magical cures 06.5 - a charming christmas Read Online Free
Author: tonya kappes
hand over the stress display tablecloth and tugged at the edge to get out any wrinkles before I walked to the back of the shop and flipped on my cauldron behind the partition. It was a good covering to hide my biggest secret. If customers saw me tossing things in the big pot, they would know our village secret and that wasn’t something we wanted to get out.
Madame Torres hummed from the bottom of my bag, reminding me she was still in there. I hung the bag on the stool behind the counter and dug to the bottom, pulling her out.
“I get it.” I smiled, bringing her face to face with me. “I’m getting into the spirit. Little did you know that before you, I celebrated Christmas and we decorated every year and gave out presents. Whispering Falls is behind the times.”
Her ball glowed a winter white. Her face appeared, taking up the space. Her standard brightly colored face with fire engine red lips and purple eye shadow had been replaced with cream lips and green eye shadow with her usual black eyeliner, which she never went without. Her cheeks were still red. I wondered who gave her makeup tips, but I didn’t ask. There was no way I was going to ruin her holiday cheery disposition.
“Tell me about it,” Madame Torres begged when I put her down on the counter. Mr. Prince Charming jumped up on the counter next to her, curling his tail around her.
“Look at you two getting along.” I smiled seeing my familiars happy for once. “Anyway, Darla,” I referred to my mother (who liked me to call her by her name), “loved Christmas. We weren’t able to afford much, but she still made it special.” I continued to tell them about how Darla made Christmas special.
Darla was the sole proprietor of A Dose of Darla, a booth in the flea market. She was good at homeopathic cures that were made up of herbs. Only she didn’t have the gift of intuition—knowing and making extra special potions to go in the cure like my father and me. This was where some would call us witches, while we called ourselves spiritualists. Regardless, Darla would barter with other flea market booth owners, trading cures for items I might want. Most of the time I wanted what the typical girls in my grade wanted. Things like makeup, the latest doll, or even a purse. Darla would get me a doll, only it wouldn’t be the American Girl doll—it was the international (made in China) doll made up of hard plastic and clothes painted on the body. It was okay though. We still had fun with our homemade decorations.
The knock on the shop door stopped me. The willowy woman from the tea shop frantically waved in the window. The clock on the wall told me she was five minutes early.
“It was more about the spirit of the season than the presents,” I said to Madame Torres and Mr. Prince Charming and walked over to the door, unlocking it.
“There was no need to wait any longer out in that cold weather.” The woman pushed her way into the shop. I flipped the sign on the door to open. I might as well. “I figured I’d come see what you have to offer.” She picked up a bottle from the stress table, plucked the cork top and took a long sniff.
“I’m so glad you are here.” I clasped my hands together. “My understanding is that you are somewhat stressed about the holidays?”
“Yes.” A long sigh left her body. She stuck the cork back in the bottle. “I’ll take this one.”
“This one is perfect.” I took the red glass bottle with the small chain around the neck. There was a gold heart attached to the chain. “I need to mix it really good, so help yourself to some of the apple cider, unless you had enough tea at The Gathering Grove.”
The woman casually waltzed over to the bubbling cider, eyeing the content while I walked behind the partition, dumping the contents of the bottle into the cauldron.
The red bottle glowed, letting me know it was the right pick for her. That was how the potions or homeopathic cures, whatever you wanted to call them,
Madame Torres hummed from the bottom of my bag, reminding me she was still in there. I hung the bag on the stool behind the counter and dug to the bottom, pulling her out.
“I get it.” I smiled, bringing her face to face with me. “I’m getting into the spirit. Little did you know that before you, I celebrated Christmas and we decorated every year and gave out presents. Whispering Falls is behind the times.”
Her ball glowed a winter white. Her face appeared, taking up the space. Her standard brightly colored face with fire engine red lips and purple eye shadow had been replaced with cream lips and green eye shadow with her usual black eyeliner, which she never went without. Her cheeks were still red. I wondered who gave her makeup tips, but I didn’t ask. There was no way I was going to ruin her holiday cheery disposition.
“Tell me about it,” Madame Torres begged when I put her down on the counter. Mr. Prince Charming jumped up on the counter next to her, curling his tail around her.
“Look at you two getting along.” I smiled seeing my familiars happy for once. “Anyway, Darla,” I referred to my mother (who liked me to call her by her name), “loved Christmas. We weren’t able to afford much, but she still made it special.” I continued to tell them about how Darla made Christmas special.
Darla was the sole proprietor of A Dose of Darla, a booth in the flea market. She was good at homeopathic cures that were made up of herbs. Only she didn’t have the gift of intuition—knowing and making extra special potions to go in the cure like my father and me. This was where some would call us witches, while we called ourselves spiritualists. Regardless, Darla would barter with other flea market booth owners, trading cures for items I might want. Most of the time I wanted what the typical girls in my grade wanted. Things like makeup, the latest doll, or even a purse. Darla would get me a doll, only it wouldn’t be the American Girl doll—it was the international (made in China) doll made up of hard plastic and clothes painted on the body. It was okay though. We still had fun with our homemade decorations.
The knock on the shop door stopped me. The willowy woman from the tea shop frantically waved in the window. The clock on the wall told me she was five minutes early.
“It was more about the spirit of the season than the presents,” I said to Madame Torres and Mr. Prince Charming and walked over to the door, unlocking it.
“There was no need to wait any longer out in that cold weather.” The woman pushed her way into the shop. I flipped the sign on the door to open. I might as well. “I figured I’d come see what you have to offer.” She picked up a bottle from the stress table, plucked the cork top and took a long sniff.
“I’m so glad you are here.” I clasped my hands together. “My understanding is that you are somewhat stressed about the holidays?”
“Yes.” A long sigh left her body. She stuck the cork back in the bottle. “I’ll take this one.”
“This one is perfect.” I took the red glass bottle with the small chain around the neck. There was a gold heart attached to the chain. “I need to mix it really good, so help yourself to some of the apple cider, unless you had enough tea at The Gathering Grove.”
The woman casually waltzed over to the bubbling cider, eyeing the content while I walked behind the partition, dumping the contents of the bottle into the cauldron.
The red bottle glowed, letting me know it was the right pick for her. That was how the potions or homeopathic cures, whatever you wanted to call them,
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