Girl's Guide to Witchcraft by Mindy Klasky Page A

heard the vehemence in my tone, because she didn’t even try to argue. Instead, she struck off down the street, leading the way to the canal towpath that formed the shortcut to Cake Walk.
    Melissa made short work of the walk. Opening up her back door, she slung her yoga mat into the corner and dug in a drawer until she came up with kitchen shears. She waved me toward a tangle of potted herbs in the tiny side yard, and I found the mint without any problem. Ah, sweet therapy. If the mojitos didn’t work their magic, we might have to move up to the big guns: deep-dish pizza, with pepperoni and black olives. That would still leave Ben & Jerry’s in reserve with its pints of last-ditch salvation.
    Breathing deeply of the fresh-cut mint, I returned to the bakery. Melissa was setting a gigantic net bag of limes on the counter. “You’ve got sugar?”
    “Yep.” I felt proud of myself. I was just like a regular homeowner.
    “And rum?” She glanced dubiously at her cooking supplies; she kept rum for the Devil’s Nips that she made when she was feeling particularly devious. I swallowed hard; I could taste those liquored-up chocolate truffles now.
    “I’ve got half a bottle at home. That should be enough.”
    “Should be?” She arched a bemused eyebrow. I wish that I could arch an eyebrow. I wasn’t certain I could harness “bemused” for any amount of money. “Sounds like some serious therapy you’re contemplating.”
    “You don’t know the half of it.”
    She nodded and wrapped the mint in a paper towel, adding it to the limes in a tote bag. She glanced around the kitchen and started to turn off the light, but then she shook her head and turned back to the industrial-size refrigerator.
    She pulled out one of her heavy pottery serving plates and set it on the counter. When I glimpsed the treasures beneath the plastic wrap, I felt a warm flush of joy. Melissa did understand how serious this was.
    “Almond Lust!”
    “Only the best for you,” she said. I loved the shortbread concoction, and my mouth watered at the thought of the rich chewy caramel and dark Valrhona chocolate that cradled sliced almonds. I started to lift the corner of the plastic wrap, but Melissa playfully slapped my hand away. “Patience!”
    “But there are three bars!”
    “One for each of us, and one for Neko, right?”
    Neko. Well, that was one thing to be said for my grandmother’s informational bomb. It had driven all thoughts of the strange cat-man out of my head. Thoughts of my, um, familiar came spiraling back, and I wondered how I could have forgotten about my life as a witch so quickly.
    “Right,” I said. Suddenly those mojitos sounded medically necessary.
    It didn’t take us long to walk to the Peabridge. I was glad that the library was closed when we passed by—there was no need for anyone there to see me in workout clothes, carrying my bedraggled yoga mat and the makings of tropical drinks. I started to dig in my bag for my keys, but the door swung open before I could find them.
    “Good evening,” Neko said, and he bowed to Melissa and me. My ingrained manners took over enough for me to introduce them. Melissa shot me a sharp look as I turned toward the kitchen.
    I knew that expression. She was sizing up Neko for a spot on the First Date roster. Oh, girlfriend, I almost said out loud. You are going to be so disappointed. There was more to Neko than the tautly muscled torso carved beneath his black T-shirt, more than the exotic slant of his eyes beneath the oh-so-touchable buzz of his hair. So much more, but we women weren’t going to see any of it. Not that there was anything wrong with that.
    I glanced toward my bedroom door, but it looked untouched. It seemed like a second safe day for Stupid Fish. At least, I could hope so.
    As Melissa and Neko traded pleasantries, I marched into the kitchen and got straight to work. I opened the left cabinet and reached for the rum on the top shelf. Not there. I checked the middle