Pawsitively Betrayed Read online

  In another circumstance, Amber might have lovingly shoved Willow in Connor’s direction—especially after the teasing Willow had participated in this morning with Jack—but Molly’s presence added a new wrinkle.

  And by wrinkle, Amber meant napalm thrown on an open flame.

  Connor and Molly had moved to the animated toy section on the left-hand side of the shop. Connor held a horse in front of his face, scrutinizing it from every angle. He was speaking to Molly, but she only had murderous eyes for Willow.

  Molly Hargrove was five foot nothing, had hair so light blonde it was almost white, and could hold a grown man captive with just her intense focus.

  Willow crossed her arms. “That’s Molly, right?”

  Amber forgot that the two hadn’t formally met in person yet. “Yep.”

  “Let’s go say hi,” Willow said, and marched toward the couple, but her tone said, “Let’s kick Molly in her shins.”

  Amber scurried after her sister, if only so she could stop a fistfight from breaking out in her shop. “Hi, you two!” she awkwardly called out just before Willow reached them.

  Connor glanced up from his examination of the toy horse and visibly swallowed as he realized Willow and Molly were sizing each other up. “Hey, uh … Amber. Hi. Willow. Hello.”

  Smooth, Declan.

  “Is there something in particular you two were looking for?” Amber asked.

  Molly’s piercing blue eyes swiveled to Amber. “I realized today that I hadn’t been in your shop in a while. Con and I were just about to grab lunch down the street and I thought we should pop in to have a look around. The Quirky Whisker is an Edgehill institution, after all.”

  Amber’s brow creased.

  “Right, uh …” Connor put the horse back on the shelf. “I’m also looking for a gift for my mom. She really likes tea. I was wondering if you had any recommendations?”

  Willow piped up. “I’d be happy to help you find something for her. Follow me.”

  Connor smiled weakly at Molly and then followed Willow, leaving Amber alone with the snake.

  “And what about you?” Amber asked when Molly just stood there glaring after the retreating pair.

  Molly snapped out of it and scanned the shelves around her. “Did you inherit this place from your parents?”

  “Uh … no,” Amber said. “A woman named Janice Salle owned it before I did and she left the place to me in her will.”

  Molly’s nearly white brows arched. “You must have been very persuasive to convince her to leave it to you.”

  Amber pursed her lips. She’d only just met Molly recently, when Amber had gotten pulled into a murder investigation in Marbleglen last month. She hadn’t come to like Molly over that time, per se, but she’d respected the woman’s tenacity for finding out the truth. That tenacity was just … a lot when it was aimed directly at you. “I didn’t persuade her to do anything; I was just as shocked as anyone when I found out she’d left me the store.”

  “Did you choose to work here because Janice didn’t have any living relatives?” Molly asked, running a finger along one of the pyramid-shaped bookshelves. “Like how young busty women ‘fall in love’ and marry old rich men with one foot in the grave? Grandpa drops dead and then Candy gets a mansion?”

  Amber gaped at her.

  A man nearby coughed in an effort to cover up a laugh and quickly walked away.

  What on earth did Connor see in her? Amber had to assume Molly had a nice side. Amber had yet to see it.

  Amber crossed her arms, taking on a stance that she had no doubt mirrored Willow’s from earlier. “Is there a destination for this very rude line of questioning?”

  Molly shrugged. “Just making conversation. I’m sure your parents would be proud of all you’ve accomplished over the years.” She picked up the horse Connor had been eyeing earlier. “The way you’ve honed your skills in such a unique way, you know?”

  Connor, sans Willow, reappeared then. He held up a bag with The Quirky Whisker logo on the front. The bespectacled top-hat-wearing cat winked at Amber. “Got a really good selection.”

  Molly put the toy back. “Nice talking to you, Amber.”

  Connor led the way out the door. Willow joined Amber a few seconds later, and they watched as the pair walked past the front windows of the shop. They were headed in the opposite direction of the restaurants on Russian Blue Avenue, as well as the parking lot. Molly was speaking a mile a minute while Connor listened intently. Neither one glanced back.

