5 Beewitched (5 page)

“That won’t be necessary,” I decided, then to clueless Lori I said, “Why don’t you guess again?”

Grams giggled, an indication that she found Lori as dopey as I did.

“On the way to a funeral?” Lori guessed again.

“We have a new resident, remember?” I gave her a big clue, since her guesses were going from bad to worse. “In the house next to me. Weren’t you responsible for negotiating that? These are her friends who’ve come to help her settle in.”

I sensed that the witches were listening intently. They weren’t talking amongst themselves like earlier. The atmosphere went positively eerie, as though they recognized something about Lori and didn’t like what they saw. At least that’s what I would’ve suspected.

Lori, who doesn’t have typical human sensibilities, didn’t pick up on the change in the air. She walked right up to the woman who had called Rosina away from our conversation earlier—the most intimidating, imposing one of the bunch—and put a fake smile on her backstabbing face. She was in real estate sales mode. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“Lucinda Lighthouse,” the woman said, taking Lori’s hand reluctantly without even a tiny smile in return.

Her name is Lucinda? Doesn’t that just figure? Where do they come up with these names? Lucinda? Rosina? Dyanna? Although Aurora’s real name
is
really Aurora . . . On second thought, was it? I guess I’d just assumed.

Lori handed out business cards to everybody in the store, which I could have thrown her out for (the no soliciting sign was prominently displayed), but I was still hoping the witches would do something fun to her. Unfortunately, her next order of business was to torment me. “I discovered that the town has an old law on the books about cohabiting without benefit of marriage,” she told me. “It’s illegal, you know.”

I snorted, considering the source of this information.

“That trash?” Stanley asked. “Are you
sure
you don’t want it taken out?”

“Maybe soon,” I said.

Lori glared. “I’m considering going to the police chief and filing a citizen’s complaint over you and Hunter. You’re a bad influence on our impressionable young people.”

Before I could zing her right back, Lori turned on her heels and marched out the door.

I absolutely hate that woman’s guts. I know that’s not very charitable, and I’m supposed to be a bigger person than she is, but her behavior toward me is out of control. If only she’d stay out of my store and out of my life forever!

It took a few minutes to slow my heart rate back where it belonged and return my mind to the store. By now, Rosina was over in the corner, using her cell phone. After a minute she joined Lucinda. “She still isn’t answering her phone.”

“Well,” Lucinda said, “it’s up to you to fix this situation. And you’re running out of time.”

Next, I overhead Rosina say to one of the others, “We’re short and I’m in trouble with Lucinda.”

“What are you short of?” I piped up and butted in. “Can I help out?”

Rosina opened her mouth to answer, but Lucinda cleared her throat and shot her a warning glare. Rosina clammed up and gave the stage to her boss.

“We’re having a special meeting tonight,” Lucinda, obviously the queen bee spokeswoman, explained. “And we need one more person. But you couldn’t possibly help. You don’t have the right . . . er . . . attitude.”

Okay, I could do the math. I’d counted eleven of them. Then there was Dy back at the house to make it twelve. So they needed thirteen for whatever magical event they were planning for tonight. Part of me should have remembered that the number thirteen is supposed to be unlucky. Like Friday the thirteenth.

Unlucky!

But I wasn’t paying attention to superstitious beliefs at that particular moment in time, so I made a huge mistake by opening my own big mouth and inserting not my own flip-flopped foot into the equation, but my friend’s name.

“I know just the person you need,” I said. “Aurora Tyler would love to help out!”

Three

It wasn’t quite dark yet when I made the short walk
home from The Wild Clover after college students and twins Brent and Trent Craig arrived to take over for me and close up as they did most nights.

Those two had been lifesavers for me, always on time, hard workers, and loyal as can be. I was really going to miss them once they graduated and moved on. Replacing them would be difficult, if not impossible.

After Dy’s friends had made their purchases and departed, I’d done some online research in my office in the back supply room and learned all about warding off evil with horseshoes and wind chimes. I also found out that the ideal number of members in a witch coven is thirteen (which I’d guessed) and that covens gather at certain times for special rituals inside magic circles.

Aurora had called to profusely thank me for giving the witches her name as an alternate. Thank goodness, because I’d been feeling a bit guilty about that. But she was ready to rock and roll. Dance, sing, whatever they were planning for the big event, she was willing and able.

As I turned onto Willow Street, fallen leaves crunched underfoot from white birches and other early shedders, but most of the other tree species were still showing their amazing colors. As the day ended, a chill took over the air where earlier sun had warmed the earth. Soon we would be waking up to frost on the ground and a more distant arc of the sun’s path. I saw the witchy women’s van parked on the street behind the moving truck, and candlelight flickered in Dy’s windows. I could hear voices inside, unintelligible from this distance with so many conversations going on at once.

I half expected to see horseshoes nailed all over Patti’s house, to ward off the witches, but luckily she’d chosen to add wind chimes to her yard instead, which now sang softly in the breeze. Her house was dark, as was mine, unfortunately. I really love when Hunter beats me home, which isn’t often, because he knows how to make the place welcoming: soft, indirect lights; music playing in the background, usually light jazz; and he’ll wine and dine me while we share the highlights of our day with each other.

I couldn’t wait to tell him about the witch next door.

Hunter called my cell as I let myself inside the dark house. “Hey, sweet thing,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Stranger than usual. Things are getting interesting on Willow Street. Wait until you hear this!” I told him all about our new neighbor as I held the refrigerator door open, perusing its meager contents. I was hungry, but nothing inside appealed to me.

He was surprisingly indifferent when it came to Dy and her magic wand, but he liked the part about Patti’s phobia. “With any luck, Patti will move someplace far, far away,” he said, focusing on our other neighbor.

“Don’t you have anything to say about the new neighbor?”

