Read Online Salem Falls by Jodi Picoult - Free Book Online

handed it back to his daughter. “How come you were waiting tables? Didn’t I ask Jack to do it?”
“He was a mess. Practically broke out in hives every time he had to go over to a customer. He’s shy, you know, not nearly as charming as me, so I decided to put him out of his misery.” He nodded toward the swinging doors. “You gonna tell him about Stuart?”
Addie was already heading toward the kitchen. Delilah and Jack both looked up as she entered. “He’s okay,” Addie said without preamble. “Wallace is with him now.”
“Thank the good Lord.” Delilah rapped the spoon twice on the edge of the pot and set it down. “Heart attack?”
“Stroke, I think. The doctors talked alphabet soup. CVA, TIA, whatever that means.”
“Cerebrovascular accident preceded by a transient ischemic attack,” Jack translated. “Basically, it means Stuart had a whole lot of little strokes leading up to a big one.”
Both Addie and Delilah stared at him. “You some kind of doctor?” Delilah asked.
“No.” Embarrassed, Jack busied his hands with a rack of dry glassware. “I’ve just heard of it.”
Addie crossed the kitchen until she was a few feet away from where Jack stood. “I told Stuart that you were the one who was worried about him. You did a kind thing, Jack.” She reached out and touched Jack’s hand with her own.
He froze in the motion of unloading another tray of dishes. “Please . . . don’t.” He pulled away, breaking eye contact. “The cow,” Jack said, leaping into the silence, desperate to keep Addie from speaking. “Who’s taking care of the cow?”
She cursed under her breath. “That’s right. I need to find someone who knows how to milk by hand.”
“Don’t look at me,” the cook said. “All I know about cows is that one day I’m going to be able to braise, stew, and fry them.”
“Oh, come on, Delilah. You know everyone in Salem Falls. Isn’t there someone in this town who-”
“Yes,” Jack said, looking nearly as surprised as Addie to hear his voice. “Me.”
Starshine, the proprietress of the Wiccan Read, fixed a smile on her face as the tiny silver bells strung over the door signaled the arrival of a customer. A quartet of girls entered the occult bookstore, their laughter twining around them. The one with the greatest aura of energy about her was Gillian Duncan, the daughter of the most prosperous businessman in the county. Starshine wondered if he knew his daughter wore a small golden pentagram tucked beneath her shirt, a symbol of the pagan religion she embraced.
“Ladies,” she said in greeting, “is there anything in particular I can help you with?”
“We’re just looking,” Gillian said.
Starshine nodded and gave them their space. She watched them move from shelves crowded with grimoires-spell books-to the small vials of herbs-wax myrtle, mandrake root, boneset, joe-pye weed.
“Gilly,” Whitney said, “should we get something to help Stuart Hollings?”
“Yeah. For a healing spell.” Chelsea smiled at Starshine. “It looks like we do need your help, after all.”
Meg hurried over, clutching a six-pack of candles. “Look! Last time we were here, the red candles were back-ordered!” she said breathlessly, then realized that her friends were choosing among the herbs. “What’s up?”
“For the guy who had a stroke,” Chelsea said. “We ought to do something.”
Starshine began to empty a small quantity of something that looked like tea leaves into a tiny Ziploc bag. “Yerba santa,” she suggested. “And some willow. A nice piece of quartz couldn’t hurt, either.”
She handed one of the girls the bag and went in search of quartz, only to realize that she had lost sight of Gillian Duncan. Frowning, she excused herself for a moment. Once, a teenage witch had shoplifted an entire vial of hound’s-tongue.
She found Gillian behind the silk curtain that divided the store from the private area, where stock was kept. The girl sat cross-legged on the floor, a