Read Online Witches by Kathryn Meyer Griffith - Free Book Online Page B

chided the cat. “Don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s never acted that way with you before.”
    Ernie stepped inside, bringing the cold with him. “Must be the beard. He doesn’t recognize me.”
    Amanda noticed the new growth, streaked with gray, on his face. It did make him look different. “I like it. Makes you look distinguished.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Why the hand delivery? That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
    “I didn’t want to leave it outside by the mailbox. It’s so big, someone might have run off with it. Didn’t want it sitting out in the weather if it was important. So I thought I’d hand deliver it, and see how you were getting along at the same time.”
    “That was nice of you.”
    “I meant to stop in sooner, but I didn’t want to intrude.”
    “You’re not. In fact, I visited Mabel yesterday. It felt good to get out,” Amanda said, closing the door. She watched him take the package over to the corner and set it down with a grunt.
    He straightened up.
    “What’s in it?”
    “By the size of it and the address it came from—Trenton, New Jersey—I’d guess it was that cake of clay I ordered a while back, before...” The words before Jake died hung in the air between them, inescapable, dissipating only when Amanda’s lips turned up at the corners and she shook her head.
    The look he gave her was heartbreaking.
    “It couldn’t have come at a better time,” she assured him. “This morning I planned to start working again. The clay supply out in the workshop’s probably a hunk of stone by now.”
    “Ah, I was going to ask how the pot business was doing.”
    “Growing, and I haven’t been supplying the demand enough lately.” She couldn’t help but banter back.
    He chuckled, getting it. “Well, now you’ll have no excuse not to. Work, that is. Put me at the top of your list. I’d like another one of those green pots. Bigger than the last one. My rubber tree has outgrown it but I’ve received so many compliments on it I want another one just like it. I’ll find something else to put in the old pot.”
    “All right. One large sea-green crackled pot with a Celadon glaze. It’ll be the first one I do, I promise.”
    “Great.” Ernie pulled off his blue sock cap and stuffed it into his coat pocket, his hair windblown and mussed.
    Amanda had never noticed until then how good-looking Ernie was, in a rugged, older sort of way. He was close to forty, she’d guess, though in all the years Jake and she had known him, Amanda had never thought to ask him his age. His once-thick, black hair was now peppered with gray, and his humorous eyes were a deep brown, in a sharp-chiseled face. He was much shorter than Jake had been, barely taller than she was herself. He was hometown, born and raised; and he’d always treated her with respect.
    He was divorced. His ex-wife and teenage son lived in California, and Ernie rarely saw them. He was a man with a lot of love to give, he missed his son terribly and missed being a father to him.
    “I’ve got hot coffee and leftover bacon. Eggs wouldn’t take but a few minutes to fry up, if you have time?”
    A shadow of uncertainty crossed his face; then he glanced back at his mail truck. They’d been friends for so long, it seemed funny that they would be so unsure with each other now.
    Ernie’s face relaxed and he smiled. “I could use a cup of that hot coffee to defrost me. Today’s a short day, anyway. I’ve already delivered most of my mail but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
    His eyes slid toward the stove and the coffeepot. “Ernie, it’s no trouble, believe me. I could use the company.”
    “Good. I take my eggs sunny-side up. Three will do it. A couple pieces of bacon.”
    “Black coffee and my homemade sourdough bread to soak up the egg yolk. I remember. Give me your coat, and sit down,” Amanda told him.
    He took off his damp coat, handed it to her, and she hung it on the hook behind the door as he settled down on a