Sand Witches in the Hamptons (9781101597385) (30 page)

We needed that luck now to find Deni or there'd be no celebrating. Chief Haversmith said it would be too dangerous in the dark, with no way to protect miles of beachfront, or the local hero.

Un-uh. I worked hard to get the beach back for this one night. I wasn't missing it. Lou thought we might have enough men and mentalists to catch Deni before he got to me.

My father didn't see any mortal danger in my future when I called. That was enough for me. “We got the sand returned, and Mom gave Carinne a half-smile when everyone said good-bye. So how's your back now?”

“Killing me. I had to skip my golf lesson and my tennis date. I can't get a doctor's appointment for a week so I canceled the weekend in Miami with Lizzie.”

I'd never heard of Lizzie. “She'll wait, Dad. You're worth it.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-SEVEN

I
had a parrot on my shoulder and panic in my heart. Over fifty women and girls gathered on the beach, and they all looked at me. I kept looking behind me for a stranger with brown hair and glasses, but all I saw was Carinne, sticking close to me and Oey.

Then Grandma Eve called for quiet while Mom and Susan and Aunt Jas handed out small wooden torches dipped in kerosene. Grandma lit hers with a plastic lighter. She came and lit mine next, then tossed hers into the stone fire pit, filled with the driftwood we'd spent an hour gathering.

“Thank you for our own Willow and a good harvest.”

“For Willow,” others chorused as they lit their torches from the fire, then tossed them into the pit. “And for a good tourist season.” “A lucky number.” “My son getting into a college I can afford.” “My new hip.” “My mother-in-law moving to Arizona.”

I had a lot to be thankful for. “Thank you for good friends in time of need. And new friends and new family. And for Matt Spenser's love.”

I touched my torch to Carinne's, and Oey hopped to her shoulder. “I am thankful to you all for saving my life and giving me new chances.”

Mom went next. “I am grateful for family and furry friends. And finally knowing the truth.”

Susan raised her torch high. “For good health and good cooking.”

Her mom said thanks for Susan and her husband's love and for the children at school.

Louisa thanked the Paumanok Harbor women for welcoming her and her older daughter. Then she gave thanks for her son and new baby girl, who were home with Dante.

We thanked each other, the fire gods, the Andanstans. Some of us silently thanked Oey and the other beings from Unity; some thanked the Earth Mother or whatever divinity they worshiped. No matter. We were all doubly grateful to hear everyone's invocations and know we appreciated what we had, where we lived, and each other.

Mrs. Ralston said thanks for getting her Phi Beta Kappa pin back, so the jerks at the Suffolk County Center knew how smart she was. We laughed, then cried when Janie pushed her niece's wheelchair closer to the fire. Elladaire's mother wasn't all recovered from the fire, but she insisted on coming tonight to thank us for what the community had done for her and Elladaire.

That's why the men had their celebration in the parking lot, so we could weep and hug and act like fools. And so we could enjoy the warmth of the huge fire while they had to stand around freezing on the pavement.

Grandma Eve clapped her hands. “Now let's ask for blessings in the coming year. Wishes, prayers, or hopes, whatever you want. Out loud or to yourself.”

Jasmine and Susan took the children aside and helped them write on the paper boats we'd made and stapled to little pieces of wood so they'd float. Then she set a candle in each and let the little girls carry them to the water and set them free after their mothers helped light the candles. We watched the tiny twinkling armada float away while we made our silent wishes.

Not me. I had years of missed chances and wishes to make up. I got the last little boat and drew a picture. Me and Matt, the dogs and a pretty house. Okay, it looked like a lighthouse, kind of. I did not include the three babies; the boat was too small. As I launched it at the water's edge, I also said a prayer to whomever listened for Jimmie and Oey and Grandma Eve and Mom and Dad, my new sister and old cousin, my bodyguards, even Lou. The tiny boat carried a lot of wishes. I watched it drift out, the paper on fire, the wood chip beginning to burn . . . unless that was someone else's boat and mine sank.

It was the thought that counted, Grandma Eve said, the thanking for the past and the looking forward to the future. Like Thanksgiving and New Year's at once. The turning seasons, the turning tide, growing up, growing old, growing relationships.

“Growing the best tomatoes on the east end,” someone called out.

“And not growing complacent. May you all go in peace and prosperity and good health and, most of all, with love.”

The men came back while we were still kissing each other's cheeks. They made their own toasts to us and all women with hot cider, or what they'd brought in flasks. Then they started cooking hot dogs at the fire, helping the children toast marshmallows. Matt brought veggie burgers for the vegetarians.

He handed me one on a bun. “Funny, I carried one to Carinne first. I thought I could know you anywhere, even in moonlight.”

“A lot of people made that mistake tonight, we look so much alike, with the same hair color and blue eyes. But they're accepting her, and she's doing fine with Oey.”

“I must have missed the parrot in the dark.”

Matt didn't miss much, especially animals. If Oey had gone off to see about her eggs, Carinne could need help. It was hard to see across the fire's smoke or in the shadows, but I thought I spotted her off by herself. I headed in her direction, but she didn't look toward me. She kept staring at the chair Monte had brought for Jimmie to sit on. There was Jimmie telling tales to the two girls who'd cut their hair off for the cause. And there was Monte doing his yo-yo bit for Louisa's daughter. And there was Carinne, with Oey on her shoulder.