“As for the witch, I have experience getting along with them, as you well know.”

“That isn’t funny.” I closed the refrigerator door and opened the cupboard instead, taking out a jar of peanut butter.

“I didn’t mean you,” he said. “Uh. I meant your moth . . . um . . .”

I could have let him sputter and try to backtrack, but instead I interrupted. “There are a whole bunch of them over there right now, getting ready for some kind of ceremony. When are you coming home?”

“I’m not sure yet. We’re handling a situation. This could go late.”

“What’s going on?”

“A high-risk prisoner transfer.”

“Ah.”

I hated Hunter’s job right that moment and wished I hadn’t even asked for information. And I knew better than to request more details. My man’s job with the Critical Incident Team demanded discretion and discipline. Veering from his professional training wasn’t in his makeup. Part of me was surprised he even told me as much as he had.

“Remind Ben to watch your back,” I said, grateful for Hunter’s K-9 partner.

“I’d like to watch yours. Or rather . . .” His voice dropped to a moaning groan, and I didn’t have to be Einstein to figure out that this conversation was heading toward the gutter.

“Go fight bad guys,” I told him. “Do a good job, and I’ll have a reward waiting first thing in the morning.”

Which was true. Because I worried nonstop about the danger associated with his job and was thankful every single time he walked through the door with Ben at his side.

“That promise is worth staying alive for,” he said.

“Be careful.”

“Happy witching,” he said, signing off.

I stood at the kitchen counter, eating peanut butter from a soup spoon and wondering what
high-risk
meant. Was the prisoner the dangerous one? Did he have friends out there somewhere, targeting my man?

I shouldn’t let Hunter’s job worry me so much. The team was comprised of the best of the best. When was the last time anything had happened to any of them? Never, that’s when.

I stuffed my worries into a secret compartment in my brain, then quickly slammed the door shut on them.

But what was I going to do with the rest of my evening? For starters, I figured I’d sit outside at my patio table with a hot cup of tea and get ready to watch the show next door. I got myself comfy with herbal tea and a warm fleece for the cooling fall evening. After I’d settled at the table with my tea, I thought of a question, so I called Aurora’s cell.

“Are the guests all staying with Dy tonight?” I asked, wondering how eleven women plus Dy, and maybe Greg, would all fit.

“No,” she said, her voice dreamy. “They’re pitching tents over in Al’s apple orchard at Country Delight Farm for a few days while they help Dy prepare her new home properly. They brought camping gear, so they’re set.”

Witches camp out? Who knew? Although they’re all into the natural world, so it made sense. Greg must have arranged it with his dad, but I couldn’t see him telling Al, who was a straight-and-narrow type of guy, that a coven of witches would be camping on his land. I bet he left out that detail.

“Thanks for caring about everybody, Story,” Aurora gushed. “You’re so sweet. And thank you so much for suggesting me for this. I get to be in a real Drawing Down the Moon ritual! I’ve always wanted to be part of one of those.”

Drawing Down the Moon?

“When are they doing their circle thing?” I asked, fascinated with the whole foreign-to-me process.

“As soon as it gets dark, but there’s a lot of prep work going on right now, like finishing the crescent cakes and preparing our bodies and building the blaze. Actually, I should go, there’s so much to do, but just ignore us! Especially don’t pay attention when we go skyclad.”

“Okay,” I said, planning to do the exact opposite of ignoring them.

Building the blaze? That sounded dangerous in an exciting sort of way. And the smell of baking crescent cakes wafting in my direction on the light breeze was delightful and almondy, my favorite flavor. The witches were putting the supplies they’d purchased at my store to good use.

But what was
skyclad
? That word hadn’t popped up in my quick research.

Greg came out of the house and began building a fire in a fire pit he must have dug earlier. He gave me a wave and a friendly grin. The Girl Scout in me (which felt like a zillion years ago) was mindful of how close we were to the river in case the blaze got out of hand, but we’d had rain recently and the pit was a decent distance away from any flammable foliage.

Patti’s house remained dark. Either she was avoiding the neighborhood or else she was spying from afar. At least I didn’t have to worry about her pulling something foolish. She’d been terrified of one witch. Imagine how she’d handle an entire coven?

I decided I’d work on learning more of the women’s names, too, since I figured I’d likely end up seeing them around. In my line of work, with the store and all, it’s important for me to be able to put a name with as many faces as possible, and at the beginning I was terrible at remembering. But The Wild Clover is more than just a place to stop for meal fixings on the way home from work. It’s part of our community, a place like on
Cheers
where everybody should know your name. So I make a concerted effort to remember my customers no matter how seldom they show up.

So the trick (as I remind my staff constantly) is to:

• make the commitment to remembering in the first place
  
• then concentrate hard
  
• totally focus during introductions
  
• follow by associating an image or a few words that begin with the same letter as the person’s name
  

For example, for Greg’s name and an accompanying picture and words beginning with G, I imagined him as
greg
arious with great jeans.

As for Dy, she has a to-die-for friend named Greg. Easy peasy.

Rosina can be shortened to Rosa, which reminds me of a rose and the woman by that name’s red-powdered cheeks.

And Lucinda was scarily easy, close enough to Lucifer that I’d never forget it. Or her.

Tomorrow, I’d learn a few more of their names.

From my position in the shadows, I could see everything going on without being too obvious. Women drifted in and out of the house dressed in long, flowing hooded capes. It would be much more reassuring to me if their clothing were lighter, but black seemed more fashionable for their big event. Their dark clothing combined with the cloud-filled sky made it hard to tell who was who. The coven wasn’t using modern conveniences like lights, even though I knew Dy’s house was equipped with plenty of outdoor lighting. Instead, warm, glowing candles flickered everywhere, casting long, wavering shadows.