Sand Witches in the Hamptons (9781101597385) (24 page)

“The beaches are public. You're invited.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-ONE

I
had another new mission. Just what I needed.

I had a new mental attitude, too. Grandma Eve and her cronies wanted my help with the Andanstans? I'd take a page from the little nasties' book. A favor for a favor. I'm giving up my time, maybe giving up my safety and sanity; the older generation could give up some of their inbred, ancient ways. The world kept changing. Paumanok Harbor had to, also.

I didn't mean for them to go public, inviting supermarket tabloids and undercover documentaries and Roswell-type tourists. I just wanted Paumanok Harbor to acknowledge its other citizens.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

I collected my retinue to go take on the sand, then the psychics. Unfortunately, one of my supporters had to sit down. Jimmie was weary and needed a rest after walking through the gallery corridors after the amble through town. He had so much determination to help that I kept forgetting he'd barely recovered from a near drowning and days of being lost. Then he'd had to face his most fiercesome foe in the middle of a hurricane. I also kept forgetting how many birthday candles the courtly old gentleman had blown out in his lifetime.

As we got in the car to head back to Rosehill, he said he liked my paintings better than any he'd seen at the arts center. He ought to be knighted.

Maybe I'd get Grandma Eve to include men on the beach, not just untalented women and children. Jimmie deserved our blessings, too.

I didn't mind putting off the beach visit till later, hoping Matt could come along with us after office hours. Besides, I wanted to check on Carinne. We pretended to take Jimmie home to get what he called his trainers.

“What you call running shoes or sneakers. Can you imagine me sneaking around?”

Honestly, no.

Lily said Carinne had fallen asleep. I wanted to check for myself. Her public raving could unravel centuries of hidden magic, and I did not trust Lou, DUE, Royce, or Monteith to put her well-being ahead of keeping the secrets. Inviting outsiders to a beach party was one thing. Letting them know we had Pandora going postal was another.

I did trust my mother's cousin, but I tiptoed upstairs anyway. I whispered Carinne's name, and tried the door when I got no answer. It was unlocked, which only went to prove Carinne came from Florida, not Manhattan. She lay curled on the bed, the gray cat next to her on the pillow. I got out fast before Little Red saw a mortal enemy.

I reassured Jimmie, who now had a cup of tea in his trembling hand. When I claimed I had a lot of errands before I went to the beach, he looked relieved at the chance to rest here. I'd come get him later in the afternoon, when odds were better that Oey might appear. Shadows could hide the molt the proud creature did not want Jimmie to see.

Lily nodded in approval.

The new Rosehill director, Monteith, must have a touch of telepathy or precognition because he stayed out of sight, rather than face the lecture I'd prepared on the way over. Like what he could do with his yo-yo. And how he was supposed to guide Carinne, not toss her to the lions.

* * *

I found Grandma Eve and Lou and Doc Lassiter shifting papers around in the farmhouse kitchen.

“You're not too busy to listen. Good,” I said, setting Little Red down so I could cross my arms over my chest and look belligerent and determined, if not like a pouty six year old. Then I proceeded to tell my thoughts on equality and democracy and brotherhood. I amended that to sisterhood. Then I threw in a few mentions about second-class citizens, bullies, and isolationism, which was nearly impossible in the age of iPads and Ethernet.

“You cannot shut decent people out of public events. To do so fosters hostility, which could have the precise effect you are trying to avoid, namely having people question what goes on here. They are not stupid, simply because they cannot predict winning lottery numbers or find lost people by staring into bowls of water. They'll grow resentful. They'll decide we need a mayor who doesn't forget their names when they've lived here for twenty years, a village board that understands and obeys the sunshine laws, rather than governing the place from this very kitchen table. If you and the mayor and the police chief and Mrs. Ralston keeping ruling Paumanok Harbor like an exclusive country club—read exclusionary in that—there'll be riots in the streets.”

Okay, maybe I went too far.

