A Hint of Magic
Authors: Alaine Allister
A HINT OF MAGIC
Alaine Allister
Copyright © 2016 A. Allister
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events depicted are products of the author’s imagination. The cover is for illustrative purposes only. All rights reserved.
Clarissa Spencer is a workaholic, a chocaholic and a slave to her cat. The novice witch is also Very Bad at Casting Spells. She needs a break! But when the ambitious journalist attends a costume party in her hometown, her life gets even crazier.
First, she’s forced to deal with some old high school foes. Then she and handsome Parker Tweed witness a confrontation that turns deadly!
Can Clarissa solve the murder
and
manage a walk down memory lane without stumbling? Or will she wind up hiding under her desk with a box of chocolate chip cookies?
TABLE OF CONTENTS
“Are you all ready for Halloween?”
Clarissa Spencer raised an eyebrow and gave her best friend an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to think about it. I barely even remembered to put on pants before I left the house this morning.”
“That would have given the locals here
years
of gossip,” Liana grinned. She took a sip of coffee and then set her cup aside. “I suppose I should feel honored that you met me for coffee, huh?”
“You should
always
feel honored to spend time with me,” Clarissa quipped with a smirk and a playful toss of her long dark hair.
Liana made a big show of scoffing over that. “You’re so modest,” she declared with a dramatic roll of her eyes. She paused then, leaned forward on her elbows and scrutinized Clarissa. “You look tired.”
“Gee, thanks,” Clarissa replied sarcastically. But she knew Liana was right. These days she was averaging about four hours of sleep per night, if that. Her normally bright blue-green eyes were bloodshot and she kind of felt like a walking zombie. It wasn’t a good look.
“It’s nothing a little coffee can’t fix,” Liana assured her.
“You think coffee fixes
everything
,” Clarissa reminded her.
“Maybe it does,” Liana shrugged. As if to prove her point, she downed the rest of her coffee in one long, greedy gulp. Then she drummed her fingertips relentlessly against the tabletop, obviously bursting with pent-up energy.
Clarissa didn’t understand how Liana wasn’t a jittery mess given all the caffeine she consumed on a daily basis! Then again, Clarissa probably got her fair share of caffeine as well. The only difference was that she preferred to get hers from chocolate. Yum!
Liana cleared her throat as though she was about to make a Very Important Declaration. Then she said, “I know you’re crazy busy running a newspaper empire but you’re still coming to my Halloween party this weekend, right?”
“Have I ever missed it? And I wouldn’t exactly call it a newspaper empire,” Clarissa corrected her best friend. “I write mostly fluff pieces for a small town publication. It’s not exactly groundbreaking stuff. The last article I wrote was about a muffin bake-off.”
“Ha, only in Sugarcomb Lake,” Liana giggled, speaking fondly of their quaint, sleepy hometown. “But give yourself some credit! You’re singlehandedly operating the only newspaper in town. That’s no small feat – which is why I suppose I should give you a pass on the bags under your eyes.”
“I don’t have bags under my eyes,” Clarissa said defensively. She grabbed a spoon off the table and peered into it. When she saw her reflection, she knew there was no point in arguing. “Okay fine,” she sighed in defeat. “I have bags under my eyes.”
“You need to let loose and have a little fun!” Liana announced. “My Halloween party is exactly what the doctor ordered. And it goes without saying it’s going to be a costume party, as usual. What are you dressing up as?” she asked eagerly.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Clarissa’s mind was a million miles away. “Can I go as myself?”
“No!” Liana huffed.
“Okay, well I’ll think of something.”
“What’s got you so distracted?” Liana asked curiously. “Is it a guy? Who is it? Ooh, I bet I know who it is,” she trilled in a singsong voice. “Clarissa and Parker, sitting in a tree –”
“Shh! Are you
trying
to make a scene?” Clarissa hissed, unamused by her best friend’s silly theory. Then she pursed her full lips in an expression of annoyance. “For your information I am not thinking about a guy – and certainly not Parker. If you must know, I’m actually thinking about work.”
