What if she made an excuse to go down to the station? Was that what he hoped would happen? She couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.
She called Cameron.
“GRAHAM DRANK the love potion.”
Cameron’s heart sank. It wasn’t that she believed the love potion would work. All the same, Graham Corbett’s drinking it seemed a sign—a sign that he and Mary Anne were going to end up together.
In any case, he was not attracted to Cameron. If he had been, she would have felt it. Lots of men were attracted to her. But last night, when Graham had taken her home, he’d seemed deeply preoccupied.
Cameron lived in an old miner’s company house that had been moved from its original location to the foot of Jack Hollow. When she’d climbed out of Graham’s car, the dogs came to greet her. Wolfie was feral, a black animal almost certainly part wolf, who’d gradually become tame and was loved by the people of the hollow, and his daughter, Mariah, Cameron’s own dog. Cameron had glanced into the car at Graham but he was simply waiting, engine idling. No hope.
She told Mary Anne, “I don’t think he needed to.”
“Needed to do what?”
“Drink the love potion. I think he’s already seriously smitten with you.”
“Well, I’m not smitten with him. What happened when he took you home?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
Mary Anne said, “Well, forget him. Jonathan called.”
Cameron listened to the details, saying, “But he didn’t drink the love potion. Maybe this is what Clare meant—that they don’t always work the way you think.”
“She told me to make sure the right person drinks it.”
Cameron considered, curious. “If I’m up at her place again, I’m going to ask her about other things that have happened with love potions.” Maybe she has something that will help me get over my stupid crush on a man who likes my cousin. “You’re going to do the show with Graham, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.”
Cameron remembered something she’d meant to ask the night before. “Hey, can you help me with Women of Strength next weekend?”
“As long as it’s not caving.”
Cameron smiled, remembering that on a previous caving trip Mary Anne, who wasn’t proportioned for the sport, had gotten stuck in a narrow passage. “It isn’t this time, but we’re doing Big Jim’s Cave at the end of November and I want you to do that with us. You won’t get stuck there.”
“What’s next week’s joy?”
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