“Of course.” Becca’s open face showed her confusion. “But…you’ve encouraged me before. Right here, last week, and if you did the same for Suzanne…”
Larissa’s sleeves fluttered as if she were patting down an animal. “There are too many factors, my dear. Things might be misunderstood.”
“But—” Becca paused, her brow wrinkling in a look of intense concentration. It was almost as if her whiskers were bristling, thought Clara. If Laurel had looked like that, it would have meant prey was about—and in danger. But whatever observation Becca was about to make was cut off as Ande rushed into the kitchen.
“Oh, dear! How are you?” She hugged Becca, who was still holding the kettle. “I mean, blessed be—and, please, let me.”
Unencumbered by flowing clothing, Ande took the kettle and set it to boil, freeing Becca, who turned to Larissa once more. But the older woman simply raised one manicured finger to her lips and then left the kitchen as dramatically as she had entered, a sweep of her long sleeves wafting patchouli behind her.
“Phew, what’s that smell?” Ande’s nose wrinkled up. “It’s not the cats, is it?”
***
As this was not their usual meeting, Larissa had not brought her special tea. Instead, Becca was pleased to find the scent of a spicy mint mix—akin to what they’d enjoyed the day before—soon filled her small apartment, almost drowning out the older woman’s perfume.
“To promote healing,” Larissa explained once they were all gathered around the table. “And to ease our dear sister’s spirit onto the next realm, of course.”
“Of course,” Kathy echoed as she reached out to pat Becca’s hand. “That should be our main goal.”
Becca managed a tight smile that even from over on the couch Clara could tell was forced. Her human colleagues appeared to notice this too, as Ande and Marcia exchanged a look that could only be described as weighted.
“I was thinking a sunset circle.” Larissa addressed a space somewhere above the gathering, and Clara tilted her own head back to see if perhaps a fly had gotten in. “By the river, perhaps.”
“A circle?” Becca broke into the other woman’s reverie.
“To concentrate our energies,” Marcia explained. “You know, because we won’t be at the funeral.”
“We won’t?” Becca was full of questions.
“Oh, dear, I guess you hadn’t heard?” Larissa turned toward their host. “Poor, dear Suzanne’s parents are having her interment back in Connecticut.” Her crimson lips formed a moue of disapproval. “Such negative energy.”
“Oh.” The small, sad sound made Clara long to leap into Becca’s lap. “No, I hadn’t heard.”
“We haven’t wanted to burden you. I spoke with her employer, of course.” Larissa blinked, as if holding back her own tears, which was probably why she didn’t notice Becca lean forward. Clara perked her ears up, waiting for Becca to speak. “More tea?” Larissa got there first, and Becca sat back again, holding her mug close.
“Well, since there’s no great urgency, shall we wait for the solstice?” Trent, Clara noticed, had been strangely quiet until now. “That might be auspicious.” He looked around at the coven, moving from Marcia to Ande to Kathy to Becca before pausing, it seemed, at Larissa, to his right.
“That’s a bit of a wait.” Ande sounded doubtful—and Clara saw her turn toward Marcia.
“It’s too long,” Kathy responded, before tiny Marcia could. “That’s more than three weeks from now. Better to do it sooner. We need to let her move on.” She might have been speaking of Suzanne, but she was looking at Becca, who slouched back in her seat.
“Darling, are you all right?” Larissa reached for her, but Becca pushed her chair back.
“I need a little air.” Leaving the table, she walked into the kitchen.
Laurel and Clara followed, and found Harriet waiting. “Treats?” The big marmalade rubbed her considerable bulk up against her leg, and then grunted as Becca hauled her up into her arms.
“What a pretty kitty.” Ande had followed her in. “May I?”
Harriet accepted the gentle pet as her due, while Laurel looked on. Becca, however, just stared out the window.
“I just can’t stop thinking about her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course.” Ande bit her lip. “But you can’t think that you…”
Becca shook her head. “I was just wondering about what you told her.”
“What was that?” Trent had appeared, but Becca only shook her head. “Are you okay, Becca?”
“Yeah, thanks,” She released Harriet, who shot an evil glance at the warlock. “It’s nothing.”
Without offering up any treats, she rejoined the table, where Kathy, Marcia, and Larissa were deep in conversation.
“Luz thought it was probably random,” Marcia was saying as Ande and Trent took their seats. “A robbery gone bad.”
“I don’t want to suggest anything.” Kathy’s voice suggested anything but. “Only, do you think, maybe, it wasn’t an accident that Becca found her?”
“What?” Her person’s uncharacteristic squeal made Clara’s fur stand on end. Even Harriet looked up. “Me?”
“I mean, because of your conjuring.” Kathy scanned the table for support. “Maybe if you make something appear, then you also…well, you know.”
“Now, Kathy.” Trent was the voice of reason. “That’s not how the rule of three works. If one of us does something malicious, then that will come back three times. I don’t see how a mere pillow–”
“I’m sorry.” Becca pushed back from the table again. “I don’t think I can do this—not tonight.”
“Of course, it’s all my fault.” Kathy went to her and reached to draw her into an awkward hug. “Trent’s right. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Obviously, no further planning was going to be done. And although Harriet looked up expectantly—fewer of the cookies had been eaten than usual—Clara felt for her person. She was glad when Larissa signaled the end of the meeting, shooing Ande and Marcia off with the mugs and the teapot. Becca watched as they cleared the table and excused herself to follow. She found the two huddled over the sink, rinsing dishes, as Harriet, who had followed the food, stared in rapt attention.
“This isn’t the time.” Marcia seemed incapable of speaking softly, but her tone implied a confidence, even if her volume—quite audible over the running water—didn’t. Neither was paying much attention to the fluffy feline at their feet, or to the two other cats who sauntered in to join her.
“Excuse me?” Becca, however, wasn’t so relaxed, and her voice was sharp enough that even Harriet’s concentration was briefly broken.
Marcia and Ande glanced at each other before Marcia turned the faucet off. “I’m sorry,” said Ande, dishtowel in hand. “I spoke out of turn.”
“If either of you know anything, you really do need to come forward.” Becca studied the faces of the two women. When Ande dropped her eyes to the floor, she turned to Marcia. For once, the petite Sox fan was silent, her lips tight set as she reached for a towel to wipe her own hands dry.
“Ladies?” Larissa, calling from the front of the apartment. “If you’re done with clean up…”
“Coming!” Marcia hung the towel over the faucet and leaned over to give Becca a quick hug. “Thanks, Becca.” Neatly sidestepping the three cats, she left.
“Ande?” Becca leaned in, cutting off the taller woman before she, too, could escape. “What was that about?”
The remaining guest folded her towel in her hands and peered ruefully toward the living room. “I can’t,” she said.
“If this has to do with the money that went missing…”
“No, it doesn’t.” She shook off the idea, running one hand over her face as if to wash it. “And really, Larissa just wants to forget about the finances. I shouldn’t have said anything.”