What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery (11 page)

Right now, though, I’m alternating between mortified and angry, mostly at myself. I can’t even look at him, working away over there. For me. I spend as much time as possible in the back with the online orders, and when he comes back for a tool, we don’t even acknowledge each other’s presence. This is especially hard when Alice goes on break, and we’re both stuck in the front. I try to read a book as he stencils.

I should apologize, I
know
I should apologize. He was just pointing out the obvious, but I can’t. If I do, I’m admitting to myself that he might be right, and I’ll lose all hope. And right now I need some fucking hope in my life. The potential that life won’t always be like
this
. When I think about the years ahead of me, I feel desolate. I work my ass off to scrape by, deal with everyone’s crises, and raise the girls until Ivy inevitably returns to snatch them away from me. I’ll just keep getting older, watching my body decay, having everyone go off to live their own lives. I’ll end up like Auntie Sara, alone and angry, living vicariously through others whether they like it or not. Looked down on and pitied. Hell, maybe I should just off myself and save my unknown enemy the trouble.

Alice returns before my thoughts grow even darker. “Adam, time to go,” I say.

“Fine.” He collects his tools as I go into the back to get my purse, coat, and sanity. He walks in just as I zip up my case. “Where’s your meeting?” he asks.

“Just up the street.” I toss him my car keys. “You take the car. I’ll get a ride home.”

“Do you want me to escort you there?”

“No, the streets are filled with people, I’ll be fine. You better go or you’ll miss their bus.”

He nods. I put on my coat and take a step to leave. “Mona?” he asks. I turn around. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t—”

“I know. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lost it like that. I’m just on edge.” I give him a quick smile. “Don’t let them have too much sugar, or you’ll really feel my wrath.”

“I definitely don’t want that,” he says with a smile back.

“I’ll be home about four thirty.” I wave and step out.

No one attacks me as I walk down Courtland Street toward Goodnight City Hall, the oldest building in town. Two of the people I’m helping honor this week, Courtland Goode and John Knight, constructed it three hundred fifty years ago when they first settled here. They and their families landed with the rest of the colonists but quickly broke away from the others, migrating west until Anne Knight—daughter of John and my great-to-the-twentieth-power-grandmother—told them to stop when she sensed the ley lines.

The town really owes itself to Courtland and Anne. The legend goes that John Knight, a witch in England, had two daughters: Anne and Mary. When one of their neighbors saw Anne literally playing with fire, the entire extended family fled before she was accused of witchcraft and hung. On the passage over Anne Knight met Courtland Goode, the handsome reverend’s son, and they fell madly in love despite the popular belief that witches were the spawn of the devil. That rumor was most likely started by an actual demon, not that it mattered. Millions of witches were killed in the most heinous ways, and to this day we’re feared and reviled. But none of this mattered to Courtland. He saw past the prejudice to the woman underneath. Courtland left behind his family—hell, everything he ever believed in—for Anne. From them came the town. And me.

City Hall is a two-story brick building with a bronze bust of Anne out front. Originally they wanted a statue of John and Courtland, but my great-great-grandmother Ramona led a protest down the street to have it changed to Anne. Except for sleeping with a drug-addicted crazy man, she was a woman after my own heart.

The six other committee members stand or sit around a table in the conference room. We’ve been working for months to pull this festival together. Like most things in this town, the government is run by the women. Magdalena Rogers, our mayor of ten years, is at the head of the committee with Eileen Merriman and Yvonne Cliff, both retired schoolteachers, doing the brunt of the work. My old classmate Jocelyn and I basically assist them when needed. Erica, who now sits at the table, manicured fingers tapping away on her iPhone, left the planning and execution to us. She just connected us with the concession company and donated ten grand for cleanup.

I smile at Jocelyn as I enter but make a beeline for my glamorous cousin. Like Shirley, she’s descended from Ramona’s sister Gillian, so we’re
distant
cousins. It shows. Ms. Erica Fitch is tall and thin with flaming red hair and brown eyes. It’s easy to see why she attracts the attention of powerful men, including vampires. There isn’t an inch of her that isn’t coiffed, tight, or manmade to look beautiful. As I sit, her eyes acknowledge me, but nothing more. “Afternoon,” I say.

