Hearth & Hedge - Hearth & Cauldron Mysteries, Book 2 (PAPERBACK)

Chapter 1
We pulled to a stop on the dirt road outside the Tudor-style cottage with the steeply pitched roof and dark-brown half-timber trim. Everything about the property was perfect, from the scrubbed front porch to the potted plants lining the steps to the precisely manicured seven-foot-tall hedge. That’s where Ruby McLaughlin and I stood straddling our bicycles. Next to that hedge a few feet away from the garden gate where we were out of the owner’s view.
“Are you sure about this, Reeva?” she whispered.
No. I pushed my shoulders back. “Yes. It’s part of my role as high priestess to check in on a coven member when they’re in need.”
Ruby leaned close, her crystal-encrusted bike helmet bumping against my plain white one. “But this is Brigitte Maxwell.”
“Who is a coven member last I checked.” I removed my helmet and dropped it into the basket tied to my handlebars.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
I stared at my dearest friend until she looked up and met my eyes. “You can come if you stay quiet.” Her mouth dropped open, and before she could object, I added, “You know how you get.”
With a huff, she clamped her mouth shut again.
A pine arbor that arched high above a picket gate had been wedged into an opening cut into the hedge. Or the hedge had grown thick and tall on either side of the arbor. Most likely the second option, not that it mattered one way or the other. I stood beneath the arbor and peered in at the garden which was . . . not what I’d expected.
“Wow,” Ruby whispered from behind me, hands on my shoulders and pulling me down a bit so she could get a better look. “It’s a smaller version of the Barlow garden.”
“Can I help you two with something?”
Tall, blond Brigitte Maxwell appeared on our right. She had a trowel in one garden-gloved hand, a three-pronged hand rake in the other, and had clearly heard everything we’d said. Ruby blushed as bright as her name.
“I heard you had some trouble,” I explained, “and thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing and if there’s anything I could do to help.”
Brigitte pursed her lips. She always reminded me of a high society lady with her hair twisted into a neat chignon even when gardening. At the moment, her elegant appearance was tarnished the tiniest bit by a smudge of soil on the tip of her long, narrow nose.
“Why would I want help from you?” She raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows in challenge.
Brigitte barely knew me and still hated me.
“As I’m sure you heard me say,” I began, “I see it as my duty to help a coven member in need.”
Brigitte scowled and released an annoyed sigh. “You’re concerned about my broken statue?”

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