  “What was that about?” Willow asked once they were out of view.

  “I have no clue.”

  Chapter 2

  There were only six full days left until the Here and Meow, and even though Amber had participated in this annual festival many times over, it always managed to sneak up on her. One day her feline-obsessed town had only a few tourists wandering its streets, and the next, shops, parks, and hotels were bustling with people who had flocked to the town to participate in the three days of festivities.

  As usual during the week before the Here and Meow, Amber was fast at work increasing her inventory of animated toys. The three days of the festival marked her largest sale days of the year. New customers discovered her unique creations at her booth in the fairgrounds, but longtime fans of her toys often dropped by—or placed advanced orders—for one of her new or festival-exclusive models.

  This year, the exclusive offering had been inspired by the rustic spring aesthetic of the Hair Ball gala two months ago. Amber planned to craft hundreds of little plastic flower garlands to adorn the heads and necks of the animated cat toys. There would also be a limited number of cats with pastel-colored “fur.” The lavender-colored cats were an early favorite; she had yet to find a sea foam green paint that didn’t make the poor cat look as if it were suffering from a bout of seasickness.

  Seated now around the dining room table in her apartment, Amber, Willow, and Aunt Gretchen were all working on various stages of the cat-making process. Aunt Gretchen used a fine-grain sandpaper to smooth the rough edges of a daunting pile of curved plastic cat tails. Willow, with her tongue caught between her teeth, painstakingly assembled the tiny wreaths of flowers.

  And Amber, her grimoire open on the table, enchanted plastic disc after plastic disc with a “sit” spell. The discs were no larger than a dime. They looked like the tiddlywinks she and Willow played with as children. The plastic discs were the heart of Amber’s toy operation. It had taken her years to find a way to create moving toys for the children of Edgehill without anyone discovering they were powered by magic instead of wires and electricity.

  Once the small discs were enchanted, the disc would be attached to the wall of the animal’s body cavity. The cat’s various parts would then be fused together, creating a seamless toy that shielded the inner workings of the toys—or lack thereof—from the prying eyes of parents suspicious about how the toys played with their children for hours on end without the need to replace the batteries.

  The stack of tiny discs to Amber’s left—the unspelled batch—was a few inches tall. The one to her right had at least fifty in it. Her mouth was dry from uttering the “sit” spell so often.

  Though the Blackwood women had magic at their disposal, the three witches were limited in how much magic they could use on the toys. Willow was gifted in glamour spells, which altered the appearance of an object. Or, in some instances, altered a viewer’s perceived image of a thing. She could easily utter a spell to have an assembled, unpainted cat turn any color she wished. The very daunting pile of tiny wreath parts lying on the table in front of her could all be fully assembled and awash in a riot of color with the right series of incantations.

  But spells faded eventually, and glamours were often the first to go. Some Edgehill parents were already a little wary of the curious toys that came out of The Quirky Whisker. If the toys suddenly were leached of all their color and their accessories fell to literal pieces in the middle of a play session, Amber would have a hard
time explaining that away.

  After adding a spell to yet another disc, Amber sat back in her chair and stretched. She excused herself from the table and grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, then drank it as she stared out the largest window in her tiny studio apartment. The window overlooked Russian Blue Avenue, and she admired the soft early morning colors of the sunrise. Ever since Amber’s altercation with a cursed Penhallow witch a few months back, her ability to sleep through the night had become hit-or-miss. Though it was getting better, some days were harder than others, today being one of them.

  Jack hadn’t stayed the previous night, so his steady presence hadn’t kept the nightmares at bay. She knew she couldn’t use Jack as a crutch forever; she’d have to find a way to calm her restless worries on her own.

  Until then, there would be lots of insomnia combatted with caffeine.

