remind me to call you when I need a pick-me-up.”

  With a touch of his hat and a laugh, Phineas and Chuckles left me, and the next customer stepped up. My shop, Happy Blendings, was in the middle of the morning crush, and I was all alone. David, my long-time, trusted employee was on a cruise with his extended family, and from photos he posted he was having a great time. I missed him, and not just because of his blending skills. We had formed a working partnership.

  And, if David was working, I might find some time to work on my ancient house. It wasn’t truly ancient, just old, with parts that were constantly breaking down. Being an earth witch, I could conjure up a spell for a recalcitrant patch of spinach or an anemic herb garden. But trying to find something that would work on plumbing or wiring was beyond my abilities. Finding a witch that worked with machines and systems was nigh impossible. Witches worked with the natural world.

  “What can I get you?” I asked with a smile.

  The man smiled back, and he had one of those dentist-enhanced smiles, every tooth white and perfectly straight. Black hair swept back and perfectly cut, tan skin, silk shirt and linen pants, he projected money, lots of money. My faded jeans and tie-dyed tee advertised my fiscal state—not very good.

  “What would you suggest?” the man asked. His voice was modulated and smooth, like a trained speaker.

  “Well,” I said. “I can’t reveal my secrets. So, I’ll fix you something. If it doesn’t suit, then I’ll let you pick the ingredients. How’s that?”

  “A pretty offer from a pretty lady. How can I go wrong?”

  “Give me a minute,” I said, and he moved away.

  As the owner and chief smoothie maker, I prided myself on my sixth sense. I could look at someone and fashion a smoothie that would not just taste great but provide the minerals and proteins that the person needed. For the high roller, I started with pineapple juice and apple slices. I added some grape seed and walnuts and a bit of carrot juice. I finished with coffee beans for a caffeine high and blended to the perfect texture. As I held out the smoothie, he came forward and sniffed the concoction before tasting. I was little miffed, as I saw no reason for him to do the sniff test. I attributed his poor behavior to him being a visitor. And I completely forgave him when he tasted and grinned.

  “Lady,” he said. “You blend a mean smoothie. I think I’m going to enjoy this town.”

  With a tip of a fake hat, he paid and walked out. For a moment, I wondered just what he meant by his comment. But the next customer stepped up. Business was business. I needed a new roof and additional insulation in the attic. The cold, snowy winter had shown me how a thin layer of insulation cost me money. I needed to work. It was indeed that simple.

  Tessa stepped up a few minutes later, and her red face said she wasn’t happy. As Goodsprings’ resident fire witch, Tessa was often one match short of a conflagration. Sometimes, I thought she liked being angry. Mostly, though, she was worried about her daughter, Allie, our fire witch in training. Allie had not yet acquired her mother’s temper, but it was only a matter of time. Fire witches were temperamental...in spades.

  “He’s coming,” Tessa said.

  “What sort of smoothie do you want this morning?” I asked.

  “You’re not listening,” she said. “I said he’s coming.”

  “I recommend something cool,” I said. “Water cress and cucumber...with a sprig or two of mint.”

  “Are you deaf, Sam? I said Nic Needleman is coming.”

  “And who is Nic Needleman?” I asked.

  “The man who wants to ruin Goodsprings.”

  “I thought that was our job.”

  “Funny...not. I told you about him two days ago. Don’t you remember?”

  “I’m sorry, Tessa. I have a house that’s falling down around me. A business where my trusty employee is on vacation. And a choking vine that cannot be vanquished. Forgive me, if I don’t remember every little message.”

  “Wow, are we touchy today. Are you sure, you’re not the fire sign here?”

  “I would apologize, but I think the score for short temper is Tessa one thousand and Sam two. Now, what will you have?”

  “Exactly what you said. Sounds refreshing enough.”

  As I went about mixing her smoothie, she kept talking, which was expected. Tessa could talk like one of those robot voices on smart phones. Every sentence was an invitation for another sentence.

  “Nic Needleman is the man who bought those two old buildings on sixth street,” Tessa said. “He’s the one that wants to open a NEED-IT-NOW store right here in Goodsprings. You do remember that, don’t you?”

  “Indeed, I do. But I thought there had been no decision about that that. Don’t tell me I missed the town meeting.”

  “No, you haven’t. It’s coming up, and we have to be ready. We both know what will happen if a big, box store opens here. Main street will empty like a barn on fire. I’m not sure either you or I will make it.”

  “Don’t put the cart ahead of the horse,” I said. “NEED-IT-NOW is not open yet. In fact, the town council has yet to approve the zoning variance, right? I don’t think we have to worry yet.”

