Read Online Magic and Macaroons by Bailey Cates - Free Book Online

that they had to be related, sat at another table, lingering over sweating glasses of sweet tea and sharing a piece of Lucy’s hummingbird cake. A young man sat across from a woman of similar age, both hunched over their laptops and in their own separate worlds, defined by whatever was playing through their earbuds. Both were swigging black coffee, and she was drumming her fingers on the tabletop. Given the textbooks piled by her computer, I guessed they were college students studying for summer finals. Another woman sat on the sofa by the bookshelves, engrossed in a hardback volume with a brightly colored dust jacket.
    It looked like a small bomb had gone off in the reading area. Two chairs had been moved next to the front window; plates and cups littered the top of the coffee table. Even the windowsill where Lucy’s Honeybee had been sitting last evening held dirty dishes. Apparently, the two self-bussing stations at each end of the bakery were invisible to our patrons. Still, business was business, and I wasn’t going to complain about a rush or a little cleanup. I returned the chairs to their places andgathered crockery to take into the kitchen, happy to see the customers must have enjoyed their goodies; only crumbs remained on the plates.
    I returned to the library to tidy the shelves of books. Our library was open to everyone who came into the Honeybee. Anyone could take a book or leave a book, but most of the volumes were supplied by the ladies of the spellbook club. They had started this practice before we’d even opened, and, in fact, had been loaded down with bags of books the very first time I’d met them.
    They chose the books using whatever method worked for them. It was largely intuition, but Mimsey sometimes employed the use of her pink shew stone, and Jaida might check about the usefulness of a particular book using a tarot spread. However they chose them, the books in the Honeybee library were intended to help patrons in whatever way they could.
    As a result, the collection was rather eclectic. Unsurprisingly, there were a large number of self-help books and a good-sized how-to section. There was also fiction—everything from contemporary and classic literature, to science fiction, romance, mystery, fantasy, and werewolf tales. There were memoirs and science books and cookbooks. You never knew how a book might benefit a customer, and it wasn’t our job to guess. Only to supply the books. Whenever I saw someone leave with one of the books the ladies had supplied, I felt a flicker of satisfaction.
    I picked up a copy of How to Write Hit Country Songs and tucked it into its proper place. Next I returned a copy of Civil War Savannah to the shelf then picked up an old, dusty volume with the title Herbal Practices Throughout the Ages . Pausing, I took a look inside. It had been published in 1948. Still, the contents looked interesting, and the historical annotations could only add tothe kind of kitchen magic I already practiced. It even had a section on using herbs to increase psychic powers. Grinning to myself, I tucked the book under my arm to take into the office. I’d have to ask the ladies which one of them had brought me a book this time.
    Before I left, I turned to the woman on the couch. Her coffee mug and pastry plate were empty. I stooped to pick them up, saying, “How are you doing? Is there anything else I can get you?”
    “Oh!” she squeaked. She slammed her book closed and blinked up at me with eyes so light brown, they were almost amber. “You startled me!”
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    She laughed and waved a well-manicured hand. “Oh, gosh. No, I’m sorry. I can just lose myself in a book sometimes.” Now that she wasn’t speaking in the high register of surprise, her voice was deep and silky, the round tones of the South smoothing the edges of her words.
    I smiled in return. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s actually rather wonderful, don’t you think?”
    She nodded, eyes