  The bonus to so many sleepless nights was that she could work on her toy inventory. And with her family here, they would help make sure it all got done in time. Daisy and Lily Bowen were scheduled to man the shop for the morning, which would help, too. When the ladies’ shift ended at noon, Amber would take over to run the shop with Ben—the same Ben who had been awarded the prestigious title of “best designer” in the Best of Edgehill competition at the Hair Ball. He had been selected to design all the swag for this year’s Here and Meow, as well as the commemorative pin that attendees could win if they completed a scavenger hunt by the end of the weekend.

  Ben had finished his designs weeks ago, and now was waiting anxiously for the swag and pins to arrive so he could see what his art looked like once commercialized. According to Kimberly Jones, the Here and Meow’s festival director, a sample box of swag had shown up at her door yesterday. Kim had called Amber late last night to do an over-the-phone unboxing. Amber had tried to explain that a video unboxing would have made more sense, but Kim had been so excited, Amber couldn’t get a word in edgewise around all Kim’s exclamations of “Shut the front door; this is amazing!” and “Oh holy smokes, this Ben kid is a genius!” and just flat-out squealing.

  Kim had proven during the preparation for the Hair Ball, she could become … unglued … once faced with stress and pressure. So if she wanted to call to flail about things Amber couldn’t even see, Amber wasn’t going to rain on her parade. An excited Kim was better than Kim the Galazilla any day.

  Amber wrinkled her nose at the thought of parades. Today being Saturday, she would have to head over to the float barn later this afternoon in the mostly odious town of Marbleglen to help with the finishing touches on the floats. The floats were the stars of the Edgehill-Marbleglen parade that would be the kickoff to both towns’ festivals in a week.

  So much to do. So little time to do it.

  With a sigh, she got back to work.

  After Aunt Gretchen made sandwiches for Amber and Willow, they had a pleasant lunch together where they only teased Amber about Jack once each. Then Amber hurried downstairs to prep the shop for the afternoon rush.

  The Bowen sisters had mostly cleaned up before they’d hurried off to their own lunch, but a small section filled with non-animated toys in the back of the shop was in disarray. Amber was in the middle of straightening up when someone knocked on the front door.

  Amber stood and eyed Russian Blue Avenue beyond the glass wall of windows, the street clogged with wandering tourists. Across the street, a long line snaked out the front door of Purrfectly Scrumptious, the bakery run by Betty and Bobby Harris, and continued down the street beyond what Amber could see from her current vantage point. A small cluster of kids were crouched on the sidewalk across the street. Even though Amber couldn’t see her, she knew the children were fussing over Savannah, the shop cat who belonged to the Harrises.

  Savannah was a gorgeous white and gray Maine coon who was just as much of a fixture of Purrfectly Scrumptious as Betty’s legendary cupcakes.

  The bakery had won Best of Edgehill in the treat category during the Hair Ball, and as a result, business at the bakery had skyrocketed nearly overnight. Betty was in her sixties and had been apprehensive about even entering the competition, concerned that she was somehow too old for her business to be taken to the next level. Amber couldn’t have been happier for the Harrises’ well-deserved success.

  And, given the two women in Purrfectly Scrumptious aprons who were armed with clipboards and were taking down orders from people in line, it looked like the Harrises had finally hired help, too.

  The knock sounded again. Amber found Kimberly Jones at the front door with a large tote bag hung from her shoulder. Smiling, Amber quickly unlocked and pulled open the door, the bell above it tinkling.

  “Are you open yet?” someone from outside called.

  “About fifteen more minutes,” Amber said as Kim rushed in.

  Once the door was locked again, Kim, who had practically flung herself backward over the counter, said, “Oh my God, Amber, they’re like vultures!”

  Amber stifled a laugh.

  “They practically clawed at me while I stood at your door!” Kim said. “Wait. No. They’re not vultures. They’re worse than that. They’re zombies with a hankering for human flesh!”

  Amber snorted.

  “Anyway!” Kim said, heaving out a long, loud breath. She plopped the tote bag on the counter. “I have goodies!”