  “Money, Sam, money. Nic Needleman has money, and money is the sow’s milk of politics.”

  “Mother’s milk,” I corrected.

  “Whatever. I say we should get together an
d come up with a plan to stop the store from opening.”

  I handed over the smoothie, and I hoped Tessa would down it in one gulp, as it was about the only thing that would calm her.

  “We will do what we have to do,” I said. “When we have to do it. By the way, do you know a good, reliable, cheap plumber? You know the expression, when it rains, it pours.”

  “I have a stack of business cards in my office. I’ll go through them. I’m sure I have one for a plumber. Good and cheap? Well, that’s a guess.”

  Tessa left with a wave. She owned the Good Eats Grill, and she would have her own crush of customers to deal with. I pasted my second-best smile on my face and waited for the next customer to order. By the calendar, summer had yet to arrive. By the consternation thermometer, we were already embroiled in summer heat.

  Half an hour later, Erica Morris stepped up to the counter. Erica was a florist who owned the Blossom and Bloom Flower Shop not far down the street. Thin, with marvelously long fingers, she was well known for exquisite displays of both common and uncommon flowers. Her shop featured a number of exotic plants that even I had trouble naming. Erica was the florist of choice for all the local brides, and had I not known better, I would have suspected her of being an earth witch. She was that good. Yet, despite her expertise, she gave off a disinterested air, as if she were constantly working out her next bridal bouquet. The black rim glasses didn’t negate that image.

  “Petals,” Erica said. “I think I need petals today.”

  “Petals, it is,” I said and began to mix. “How is the flower business?”

  “Good, but for how long?”

  “As long as you want, I would say.”

  “Oh no, I don’t think so. NEED-IT-NOW comes with a flower section as big as my store, and it’s for certain they can acquire inventory cheaper than I can. How long before they run me out of business?”

  “You do yourself a disservice” I said. “You can run rings around any florist they bring in. Don’t forget that beauty is what sells flowers, not price.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I worry so much. I’ve made my life here. I like Goodsprings. It’s been good to me. I would hate to leave.”

  “Let’s not put your house up for sale yet. The zoning variance is not approved. And I don’t think it will be. The mayor and council know better than to let a box store empty out the downtown.”

  I handed over a smoothie that I knew would ease Erica’s fears, but a smoothie could do only so much. It wasn’t nirvana from a blender.

  Just before lunch, Cameron Cutler came in, not so much for a smoothie, but for a chance to give me his view of the upcoming town meeting. Cameron was heavy, with thinning, black hair, and a reputation for a hair-trigger temper. I supposed he spent too much time in his barber chair when he didn’t have customers. But no one ever complained about his haircuts. He was handy with a pair of clippers and a straight razor. If he blustered on occasion, it was overlooked by his patrons.

  “Samantha,” he began. “I just wanted to make sure you’re on our side, as far as this NEED-IT-NOW thing is concerned. We business owners have to hang together on this.”

  “I think you know how I feel,” I said. “I don’t think Goodsprings needs a big, box store. We seem to be doing quite well without one.”

  “I agree, but there are some who would sell their soul to the devil for an extra nickel. I won’t name names, but we both know who they are. Not many, not many, but if we don’t stand strong, they’ll waver.”

  “Cameron, I assure you, we will all speak as one. I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. That Nic Needleman is one smooth talker. He stopped in my shop this morning, and after a few minutes, he had me nodding like I agreed with everything he was saying.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating. No one can get one past you, Cameron.”

  He looked at me, and I knew he didn’t know if I was joshing or not. I didn’t feel like making it certain. I was tired.

  “Well, he didn’t,” Cameron said. “And he won’t. I know where my bread is buttered. I’m sure you do too.”

  With that, the barber left, and I was happy that he did. While we were in agreement about NEED-IT-NOW, we were not in the same social circles. Although, I was sure I could tell him I was an earth witch, and he would simply keep on talking. He didn’t have a magical bone in his body.

  In the smoothie business, there was generally a mid-afternoon lull. It was sort of like a siesta. Business slowed, and I generally took a breather. When Jackie Jorgensen, the owner of the Good Beans Café, walked through the door, I was pretty sure any breather had been erased from my agenda.

  “Samantha,” Jackie said. “Got a minute?”

  “Certainly,” I said. “How about half a smoothie?”

  “Something refreshing. It’s the heat.”

  “Talk while I work,” I said.

