Page 78 of Enchanted to Meet You

“That’s why I think there’s been a mistake,” I prattled on. “Ihaven’t bought a new car. Billy Walker said that Hopkins Motors was going to fix my old car.”

“Well, I guess it couldn’t be fixed.” The tag on the man’s coveralls said that his name was Earl. Pye seemed to like him—though Pye liked almost everyone—since he was rubbing his head against Earl’s legs. “’Cause he got you a whole new car instead. Even the taxes been paid. Mr. Walker told me to tell you that all you need to do is have a charging station installed, and call your insurance company to add this car to your policy. Oh, and I’m supposed to give you these.”

Earl reached into the pocket of his coveralls, then withdrew an envelope and set of keys, both of which he dropped into my hand.

“But...” I stared down at the items in my hand. “Sir... I don’t—”

It was too late. Earl waved away my protests. He ambled back to his truck, climbed in, and drove away, leaving the Mini gleaming in my driveway beside Derrick’s beat-up rental car, and Pye meowing after him in farewell.

“Uh,” I said, looking down at the keys. What was happening?

I assumed that as owner—co-owner—of Hopkins Motors, Billy got a significant discount on the cars he sold.

But even so. This was ridiculous.

“Isn’t your birthday in February?” my neighbor Annalise asked, as she sipped her coffee. Annalise and her husband, Ronnie, had lived next door since before I was born. They knew everything about me, except of course the most important thing, that I was a witch.

“It is,” I said.

“So why is Billy Walker giving you a new car when it’s not even your birthday?”

“That’s a good question.” I tore open the envelope Earl had left me.

Inside was a card with a gold rose on the front. When I opened it, I was flabbergasted to see only two words, scrawled in bubbly cursive, followed by a single letter.

I’m sorry.

R.

Rosalie. It was the same card that had been inside the basket of muffins she’d given me (and that I’d thrown into a dumpster behind Office Depot yesterday on my way into work, even before I’d known they were love muffins. No animals or freegans were likely to find and ingest them there).

But why would Rosalie be apologizing to me? And why would she give me a car—or rather, force her husband to?

“It sure is pretty,” remarked Val, who was retired from the post office.

“Yes,” I said. Itwasa pretty car. Prettier than Bluebell by a mile. And much more energy efficient. “But I can’t possibly keep it.”

“Why not?” Val shrugged. “Take that boy for all he’s worth.”

The rest of my neighbors nodded in agreement. Although it had been more than ten years earlier, all of them seemed to remember Billy’s screaming of my name outside my bedroom window late at night when I’d refused to come down.

Awkward that none of them had thought to call the police or even tell my parents about it at the time.

Oh, well.

I heard the steady slap of footsteps, and looked up from the car to see Derrick running down my street. On such a chilly grayOctober morning, with his long blond hair, silver eyes, and wide shoulders, he looked like a Viking racing through the mist across a battlefield, toward his ladylove.

I won’t lie: it was hot.

My neighbors must have thought the same thing, since when Derrick reached me, panting and sweaty, and bent to kiss my cheek, I saw all of them smile, even grumpy Val.

“Good morning,” Derrick said. “Is everything all right?”

I could see why he’d ask. I was standing outside in my robe. He must have thought his Nordic protection spell had failed, and some kind of supernatural threat had forced me from the house while he’d been out running.

But all of my neighbors only nodded their heads. Everything was all right.

Then Derrick’s gaze fell on the car. “Where did this come from?”