“Afternoon,” Erica says coolly as she puts away her phone.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ll be glad when this festival’s over.”

“Me too. Of course then I have this
massive
silent auction I’m helping out with at the end of the month. I know I’m spreading myself too thin, but I’m such a giver, you know? How can you not help those who can’t help themselves?”

Oh gag me. “Are you coming to the coven meeting Saturday? Or the wedding?”

“The wedding, yes. I’ve been friends with the Walkers for ages. I hope you won’t be offended if I sit on their side at the wedding.”

Where all the posh people will sit instead of us country bumpkins. “Of course not, but I’m barely even thinking of the wedding. I have serious co-op problems.”

“Oh? Did those evil doggies give you fleas?”

“No, actually it’s our pale friend in Richmond.”

“Tommy?” she asks with surprise.

“Yeah. He’s been making noises about withdrawing his support and telling others to do the same. I’ve been trying to call him, but he won’t return my calls. You know him, right?”

“We have met on a few occasions,” she says with a private smile, no doubt reliving their sexual Olympics.

“Well, Alejandro called me Friday night, and I’ve been leaving messages for him as well.” I gaze at her to gage her reaction, but she remains impassive. Could just be the Botox. “I really,
really
need Thomas to call me back. This affects the entire coven. I hate to ask, but can you have him contact me?”

“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“You can be very persuasive, Erica. It doesn’t even have to be him, you can try Alejandro. Just one phone call. Please? For the coven?”

Okay, my logic behind this gambit is that if she wants me dead, there’s no way in hell she’ll waste a precious second of her time doing me this favor. And since her murder plot went awry, she’d stay as far away from Thomas as possible. On the other hand, if they are lovers, she’ll jump at a chance to call him, even for me. So if she calls him, she’s probably innocent. If she doesn’t, then she’s either a bitch or wants to kill me. Miss Marple, eat your heart out.

“Of course I will,” Erica says with a gracious smile. “Anything for the coven.”

Mayor Magda hustles in, her arms filled with file folders. We, being good minions, snap to. Those standing quickly find seats as our taskmaster hands us each a file. We go over the order of events, all our specific jobs from here on in, the progress of the mural for the pageant. After twenty minutes of discussion of who is providing what for the silent auction at the country club, I feel like stabbing myself in the eye with a pencil. Quite a few times, I glare at the oblivious Magda for roping me into this. She cornered me at the grocery store and pretty much told me she was recruiting me for this committee. She is not a woman a person says no to, which makes her a good mayor.

“In other news,” Magda says, “I was at the Goodnight Museum where DJ Ray from WQRG was broadcasting and promoting the festival this week. The museum had record numbers of attendees this week and tomorrow’s performance of
The Crucible
is sold out. And both the bake sale and arts and crafts fair were rousing successes. We also forecast making ten thousand dollars at the bachelorette auction on Wednesday. We’ve had fourteen participants sign up, including our very own Erica Fitch and former homecoming queen Naomi Ferguson.”

We clap at this stunning achievement. “And please know I have been promoting the heck out of this event too,” Erica says, “both in town and Richmond. I am more than sure we will surpass our goal.” On her alone, she no doubt adds in her head.

“And thank you, Erica, for organizing the event,” Magda adds. “I’ll meet with you on Wednesday to coordinate at the club. I think that’s it. We seem to have everything well in hand. If I have any follow-up, I will call you. See you all on Thursday for prep.”

We all stand and Jocelyn mutters to me, “That’s over an hour of my life I’d like back.”

I chuckle as I push in my chair. “Hey, can you give me a ride home?”

“Sure,” Jocelyn says.

Erica begins tottering away on her five-hundred-dollar heels. “Just give me a sec, okay?” I rush after Erica, tapping her on the shoulder. She spins around. “I … ” Okay, do I really want to do this? It has a huge potential to blow up in my face, making me the laughingstock of the town. Or worse, it could break my heart. But Daddy didn’t raise no coward. “I want to sign up for the bachelorette auction.”

