Social Medium (Hedgewitch for Hire #2) - Christine Pope Page 0,2

one that signaled she could tell I’d wandered off into la-la land again and she didn’t appreciate me woolgathering while there was business that needed to be handled. “But I’ll try to check it out after I close up the shop today.”

“Oh, would you?” she replied, now with an expression of relief. “Because I really think that if you can plan some kind of ritual, something truly spectacular, then you’ll definitely put Globe on the map.”

“Whoa,” I said, and put up a hand, although I knew that sort of gesture was pretty much futile when it came to getting Josie Woodrow to slow down. “I’m not really the ‘spectacular ritual’ kind of witch. My magic is mostly pretty quiet.”

For just a second, she looked almost uncomfortable. I’d gotten the impression on more than one occasion that, while she was just fine with me running a woo-woo shop in her little town and referring to myself as a witch, she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the reality of magic, with the hard fact that it wasn’t all just pretty crystals and incense and colored candles.

But because it was Josie, she brushed off her moment of unease fairly quickly. “Well, whatever you can do,” she responded in airy tones. “And of course, you’ll have to set up an Instagram account.”

“I’m not even sure what Instagram is,” I protested. “Is it like Facebook?”

That question made her chuckle. “No, of course not,” she said. “I mean, I think it’s owned by the same company…and I think you post photos and short videos there…and people can like them and respond…but it’s still very different.”

I had my doubts, but I refrained from commenting. She might not have known the finer points of the differences between Instagram and Facebook, but she still knew worlds more than I did. “I guess I’ll pull out my laptop and check it out.”

Josie sent me a pitying look. “You don’t do Instagram on your computer,” she said. “It’s a phone app.”

Great. I’d tried to make sure my phone was just a device for making calls and not a lot more, mostly because I didn’t want to turn into one of those people who always had their face buried in a screen and therefore missed most of what was going on around them. But since I’d already promised Josie I’d look into it, I didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, it might be a good idea to help spread some positive witchiness out there on the internet. The Goddess only knew the world could use all the good vibes it could get.

“Okay, then I’ll download it and install it a little later,” I said.

She beamed at me. “Wonderful. And if you have any questions about how to use the app, just give me a call and I’ll walk you through the process.”

“I will,” I promised, although I thought I’d most likely consult Google to try to ferret out the finer points of Instagram and all its particular nuances.

Since Josie had succeeded in roping me into one of her schemes, she didn’t seem inclined to linger. She slipped her iPhone into her purse and said, “Well, I’m off. We’re doing our first run-through of Chicago today.” Her hands slid to her hips, and she gave me a reproving look. “I still wish you’d auditioned.”

“Josie, I can’t sing a note,” I replied, which was only the truth. I might have possessed a variety of useful talents, but singing definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Still, you would have made a wonderful Velma Kelly.”

Somehow I doubted that having someone with the singing voice of a croaking frog as one of the two leads in your musical was a very good idea, no matter how much she might have looked the part. “When it comes to the Old Globe Theater Group, I think I’d rather be a benefactor behind the scenes,” I told her.

At once, she looked almost contrite. “And believe me, it’s appreciated. That new seating and the new curtains at the theater are going to make all the difference in the world. And if you ever change your mind about performing — ”

“I won’t,” I said firmly.

“All right.” The sparkle was back in her eyes. “Just let me know when you have your Instagram account set up.”

I knew better than to argue.

“I will,” I said.

Because it was a quiet Thursday at the shop, I went ahead and closed at four-thirty instead of my usual five o’clock. Although the days had been getting longer and longer