Crescent Calling: The Crescent Witch Chronicles - Book One by R Nicole (essential reading TXT) 📗

and pointed to the sign hanging inside the door. “Openin’s at ten.”

“I just got here!” I exclaimed throwing my hands into the air. “And how do you know I’m not a customer, huh?”

She looked at me and shrugged. “You look just like Aileen.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m Mairead,” she declared like it was already a known fact.

“And what’s a Mairead?”

“Mairead’s a shop assistant,” the girl said.

“Shoot.” I opened the envelope Robert had given me and fished around for the keys. Pulling out two sets, I offered them to her. “I had no idea my mum had a shop. Do you know which key it is?”

Mairead plucked a set out of my hand and unlocked the door. “Are you tired?” she asked as we walked into the dark store. “People say you come from Australia?”

“People say?” I asked, beginning to feel nervous.

“Yeah.” She turned on the lights, illuminating the cornucopia of crystals and gems. “It’s all anyone’s talkin’ about.”

“I don’t know if I’m worthy,” I muttered, distracted by all the shiny stones. I held the envelope against my chest and moved through the shop, studying every nook and cranny. Mum used to sell all this stuff? It was kinda…cool.

“What are you goin’ to do with the shop?” Mairead looked at me expectantly.

“I really don’t know. I didn’t know my mum owned a shop until this morning. I think Robert mentioned it, but it was a shock, you know.”

“Well, I can teach you how everythin’ runs,” she said. “I’ve been workin’ here after school and durin’ the holidays for three years now.”

I glanced around at the display cases of crystals, jewelry, knickknacks, and books. The air felt strange here, like it was warm even though there was a chill to it. Running my fingertips over the slice of amethyst in front of me, I shrugged. What was the harm in it?

“I suppose it won’t hurt to keep it running until I decide what to do.”

Mairead grinned. It was such a shock considering her mopey Goth attitude I made a face.

“How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen,” she said proudly. “Well, I will be eighteen in August. I finished school last year, and I’ve deferred University for a semester. I’m startin’ at Trinity in Dublin after the summer. I was kinda countin’ on this job for some extra money… I want to get me own place.”

Movement caught my attention outside, and I peered through the shop window. I watched as a tall man began clipping the hedge bordering the car park opposite to where my rental sat. An old lady with silver hair done up in a wild-looking bun was leaning on a broomstick watching him work.

The man looked young, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. He was a messy kind of handsome with his curly hair that had been cut short on the back and sides but left long on the top, so it fell into his eyes. His jaw was dark with stubble, and when he reached higher, his red flannel shirt rode up revealing a mighty fine rear end. Damn.

“That’s Boone,” Mairead said standing next to me. She seemed to have gotten over her excitement about the shop and was now intent on relaying the village gossip. “He used to stay with Aileen.”

“He used to stay with my mum?” I raised my eyebrows and glanced at the man again. “Who is he?”

She shrugged. “He just turned up one day. Aileen said he was the son of some old friend. Now he lives about a mile down the main road.”

“What does he do exactly?” I watched as the old lady spied some kids picking some flowers poking through the hedge, lifted her broom, and started chasing them down the street. Boone dropped his clippers and began running after her, waving his hands frantically. If I weren’t so irritated and jet lagged, I might’ve laughed.

“A lot of things,” Mairead said, snickering at the scene outside. “He helps Mrs. Boyle—that’s the lady with the broom—with her garden, he works in the kitchen at Molly McCreedy’s, he does deliveries for Mary’s Teahouse, and he works on Roy’s farm.”

I snorted, wondering how he found enough hours in the day to do all of those jobs. Down the street, he’d caught the lady known as Mrs. Boyle and was coaxing her back toward her house. His arm was over her shoulders, and he was talking earnestly in her ear. Finally, he pried the broom out of her gnarled grasp and held it out of reach. Mairead didn’t seem concerned with the scene, so I assumed it was a regular occurrence.

“He’s really nice,” she added. “He’s the only one who can get Mrs. Boyle to calm down.”

“Does she do that a lot? Chase kids like that?”

She laughed and nodded. “Beware of her broom. One day, it’ll be an urban legend.”

Turning my attention back to Boone, I studied his shock of curly brown-black hair, his stubbled jaw, and his broad shoulders and decided he was handsome. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine what was underneath those trousers with the way they clung to his ass and all. I tilted my head to the side and made an appreciative face. Nice.

As if he’d read my mind, he glanced up, his gaze zeroing in on the shop window where Mairead and I were blatantly staring at him. The girl raised her hand and waved, but my cheeks flared red, and I turned away.

“So how does this place work?” I asked, smoothing down my dress awkwardly.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m trying to stay awake until it’s normal bedtime.” I shrugged.

“Well, the whole village is shuttin’ down tomorrow for Aileen’s funeral,” she said. “But I can help as much as you want today.”

“Is there much business?” I asked, wondering if everything closing was the Irish version of a state funeral. “It seems really quiet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mairead said excitedly. “Tons of tourist buses stop all the time. Mostly from now until October, but there’s always someone comin’. It’s quiet now, but just wait.”

Looking out the window