But if that was Carinne, who was the blonde woman with my haircut, my height? She had a pad and pencil in her hand, just like me. And she nodded to people who called “Great job, Willy.” Or “Nice to meet you, Carinne.”

Shit.

I ran toward my friends, yelling for help. Harris came running, so did Matt and Colin and Kenneth, who'd been sticking close to me as soon as the men joined the party.

Kenneth the precog shouted, “Danger!”

Lou stepped away from my mother and drew his weapon.

Harris and Matt both tackled me and tried to shield my body with theirs. I shoved at them. “Get off, you lummoxes. It's Carinne in trouble!”

But we were going to be too late. The third Willow—triplets, damn it—pulled a knife out of the middle of the drawing pad. A knife, like a fife. Knives, like Burl Ives and chives and hives and ex-wives. She aimed it right at Carinne's . . . back. Of course. Damn, damn, damn, Dad!

I screamed, “No, I'm Willow. That's my sister!” Colin had his gun out, so did the police sharpshooter, the chief, and a bunch of others, some unofficial and maybe unlicensed. But they didn't know which way to point, with women and children between them, gray smoke from the fire, and three freaking Willow look-alikes. And the parrot screaming bloody murder, “My petth!”

The girl hesitated, the knife poised in the air. Before anyone could shoot, Monte bobbed his stringless yo-yo twice to get it spinning, brought it back to his hand, then let it fly, so fast it made a silver streak through the night. The heavy yo-yo hit the imposter right in the head just as she released the knife. She dropped to the ground, the blonde wig falling beside her. A blue contact lens glistened in the sand.

We could all see the black buzzed hair and narrow features, the same ones in my sketch of Deni.

Oey flew at him with beak and talon and then barracuda jaws. Boy, the mayor was going to have to work overtime to get people to forget that.

“No, Oey,” I hollered. “Don't kill him. He's sick.”

My mother stood over the kid on the ground, cowering with his hands over his head. She gave him a solid kick. “I don't care how sick you are, you do not hurt animals. Or my girls.”

Then Lou dragged him up and put handcuffs on him.

Micky from the fire department helped. “Man, this dude is really screwed up.”

“He's gay?” That was Micky's talent, recognizing sexual preferences.

Micky scratched his head. “Nah. I think he goes both ways, in drag or out. They'll love him at Attica.”

I almost felt sorry for the sobbing animal who'd caused so much trouble. Almost. I didn't want to go near him, but I had to. “Why?”

“I loved you. You had to be mine. Or nobody's.”

“Mine!” This time Oey swooped down and lifted the kid right off the beach and dropped him in the water. At that exact moment a flock of small, brilliantly colored parrots appeared in the moonlit sky and dove after him. Only they resurfaced as a swarm of iridescent fish in the bay, jumping and leaping, churning the water. Deni screamed. So did I.

“No, Oey! No!”

Deni disappeared. So did the fish, the parrots, and the sudden sandstorm that blinded everyone, extinguished the fire, and vanished before we could blink.

Oey came back to inspect Carinne's shoulder where the EMT already had a bandage on the small wound in her upper back. Then Oey came back to where I had my face buried in Matt's chest.

“Mine.”

Mischief night was over.

* * *

I went back to the city. Mom needed help moving, but not into my apartment. Lou had one that allowed pets, right across the street. She'd stay there and come out to the Harbor on weekends when she wasn't filming in the studio or traveling to locations around the country. I did not ask where Lou would stay.

Susan wanted to sublet my apartment while the restaurant was closed for the off-season. She'd registered for courses at NYU in restaurant management, for when Uncle Bernie retired and she took over the Breakaway. I could always come stay with her when I needed to see my publisher or do a book signing, or when Matt and I wanted to visit the real world.

I didn't think I'd have time. I had so many ideas, so much I wanted to do. I'd finish the professor's book first, of course. He talked excitedly about another one, if the first did well. I had the course to teach for Louisa, a portrait of her baby to paint. And I still wanted to write Little Red's story for children. Then again, Christmas was coming. I loved that season and thought maybe I'd do a YA fantasy about it. I could call it
Yule Tide in the Hamptons
. Or I could write about how hard it was to find the perfect place to live out at the end of the Island. My mother's house was okay for now, with Matt's new partner taking over the one near the clinic, but we wanted one of our own, not the guest house at Rosehill, either, despite Carinne and Jimmie's enthusiastic urging and Monte's not quite as enthusiastic. Dealing with real estate people and zoning rules and mortgage banks could be a story of its own. I'd title that one
Light Houses in the Hamptons
.

Or I could plan a wedding. My father promised he'd come for it, and my mother swore she wouldn't strangle him.

Matt just smiled.

Me, too. I had . . . everything.

 

 

DAW Books Presents CELIA JEROME's

Willow Tate Novels:

 

TROLLS IN THE HAMPTONS

NIGHT MARES IN THE HAMPTONS

FIRE WORKS IN THE HAMPTONS

LIFE GUARDS IN THE HAMPTONS

SAND WITCHES IN THE HAMPTONS