“Or good people will move away. People like Louisa and Dante Rivera, who have done so much for this town. Why should they stay and raise their children here when they'll grow up with inferiority complexes? I finally heard what goes on at the women's night. I heard it from Louisa herself, who heard all about it at the center, so it's not some closely held secret. It's not the witches' sabbath I feared, either, though you might dance naked by moonlight after everyone leaves.”

Lou laughed, but Doc Lassiter looked interested. Grandma Eve kept putting stamps on envelopes and ignoring my diatribe.

I spoke louder and pounded the table for effect. Little Red barked, so I had to shout over his noise: “How dare you refuse to bless Louisa's new baby? How could you deny her little girl the chance to launch a paper wish boat and watch until it sinks so she'll know her wish will come true? Are those children any less important than Kelvin's kid whose nose runs when he hears a lie? And while I'm at it, what kind of place permits only women on a public beach? That's not constitutional. It's not even good feminism. It's segregation, that's what. Professor Harmon offered up his very life to save this town. Don't you think he's entitled to take part in its festivities?”

My throat went dry before I could use Montauk's huge St. Patrick's Day parade as an example, where less than ten percent of the marchers, I'd guess, had any Irish in them, unless you counted Irish whiskey and green beer. Doc Lassiter handed me a cup of tea and touched my shoulder. At peace now that I'd said my piece, I sat down and added sugar.

Then I remembered where I was and drank it fast, burned my tongue, poured the dregs down the sink, and rinsed the cup before Grandma Eve could look at the tea leaves in the bottom. Carinne already told my future.

“So what do you think?”

Grandma Eve handed me a stack of stamped envelopes. “I think you can drop the top one at the arts center, the next one at the vet clinic, and give Jimmie his invitation when you go back to get him. The rest go to the post office tomorrow.”

I looked. The top one was addressed to the Rivera family.

“You already planned to invite them?”

“And everyone else who can be counted on to appreciate what we do, rather than criticize the traditions. Of course, the mayor will be on hand in case anything occurs that people should not recall. Naturally, we won't permit cameras, cell phones, or recording devices.”

Naturally. I didn't win the argument, but I didn't lose either, which was a first with my grandmother, so I felt good. Or maybe that was Doc's touch still talking. Either way, I leaned over and kissed her cheek. She tut-tutted and straightened the stack of envelopes.

Then she reverted to the witch I knew and loved: “So we are going to have many more people on the beach, Willow. Two circles at first, men and women separate, so everyone can speak freely, then coming together. Which means we need the sand back. Stop wasting my time and yours. You have less than two weeks.”

Maybe the Andanstans would take my grandmother as payment for their help. Nah, they'd just be doing us another favor.

* * *

Harris drove me back to my mother's house to pick up the old Outback. He followed me to Matt's, and went room to room before he let me go inside, even though Moses kept watch. I promised to lock the door behind him and call when I wanted to go to the beach. Especially if I had to go without Matt. The stalker might have been in the city this morning, but he could be on the way here now.

On that cheerful note, I tried calling my mother again. She answered, but said she'd call back when she stopped for gas. At least she wasn't driving distracted, or demented like she'd be if I told her about Carinne.

Meanwhile, I called my father. “No, I haven't told her. She's driving north. Do you see any danger to her? Your Danny Boy person made threats. I need to know if the threats are real.”

“I can't tell, but I know she'll burst a blood vessel if you let her trip over Carinne on Main Street.”

So I had to tell him that Carinne wouldn't be going into the village until we got her premonitions manageable, after what happened with her and the kid, Brock, this morning. “But the Royce people are working on it, which is hopeful.” I was more optimistic that Oey'd have advice, but I kept that to myself.

He'd been hoping for better, I knew, but Dad said he was glad I found so many people trying to help. Maybe the yo-yo hypnotist I told him about could work something permanent. “They get people to quit smoking, don't they? They bring back lost memories, too, so maybe the Brit can do the reverse.”

“I'll ask.”

My first job was bringing back the sand. And staying alive long enough to do it.

“Do you have any new warnings for me, Dad?”

