The Hidden Legacy

on sale.”
“Thanks, Edmund.” I smiled. I needed to be thrifty, as every extra dime I had either went into my craft business or into a savings account for the home I hoped to buy in the future. “You look pretty sharp yourself, too.”
My friend leaned against the counter as the machine gurgled out a cup of coffee. He was gym toned, drop dead gorgeous with dark hair and eyes, and impeccably dressed.
“Well, it’s not everyday you expand your business, and take on a new partner,” he said.
I made a face. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”
“Jealous, darling?” Edmund teased.
“No, I’ve never even met your friend,” I said, walking over to brew a cup of tea for myself.
I loved my job working with Edmund. But there was no way I could ever reveal my talents in front of an outsider. More importantly, I couldn’t imagine an ex-cop being comfortable working with a Witch. Even if he actually believed in them.
“We’re lucky to have him join us here,” Edmund confided.
“How’s that?” I asked, popping a K-cup of English Breakfast into the machine.
“Henry Walker had an exemplary career as a homicide detective in Atlanta.”
“Had?” I frowned. “Why’d he leave the force in Atlanta?” I wanted to know.
Edmund paused and seemed to choose his words carefully. “It’s not that complicated, Hannah. He decided he wanted a quieter life.”
I waited until the cup filled, and thought about what Edmund had said. “Well, he’ll get that lifestyle here.” I shrugged.
“But?” Edmund asked patiently.
“I think it’s wonderful that business is booming, but I’m still not sure how I feel about an outsider coming into our work environment. What if he notices?”
“Henry and I were roommates in college. He already knows I’m gay.”
I snorted out a laugh, and reached for the milk we kept in the mini-fridge on the back counter. “No, I meant what if he notices about me? And my...abilities?”
Edmund’s eyes went comically large. “I thought I told you to hide the cauldron!”
“Want some hemlock for that coffee?” I asked deadpan.
He took the carton of milk away from me. “Don’t poison me, I’m about to give you a raise.”
“You know better than anyone that some people don’t react well to anything they consider different.” I took the milk back, added some to my tea.
“If you’re truly concerned we can always reinstate the rutabaga rule here in the office.” Edmund slung an arm around my shoulder and I leaned into him.
“See, this is why I love you.” I smiled. “You get me, my family, and the rules we live by.”
“My mother also raised my sister and me to be discreet.” Edmund sipped his coffee. “I may not have the gifts you do, but don’t worry, Hannah. I have a feeling...Henry Walker being here is going to be a good thing. For all of us.”
We settled into our morning routine and Edmund brought me up to speed on the latest town gossip. My friend knew everybody in Danvers, between the investigations and his innate curiosity, he had the inside scoop on practically everyone and everything. From the oldest of the founding families, from all the way back to the Witch trials...to the newcomers.
Shortly before lunchtime, Edmund escorted our oldest client, Mrs. Endicott, to the door. She was in her mid-eighties, the president of her neighborhood homeowner’s association, and was typically in once every few weeks to report something to Edmund. A few weeks ago it had been to report that someone or something had snitched a few prize roses from her gardens.
To his credit, my friend handled her with a graciousness that I couldn’t have managed. When she finally left, I smiled and let out a relieved breath as Edmund closed the door behind her. The old woman always smelled of mothballs, and I was relieved when she left.
“That’s one mean old bat,” I said as she walked further down the street.
“That she is,” he agreed. “But today she became a client.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” He pulled a check out of his pocket. “There were a couple of robberies on her street last week. One of the families were home when the thieves broke in. Scared them pretty badly.”
“The Marshalls?” I asked, thinking back.
“Yeah, and Mrs. Endicott is convinced that she’s next.” He handed me the check. “We’ve just been hired to investigate the robberies and neighborhood vandalism by the Oak Hills Homeowners Association.”
“My sister and her family live in that neighborhood,” I said, reaching for the check. When I saw the retainer fee, I jolted in surprise. “Wow, they aren’t kidding.”
“No they aren’t.”
I tucked the check away in the lock box, and Edmund returned to his office. I’d only started going through my files when an intriguing scent wafted over me. The a/c unit in the building was new, and I was intrigued to catch the barest hint of the port and the docks.
We were several blocks away from the marina and inside the building, so there was no physical way for the scent to make its way indoors...however, I tended to pick up on fragrances and they often had very specific meanings for me. This one whispered of: Travel, change, and a journey...
I snapped my head up. A man stood on the sidewalk, considering our front windows. He was tall, with tousled dark blonde hair. He squinted against the sun and took his time studying the building. Eventually he reached for the door and walked in.
“May I help you?” I asked.
The man had a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. He wore khaki slacks and a button down chambray shirt—both could have used a bit of ironing. “Hello,” he said, with a slow Southern drawl. “I’m here to see Edmund Fox.”
Why did he seem so familiar? I wondered. As I sat there gaping at him, an intense feeling of déjà vu swept over me. This was the man I’d seen on the docks. The sexy one working on his sailboat...who Eli had decided was a pirate.
“Henry!” Edmund’s happy voice from behind made me practically jump out of my chair. Edmund walked