  “That’s a winner.” Jackie was stocky, strong and upright, thickish. Her café was mostly coffee and pastries, and she turned out a tasty strudel that everyone loved. Her blonde hair was cut very short, for convenience I supposed. Her blue eyes tended to stare. I had become used to that.

  “It’s about NEED-IT-NOW,” Jackie began. “I’m not sure I want it in Goodsprings.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It doesn’t fit.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s like a coffee cake. There are some things that fit in a coffee cake, and there are some things that might fit, but if you put them in, you no longer have a coffee cake. Know what I mean?”

  “I think so. You’re saying that putting a big box store in downtown Goodsprings would turn the town into something else.”

  “Exactly. It might fit, but we wouldn’t be Goodsprings anymore. We’d be the same as a lot of other towns.”

  I could have told her that with a coven of witches around, Goodsprings would never be the same as any other town. But after the snowy winter, I didn’t think she would appreciate that.

  “I think you’re right,” I told Jackie, who beamed. “At the town meeting, I want you to bring up that point. I’m sure almost everyone will agree.”

  Jackie sailed out of the shop with a smile on her face. Nina Newman, on the other hand, entered with a decided scowl.

  “I don’t have time for a smoothie,” Nina said. “I just need to know if you’re for or against NEED-IT-NOW.”

  Nina owned the local farmer's market. She provided the building and the support that allowed the local farmers to display and sell their produce. There was a grocery involved, where Nina made her money, but she did provide a vital service to the town. The local produce was generally excellent. I shopped there for the items I couldn’t get from my garden and orchard.

  “I’m with you,” I told Nina. “We don’t need NEED-IT-NOW.”

  Nina smiled. She was an older woman who always wore jeans and a sweatshirt. When Allie was young, she used to ask if Nina was hiding tattoos on her arms. I didn’t think so. I supposed Nina simply handled too much produce and wanted to protect her skin.

  “That is great,” Nina said as she blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “We’re pretty much unanimous about this. Of course, if that Nic Needleman starts throwing money around, who knows what will happen.”

  “Everyone will do what is right for Goodsprings,” I said.

  That made Nina chuckle. “Oh no, dear, that won’t happen. I’m not so green as to buy that. But if the defections are few, we can get the council to side with us—I think.” She headed for the door. “You are coming, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll be there,” I called to a closing door. Nina had never been the patient kind.

  In the late afternoon, business generally picked up, and this afternoon was no different. Among those stopping by was Luther Baron, the owner of Baron’s Books. Luther was a small man, with hunched shoulders and thick glasses. I had never seen him without a book in his hand or under his arm. This day was no except
ion.

  “Well, what is the verdict?” I asked as I mixed his usual serenity smoothie. Serenity was a big seller to parents who had lots of kids.

  Luther looked at the book in his hand. “Well, it’s a thriller, so the pace is fast, and the characters are thin. No one minds that in a thriller. The plot is not sufficiently winding, in my opinion. Thrillers have to have lots of reversals. It reminds me of—”

  “Not the book, Luther,” I said gently. “NEED-IT-NOW.”

  “Oh...oh, yes, yes, I apologize. I thought...never mind what I thought. I’m afraid, it’s always about the books with me. Just last week—”

  “NEED-IT-NOW.”

  “Ah, precisely. I have a wait and see attitude. I’m no fan of such stores, but I’d like to listen to both sides before I choose one.”

  Luther was a customer who rarely changed his order, so I handed over his usual, and he smiled.

  “You always seem to know what will please me,” he said. “Perhaps, I should try that with my customers. Choose a book for them.”

  “If I had time to read,” I said. “I’d let you pick out titles. But right now, it’s all I can do to keep life and limb together.”

  After Luther, there was a flurry of activity that left me perspiring and half-confused. I glanced at the clock and discovered that several more hours were ahead of me. I reminded myself that my grandmother worked longer hours than I did. It was a matter of “attitude”.

  And attitude marched through the door in the figure of Carey Welles, the owner of Goodsprings Brewery and Genevive’s father. Big, strong, a beer belly, the sweat on his face told me he had been out walking, probably working the other shop owners. He came to the counter and smiled.

  “Something cool, Sam, lemonade and, well, cold.”

  I chuckled. “Cold is the flavor of the day.” I started with lemonade and ice and started adding.

  “And I’d like to get your take on NEED-IT-NNOW,” he said. “For or against?”

  “Mostly against,” I said. “I can’t see much of a benefit. That kind of store is soulless, to my way of thinking.”

  “Soulless. That’s a fair description. Square, cold, and loud. You ever notice how loud those places are?”