“You know how it works, baby girl, sometimes words, sometimes pictures, sometimes just a feeling like a tickle in the back of your throat. The last touch I had, that Irish guy and Burl Ives were marching in a parade, with a fife and drum band.”

“So I'm supposed to look out for a guy with a bagpipe or a glockenspiel?”

“He's wearing a wig.”

“Dad, Halloween is coming. Everyone will be wearing a wig. What kind? What color?”

“I'd tell you if I could! I can't just call it up like ordering takeout, you know.”

“I know, Dad. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm worried.”

“Me, too. I'll stay home tonight. See if anything comes to me.”

“Great. Let me know.”

“And you let your mother know.”

* * *

She called back fifteen minutes later. From South Carolina. She could be here by tomorrow.

“Mom, please take this threat seriously. The dirtbag kills pigeons and beheads rats. He sends filthy drawings. He's so crazy there's no telling what he'll do.”

“You're getting me paranoid, Willy. Now I keep thinking someone's listening to my conversations and following me.”

“Someone is, Mom. At least they're supposed to be, to protect you. DUE is taking the threats to heart. You should, too. Please stay away from here until they catch the bastard.”

“Fine. I'll stop off at the apartment.”

“No! That's just as bad. How about visiting Lily's daughter in New Jersey?”

“What's the jackass say?”

Dad said to tell her about Carinne. “Nothing that I can figure out. Burl Ives, fife and drum, and a wig. Oh, and hives and chives and extra wives. He didn't mention the mustang tonight, but he did kind of confirm the profiler's guess that Deni is a boy.”

“I can't stay away too long, not with the TV show coming up. And the festival.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me the thing on the beach was an earth mother kind of occasion, asking blessings or wishes or whatever?”

“It's also a thanksgiving, so they changed it to the night before All Hallow's Eve generations ago to avoid persecution, but keeping to the full moon tradition. Now the kids can enjoy Halloween, but not get up to trouble with all the women abroad. It's a beautiful celebration, but you wouldn't listen. Now all you listen to is the jackass' drivel. I'm supposed to look out for Burl Ives on a horse? If I catch that fat slob breaking some poor animal's back, I'm calling the SPCA.”

“You do that, Mom. Oh, I told Deni you had a pit bull and a Doberman and a Rotty with you, to scare him off. What are you delivering anyway?”

“Two toy poodles and a Maltese. We took them from some conscienceless cretin trying to make designer dogs.”

Real scary. “So stay there and find them good homes.”

“No, city-ites are more into toy breeds for apartments. But maybe I'll stop by the Greyhound Rescue Center in Philly to help get the racers they took acclimated to domestic life.”

“That sounds great. They need you.” I didn't. “Just let me know where you are, and I'll let you know when they get this a-hole.”

“What about Matt?”

“He already has a dog.”

“Don't be—”

“You're fading out, Mom. Talk to you later.”

* * *

Staying inside with the doors locked couldn't include walking across the yard to Matt's office, could it? I took Moses for protection and Little Red for noise.

The Hargrove woman had decamped, and Marta, the kennel man's wife, already sat behind the counter, looking confident and competent. Two small children played near her feet, crayoning and doing puzzles. Carinne couldn't come here, either.

The kids welcomed Moses like an old friend, and he almost barreled them over trying to lick both at once. Take that, Mrs. Hargrove.

Marta said her mother had a doctor's appointment, but she'd be by soon to take the kids to the playground. The little boy wailed that he wouldn't go, this place was better than any old playground.

With the new income, Marta told me, the children could go to daycare a few days a week, too. She thanked me for recommending her, between answering the phone, making appointments, and reassuring a nervous poodle owner that the doctor would be ready in a few minutes, but Moses would never hurt another animal.

I wasn't so sure about Little Red, so I held him tight and refused her gratitude. Mrs. Terwilliger had been the one to put Marta's name on the list.

Marta promised to make the librarian a bookmark.

A favor for a favor. Repaying a kindness.

Damn.

I handed Marta an invitation to the beach thing. “It's kind of like the annual blessing of the fleet or the blessing of the animals mixed in with thanksgiving.”