“Well stop!” Liana ordered, blowing a lock of blonde hair out of her face and wrinkling her button nose in dismay. “I’d much rather gossip than listen to you obsess over work. But speaking of newspapers, what ever happened with Mr. Reporter Guy?”
Clarissa felt her face redden at the mention of Parker Tweed, a very charismatic, very handsome reporter whose father owned The Green City Chronicle. “Nothing happened with him,” she replied, averting her eyes. “We went out to dinner a month or so ago, that’s all.”
“And…?” Liana pressed, unwilling to let it go. “I can’t believe it’s been that long since we’ve talked. Tell me everything and spare no detail.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“What do you mean? Of course there is! How was dinner? What did you two talk about? Was there flirting? Was there a goodnight kiss? Why hasn’t there been another date?”
Clarissa shrugged.
“Did something mortifying happen?!” Liana gasped, wringing her hands in dismay. “Oh no, you two didn’t get caught up on that dumb professional rivalry of yours again, did you? If you ruined your chances with Parker I will be
so angry
. You two are perfect for each other!”
“Dinner was fine. I just got busy, that’s all. And I presume Parker is busy too. Did I mention he’s planning to take over the Chronicle when his father retires next year? Parker is the one running a newspaper empire, not me.”
Liana was hanging on her every word. “Was there a kiss goodnight?” she demanded again.
Clarissa chose to ignore the question rather than admit that there had been no kiss. She leaned down and reached for her purse, which was sitting beside her foot. “Speaking of newspapers, I should be going. Mine isn’t going to publish itself.”
“Stop doing that,” Liana commanded.
“Doing what?”
“You’re deflecting. You’re hiding behind work again,” Liana observed. “Even workaholics need breaks, you know. Actually, workaholics probably need breaks more than anyone!”
“Duly noted,” Clarissa said, sliding out of the coffee shop booth. “I’ll take a break the night of your Halloween party,” she promised. “Do you want me to bring anything?”
“No. Just try to remember to wear pants,” Liana smirked.
“I make no promises,” Clarissa joked. “I wish I could stay and chat, but duty calls.”
“I know. Go write the best darn muffin bake-off article the world has ever seen!”
“Ha. See you Saturday night.”
“Remember, wear pants!” Liana called loudly as Clarissa walked out of the coffee shop.
That comment earned Clarissa a few amused looks from people within earshot.
It also earned her a couple sneers of disdain from two middle aged women who Clarissa had secretly dubbed The Local Pearl Clutchers. They managed to get worked up into a tizzy over everything and everything. In fact, it was a wonder their tongues hadn’t seized up yet from being clucked so much.
She shrugged the contemptuous looks off and continued on her way.
As Clarissa walked to her car, she pulled the collar of her jacket up. She wished she had thought to wear a scarf. Autumn was now in full swing and the temperature reflected it. There could be snow any day now. That was simply the harsh reality of living in Sugarcomb Lake, a town that without question experienced all four seasons.
“I should have parked closer,” she grumbled to herself as she tried to walk faster.
She’d had the bright idea of parking around the block in an effort to squeeze some exercise into her day. Life as a newspaper reporter hadn’t exactly helped her get in shape.
Neither had covering the muffin bake-off, where each contestant had practically insisted she sample their creations. Refusing would have been rude!
Leaves crunched satisfyingly under Clarissa’s brown suede boots as she hurried to her car. The trees were all bare now, but their nakedness was hidden by ghosts fashioned out of old white bed sheets. It was an art project the schoolkids from Sugarcomb Elementary did every year.
The local volunteer firefighters had hung the ghosts from the highest tree branches, stringing little orange pumpkin lights up alongside them. Clarissa knew because she had been there, covering the local “news” for her paper.
She had, however, declined the offer to go up in the firetruck bucket to hang a ghost herself. Were they crazy? Heights were
not
her thing!
Suddenly Clarissa’s purse started ringing.
Well, to be more accurate, the phone inside her purse started ringing.