  Amber rounded the counter so she stood on the register side, with Kim on the other, and watched as Kim pulled out window decal stickers, lanyard strings, a stack of bingo cards, and a small handful of pins.

  “Oh wow,” Amber said, picking up the pin. “These turned out great!”

  “Right?” Kim said.

  The pin was about an inch square and shaped like a cat’s face. But instead of mere lines and shapes, the face had been constructed with the names of each Best of Edgehill business and owner. The window decals for the winning businesses were standard postcard size and had twelve hand-drawn buildings running along the length. The detail in each storefront was remarkable, especially in such a small space. Amber had always envied an artist’s ability to take something from the world around them and recreate it based on their own unique vision. “Here and Meow Festival” was written on the right side, the words hovering in the sky above the buildings, and a bright yellow starburst, like a sun, hung in the sky on the right, with a “Best of Edgehill Business!” stamped in the middle.

  And to top it all off, on sidewalks, in windows, and on roofs were cats. Lounging, sleeping, playing. Ben’s designs were so quintessentially Edgehill that Amber had to fight the urge to hug the decal to her chest. She was a little jealous of all the businesses which got to affix one to their shopfront windows.

  “Are these the final product?” Amber asked.

  “Yep. Finally. There have been roughly nine billion printer malfunctions on their end. I can’t believe how close they cut it. We can make minor requests for changes, mostly because they’re relatively local, but if we do want changes, we have to let them know by tonight, especially since they’re closed on Sunday. And I’ll have to pick up the new materials in person. With less than a week left before the big day,” Kim said, then furiously rubbed at her forehead. “It’s fine. I’m sure everything is fine. Is Ben going to be here soon?”

  The bell above the shop door chimed as Ben let himself in.

  “Speak of the devil,” Amber said.

  Ben had just pulled an earbud out, his brow creased. A question was clearly on the way out of his mouth but then he saw what was on the counter in front of Kim. Voice shaky, he said, “Is that … are those …”

  “Sure is! Come look!” Kim said.

  As the two gushed over the swag, Amber headed for the front door to flip sign to “open,” giving the ravenous zombies the go-ahead to come inside. As Amber pulled open the door, she smiled at the woman she’d spoken to earlier. A line of tourists poured in after her, the shop’s wooden floors creaking underfoot.

  Amber had just let the door go, making her way toward a man who
attempted to get something off a high shelf, when the door flew open behind her with such force, the bell above it was nearly knocked loose. A woman stood in the doorway, chest heaving. She held fast to the hand of a weeping little boy.

  “What kind of racket are you running here, Amber Blackwood?”

  Amber blinked at her. She recognized her as a resident of Edgehill, though Amber didn’t know her personally. Despite the fact that this was a small town, Amber had kept herself relatively isolated here until recently. Amber was almost positive her name started with an S.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah, but—”

  “My name is Sally!” Sally snapped, then stomped a foot for good measure. Her crying son wept harder.

  Right. That was her name. Sally Long.

  Everyone in the shop had stilled. Even Kim and Ben had been shocked out of their gushing over the newly arrived festival goodies.

  The only sound came from the soft whimpering of the little boy whose arm was hoisted in the air by his mother. Amber wondered if the weeping was due to how tightly the woman held him.

  Quickly glancing around, her face hot, Amber took a step forward. “I’m sorry, but what seems to be the problem?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

  “The problem?” Sally let the boy go so she could root around in her large brown leather purse and produce a mangled toy bear. She thrust it at Amber.

  Startled, Amber instinctively grabbed hold of it. The whole front half of the toy bear was a blackened, melted mess, as if someone had taken an open flame to it. The back half looked perfectly intact, which somehow made the destruction done to the bear’s face even more upsetting. Amber turned it so she could see into the gaping hole where the bear’s hollow stomach had once been. From what she could tell, all the magic-fueled discs inside the bear had melted along with its face.

  Had the spells malfunctioned?

  Amber’s chest constricted at the thought that this little boy’s tears might be her fault.