Her eyes just about bug out of her head. “What? Really?
You?”

“Yeah. It’s not too late, is it?”

“What—You—What,” she stammers. “Are you sure? I mean, you … I don’t think it’s your scene, Mona. Most of the men attending are, well, not your type. You wouldn’t enjoy yourself.” She pats my shoulder. “I’m just looking out for you.”

I so want to punch her surgically altered nose, but being a lady I instead plaster a smile on my face. “That’s really sweet of you. Really. But I promised a certain gentleman I would participate, and I cannot bring myself to let him down. I’m sure you understand.”

“And who is this gentleman?”

My smile grows wider. “Let me sign up and see.”

Erica’s eyes narrow as she tries to figure out my angle. As if I’d sabotage her event. “Well, it’s your life, Mona. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Though it sickens me, I hug her tiny form. “Thank you, Erica.” I let her tense body go. “I really appreciate it. Don’t forget to call Thomas for me! See you Wednesday!”

I rush over to the confused Jocelyn waiting for me by the door. “What on earth was that about?”

“A leap of faith.”

• Witchcraft for dummies
  

Ah, just what every woman wants to be greeted by after a long day: the noise of a band saw. The whirring grows louder as I enter the house. Auntie Sara pounces on me the moment I shut the door.

“Is he going to continue with that racket during the class?” she shouts. “I cannot stand it a moment longer!”

I set my bag down and start toward the source of the noise, the backyard. Auntie Sara has begun setup for the class in the living room, dining room, and kitchen by laying down plastic sheets on all tables and setting out extra copies of the lesson. In half an hour there will be twenty witches here, and there isn’t a single one who isn’t messy. We used to meet at the high school chemistry lab, but then the old principal retired and the new one is a Baptist and didn’t want evil spread through his high school—his words, not mine. So I sacrificed my upholstery and carpet for the furtherment of education. I should put a curse on that damn principal.

When I get outside, with Auntie Sara right on my heels, I find Adam behind Papa’s old wooden stand using an electric saw to cut planks of wood. There’s a whole stack of them off to the side. He’s not the only one hard at work. Sitting in the grass, Sophie and Cora have their own project, painting lumber with dark varnish and deep concentration, as if they were working on a masterpiece.

Adam shuts off the saw when he notices me and takes off his safety glasses. “Oh hey.”

“Aunt Mona, we’re painting!” Cora says with a huge grin.

“I see that.”

“Before we went to the grocery store, we stopped by the Home Depot and got the wood for the shelves,” Adam says. “Had a little luck too. They had some already cut to fit the bookcase. The girls are working on those now.”

“You went grocery shopping too?” I ask.

“They were right next door to each other,” Adam says.

“Oh, well, thank you,” I say, most impressed for some reason.

“You’re welcome,” he says with a nod.

“Young man, are you going to—” Auntie Sara starts.

The man completed my most hated chore; I’m not going to have him lectured. “Auntie Sara, can you please finish setting up?” I ask with a sweet smile. “Everyone should be arriving soon. I’ll be in there in a minute.”

“Fine,” she says, still eyeing Adam, who holds his pleasant façade. She retreats inside.

“That woman does not like me,” Adam says when she’s out of earshot. “She barely let me in the house when we came home. Then she tried to grill me about myself. That’s when I started sawing.”

“She’s just protective.”

“I can appreciate that. How’d your meeting go?”

“Dull, but Erica was there in all her bitchy glory. I asked her to call Thomas for me.”

“Think she will?”

“If she’s innocent, she will. And as much as I can’t stand her, I don’t think she’s the one. Being High Priestess is all about respect and guiding others, and Erica wants precious little to do with us lowly small-town folk.”

“Just don’t let your guard down around her,” Adam warns.

“Speaking of, both Collins and Cheyenne will be here shortly. Can you keep an eye on the girls in case the spells hit the fan?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks,” I say as I reach across and rub his hard biceps in appreciation. His body jerks in surprise as if I’ve just electrocuted him. I quickly pull away. “Sorry. Sorry, I just thought because werewolves like to be touched—”