She stopped right there on the sidewalk and rummaged around until she found it.
“Hello?”
“Hi!” a familiar female voice replied. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for dinner tomorrow night. I’m thinking I’ll try a new enchilada recipe I found. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great,” Clarissa assured her young, quirky aunt. “Can I bring something?”
“Nope, I’ve got it under control,” Matilda replied.
“What about dessert?” Clarissa asked. “There can never be too much dessert.”
“You sound like you’re related to me,” Matilda laughed.
“I
am
related to you,” Clarissa reminded her. “Do you have any dessert requests?”
“Hmm, well you can’t go wrong with chocolate.”
“That’s very true,” Clarissa agreed, thinking to herself that now there was no question that she and Matilda were related. “I’ll bring something chocolatey and delicious,” she promised, her mouth watering at the thought. “See you tomorrow night.”
Clarissa was a woman with many talents.
She had inherited her mother’s green thumb and, when she put in the time and effort, was able to keep her garden looking pretty spectacular. She had done well at college and had thrived in her career as a journalist right from the start. And there weren’t many people who could say they had started their own newspaper before the age of thirty.
One thing Clarissa couldn’t seem to get the hang of, however, was baking.
She blamed it on her inability to follow recipes. She supposed she simply didn’t like to follow directions. She always inadvertently got something wrong. It had ended in culinary disaster on more than one occasion.
But that was okay.
Different people had different talents. If Clarissa wasn’t into cooking, that was fine. That was what bakeries were for. And as luck would have it, she was only a short walk from the bakery on Main Street. If that wasn’t a sign that she should buy dessert, she didn’t know what was.
As usual, Clarissa smelled the bakery before she saw it. It always smelled so delicious, like cinnamon and brown sugar. The sticky buns there were to die for, and the cupcakes were like majestic little masterpieces. But the real winners were the chocolate chip cookies. Mmm!
There was no way Clarissa could go into that bakery without indulging in the cookies. Chocolate chip cookies were her weakness!
“Hi Clarissa,” the bakery owner greeted her. “What can I get for you today?”
Was it a bad sign that she and the bakery owner were on a first name basis? Clarissa tried to tell herself it was because Sugarcomb Lake was a small town where everyone basically knew everyone else. It was far easier to believe that than face the harsh reality that perhaps she frequented the bakery a bit too often.
“Those look amazing!” Clarissa declared, pointing to the chocolate croissants in the display case. “Could I get half a dozen, please? Oh, and my usual box of chocolate chip cookies,” she added, her face reddening.
“Have you tried our pumpkin bread? We just started making it at the beginning of October.”
“Is that what smells so good?” Clarissa asked, taking a deep, appreciative breath.
“I’ll pack up a sample for you,” the owner winked. “I’ll throw in some gingersnaps too.”
“You’re the best,” Clarissa said gratefully. “Well, maybe my butt will disagree once I’m no longer able to squeeze it into my pants, but whatever.” She pulled some cash out of her purse and handed it over. “Keep the change.”
A moment later, Clarissa left the bakery with no less than four boxes stacked one on top of the other. She could barely even see over the top! But it was okay because her car was nearby. That was the nice thing about living in a small town: everything was more or less nearby.
Eager to get out of the cold, Clarissa put her head down and hurried toward her destination. She was also eager to get home and get some more work done. She began making mental notes about all the things she had to do.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she was very startled when she heard her name.
“Clarissa?”
It was tough to see over the top of the boxes, but Clarissa didn’t need to see. She would recognize that deep, masculine voice anywhere. When she realized it was Parker Tweed, she jumped for some inexplicable reason.
“Whoa, careful,” Parker said, reaching out to steady her – and the boxes she held.
“Thanks,” she said gratefully, feeling her face heat up.
When she got a look at Parker, her first thought was that he was every bit as handsome as she remembered. The big city news reporter was always well dressed and put together. With his blonde hair, broad shoulders and sparkling blue eyes, he looked like he could be a movie star.