Chapter 1

I hurried down the stairs, taking care not to trip on my long skirt, and rushed across the cottage. Someone was knocking on the front door. I opened it to find Blind Willie Haggerty and Lucy O’Shea standing there with overflowing baskets in hand.

“Blessed be, Morgan. We come bearing gifts.” Lucy’s smile was big and bright, although a bit of the usual sparkle was missing from her eyes.

I opened the door wider and let them in. “What are you two doing here?”

“Just told you,” Willie replied in his charmingly gruff manner, “we’re bearing gifts.” He stomped the snow off his big boots, then kissed my cheek as he entered.

“We wanted to make sure you had enough to eat.” Lucy set her boots on the shoe tray by the door, then strode straight to the kitchen with her package. “It’s been almost a week since our last delivery.”

“And we wanted to check on your patient. How’s she doing today?” Willie kicked off his boots and placed them next to Lucy’s then followed her path.

I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders and glanced up at the second floor where our bedrooms were. My heart was heavy but growing a little lighter each day.

“She’s sleeping now but has been taking fewer, shorter naps this week. She had a pine needle bath a little while ago so is quite content.” At Willie’s confused expression, I laughed. A hearty, endorphin-releasing guffaw. When was the last time I’d laughed like that? “I toss a cheesecloth sachet of pine needles, Epsom salts, oatmeal, and a few drops of cypress essential oil into the tub and let it steep while she soaks.”

“What’s all that do?” He stoked the fire in the kitchen hearth.

“It performs a bit of nature magic. The Epsom salts help with achy muscles. Oatmeal soothes itchy skin.”

“And we all know the benefits of pine,” Lucy added while pulling a container from the basket.

We did know. Our village was surrounded by a pine forest, after all.

“The scent of pine,” I explained, “clears sinuses and bronchial passages. It helps with circulation. And especially beneficial for Mama, it aids in mental clarity.”

A little more than a month ago, Mama had a stroke. Thank the Goddess it was a minor one.

“It’s unlikely she’ll return to one hundred percent,” her doctor cautioned after a few days of observations. “Her speech will get better, but it could be slower and a bit garbled from now on. Other than that, if things continue as they have, I expect her to have a full, satisfying life. Her strength should return to near normal, although she may need a nap now and then.”

“Don’t we all?” I joked, scared to death.

While Lucy prepared a plate and mug of tea for me, she asked, “When did you last eat? As in a meal. Not just a handful of something as you flit about.” She was always worried about people having enough food.

I let Willie usher me to our small round dining table by the fireplace. When I dropped onto a chair, my body was instantly grateful for the rest. “Mama wanted butternut squash soup, so I made some for dinner last night.”

It took nearly an hour for her to finish the bowl, but she had been able to take small sips and declared it delicious.

“Did you remember to add an apple for a bit more depth?” Lucy set the plate in front of me.

“Of course.” I picked up my fork, and my mouth watered as I gazed down at roasted winter vegetables and something that looked like meatloaf. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Nut roast,” Willie declared. “Lentils, mushrooms, cheddar cheese, a bunch of different veggies, and seasonings . . .”

I smiled at him. “You sound familiar with this recipe.”

He puffed out his chest. “Thinking it’ll be my contribution to the Yule gathering next week. I brought you a whole loaf, so you’ll have a few meals covered. You can also tell me if you think it’s good enough.”

“You’ve got a nice variety here from the villagers.” Taking items out of the baskets, Lucy detailed what else I had to look forward to. “Scones and granola from Sugar. Gingerbread cookies from Honey. Mince pie, hard-boiled eggs, and chia pudding from Wesley. Assorted nuts, a couple big hunks of cheese, dried fruit, fresh fruit, and cut up veggies from Peyton and the gang at Sundry. I made buttermilk bread and lentil salad. There’s also a small jug of Willie’s cider and another of Maeve’s Wassail. Go easy on those last two. They pack a punch, and you’ve got a patient to keep an eye on.”

“Good goddess,” I said through a laugh. “That’s enough to feed us for a month.”

“It sounds like a lot, but it’s just a bit of this and a bit of that.”

“Remember,” Willie reminded me, “you’re supposed to call us when you need a break.”

“I know and I will.”

“I haven’t received a phone call yet.” He crossed his arms and pouted.

I had the best friends and neighbors. Starting the day of the stroke, they made sure I had plenty to eat even though I didn’t have much of an appetite at first. Someone stopped by every day so I could take a bath or lie down for a few minutes without worrying Mama would need something. And then there was Willow.

“Don’t even think about the shop,” our irreplaceable attendant, and my dear friend, had said. “Your only concern right now is nursing Briar back to health. I’ve got everything under control there.”

She started working with me and Mama at Shoppe Mystique a couple years after we graduated high school. Her aunt had passed on to Summerland, and Willow needed both money and something to keep her busy. She started with a few shifts but by the end of her first summer season she’d become the perfect full-time shop assistant. Not only was she great with the customers, she knew almost as much as Mama and I did about herbs, crystals, spells, and so on.

I placed a forkful of nut roast in my mouth, and my body relaxed even more. Savory, stick-to-your-ribs goodness. And so satisfying. Like getting a hug from someone you dearly loved.

“Surprisingly fantastic, Willie.” I winked at him. “You really are a good cook.”

His eyes misted over for a moment, then he gave a little smile.

I added, “I’m so glad I was wrong about you all those years ago.”

“Wrong about him?” Lucy set three mugs of tea on the table. “What happened years ago? I’m missing something.”

I gazed longingly from my forkful to her and back.

“It’ll be a story,” Lucy concluded from my reaction. She picked up one of the mugs again. “Tell you what, I’m going to run upstairs and take a peek at my girl. You eat.”

My girl. Mama and my grandmother were the first two people to join the O’Shea family here in Whispering Pines. Nana and Lucy had been the closest of friends, and since Mama was the same age as Lucy’s Dillon, Mama had always been like a daughter to her.

I was almost done with my meal when Lucy came back downstairs ten minutes later, wiping her eyes. She looked sad but brighter than she had the last time she’d seen my mother.

“She was sleeping soundly,” Lucy reported, “so I didn’t wake her. Just watched her sleep.”

I did the same thing. Completely content to sit there and watch her chest rise and fall.

“You absolutely need to bring this to the gathering,” I told Willie when I’d eaten the last bite of nut roast. “And I’d like the recipe, please.”

After refilling our mugs, Lucy asked, “Are you ready to tell me what you were wrong about?”

“Can I tell the whole thing?” I asked Willie.

“She already knows the big reveal at the end. Go ahead.”

“It was three days before Yule, and I was fifteen years old . . .”