Can't Witch This: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife in Mosswood Book 9) by Louisa West

Author:Louisa West [West, Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Brainstorming with Declan for the remainder of the morning didn’t yield many results. Aside from having their wizard dust, there were just too many unanswered questions to piece things together.

Rosie left him at home with Maggie as she drove into town to check if there was any mail at the post office for them, thinking that at least running mundane errands would at least help her feel productive, no matter what Greta might think about the matter.

Early summer in Mosswood was a joy to behold. It was the best of spring mixed with a little spice from the sun, and Rosie found herself singing along to the car radio despite herself as she coasted along the highway and onto Main Street. Declan had known just exactly how to turn her frown upside down, reminding her with a delicious but distinctly unhealthy breakfast in bed that she just needed to dust herself off and try again.

The only thing she needed to work out was how?

The post office was literally just a tiny office that had once been some kind of small room annexed to the town hall. It had glass-paned windows on both the corners of Main and Lee streets, and the whole frontage was painted a bright, cheerful red that might have looked more at home in an English village than it did in Mosswood. But Rosie loved the tiny cramped outfit. She stepped up to the service window, her arm on the strap of her purse as she peered inside.

“Mornin’ Earl,” she called.

Nine times out of ten, if the man wasn’t in the post office service area, he was in the broom-closet-sized storage area ‘out back’. He emerged from the back door now, spectacles perched on the end of his long, thin nose, a creamy white envelope in his hands. He blinked when he looked to the shadow in his window and saw Rosie.

“Mornin’ Miss Rosie,” he said, brows raised. “One envelope for you today. Only just delivered.”

He handed the envelope straight over to her. It was an expensive paper stock, the paper woven with some kind of fancy machine. It didn’t feel like anything substantial was contained inside, which only made her feel more curious. She turned it over, noticing the tree logo embossed into the flap of the envelope.

“It’s from the bank,” Earl said, leaning forward through the service window and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper that Rosie supposed was meant to put her out of her miserable curiosity.

“Thanks,” she said, glancing up with a perfunctory smile before looking back down at the envelope. It had been addressed by hand, in lettering that was very loopy. But some of the loops were wonky, as though the person writing might not have had the steadiest of hands. “You have a great day,” she said distractedly to Earl, ripping open the envelope as she started to walk back to the car.

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