Dorianna's gaze flicked down. Then her eyes went wide. "My dress!"
She scooped it up from the carpet and stared at the smeared footprint my sneaker had left on the pristine white material. "Look at what you did!" She whirled and showed her mom the ruined dress. "Do you see what she did to my Versace?"
Tilda rose and tottered toward us on her impossibly high heels. "My Goddess!" She lifted the dress and studied the stain. She pointed at me. "You will pay to have this cleaned again." She swept her hand around the room. "And you will pick up this mess you made and pay for the carpet to be cleaned, too."
Her smarmy arrogance pulled at my self-control. I grabbed my purse and stood up on wobbly legs. My gaze traveled over the spilled coffee, the items from the general store, and then the dress being clutched and fussed over by the two women. I'm fine. Thanks for asking. I wasn't hurt physically, but emotionally, I felt wounded to the core.
Tilda frowned at me. "Did you hear me, girl?" She took the dress from her daughter and thrust it at me. "Take this back to Carol. We'll send you the bill for the carpet."
"Excuse me, am I interrupting?" came a familiar male voice from behind me.
Oh, Goddess.
"Mr. Keller!" Dorianna shoved the dress at her mother and sauntered past me, reaching out her hand to shake Ryle's. No, Reeve's?
Neither one.
He wore a gray-blue tie, and his gaze was pinned on me. Not, twins. Triplets? This one had a more intense feeling than the other two. I didn't know how to describe it, only that my entire body felt electrified.
"W-who are you?" I asked. I stepped forward not because I wanted to meet him, but because every cell of my being wanted to be near him. Touching him. Connecting with him.
What the holy hell was going on?
"Rane," he said. "I'm Rane."
Meanwhile, Dorianna tried to let the contact between their hands linger, but this guy dropped her hand like it was on fire.
"Cassandra," he said softly. He took a step toward me, too, and I thought he might reach out to take my hand.
Weird.
Dorianna smiled the way a shark might right before attacking its meal. I could tell from her expression she was displeased that not only did Rane know who I was, but he'd also used my first name. "You know our little Cassandra?"
I rolled my eyes. For the love of magic! Dorianna was my age, though she went to a private school because the Millers wouldn't send their precious heir to the local public school mixed with humans and witches.
The Millers could pretend to be as hoity-toity as they wanted. They were latecomers to Garden Grove. They'd moved into town in the early 1980s. Tilda was ambitious and driven. She and her husband had started the realty business ten years before Dorianna, their only child thank the Triple Goddess, was born.
Mr. Miller had died from a respiratory illness about a year before my mother's death.
"Cassie, are you all right?" Rane's voice sounded almost tender.
It was his kindness that nearly did me in. I blinked back tears. "I'm fine," I said. "I had an accident."
Dorianna gave a fake laugh. "Cassandra is well known for her lack of grace." She pointed at the tampons and condoms. "Don't forget your purchases from Narrow's, darling."
Her eyes gleamed with malice. She fully expected me to pick up those items in front of Rane. She held my future in her manicured hands. And she knew it.
I had the sudden, aching realization that Dorianna had no intention of letting me or my sisters into the coven. No matter how much I did for her, no matter how much abuse I tolerated from her cronies, no matter what—the Willowstones would never, ever have the coven's approval.
I'd been a blind, hapless fool.
"Don't forget the dress," said Tilda, shaking it at me.
I met Tilda's gaze. She stared a hole right through me. I don't even think she saw me. All she saw was Delia Willowstone. My mother had been dead for so long. How long would this town hold a grudge? How long would Tilda and the coven and everyone else make us pay for what happened?
Forever, that's how long.
Forever.
And I was sick of it.
"I'm late for work." I headed toward the door.
I heard Dorianna's gasp of dismay. "Cassandra!" she snapped.
I looked over my shoulder at her.
"Pick up your purchases now." She smiled at Rane, pretending to show distress. "You're embarrassing me in front of our new Sheriff."
"Sheriff?" I blinked. "What happened to Cooper?"
"Retired," he said.
"Oh," I said. "I liked him." Sheriff Cooper treated me fairly, even kindly. He'd been one of the few people in this town who understood I was not my mother.
I grasped the door handle. Apparently, Dorianna realized that I was actually leaving.
"Please excuse Cassandra," she told Rane. "She's not the best representative of our community." She turned. "Mother, could you—" She waved at the mess on the floor. "Rane and I have reservations at Montague's."
"Cancel," said Rane. "I won't work with your company."
Dorianna's face went slack. "What? Mr. Keller, we're the only realty company in Garden Grove." She smiled winsomely. "I have several wonderful properties to show you."
I stared at Rane. What was he doing? The only way he'd get a place to live in our town was through Dorianna and Tilda Miller. There was a reason Miller & Miller Realty didn't have competition in the town, or the immediate area come to think of it.
They ruthlessly squashed competitors—in any form, even someone trying to sell their own house. There was even a long-running rumor that Beatrice Venish, a retired schoolteacher, once tried to rent the apartment above her attached garage to a college student only to have the place go up in flames. True or not, those kinds of stories kept people from crossing the Millers.
"No." The word was enough to convey Rane's intent and power. He tone brooked no argument.
Even Dorianna shut her mouth.