That Old Witch!: The Coffee Coven's Cozy Capers: Book 1

by M. Z. Andrews

  “I was her roommate,” added Char. “I kept in contact with Kat over the years, checking in on her once or twice a month. We were really sad to hear that she’d passed.”

  Mr. Marlow’s smile faded, relaxing the overexaggerated curves of skin beneath his eyes, and he nodded sadly. “Katherine was a sweet woman. I always enjoyed our visits.”

  There was a knock at the door, and then the receptionist’s blond-headed bird’s nest poked inside the room. “Mr. Marlow, Ms. Prescott is here for the will reading.”

  His hand lifted off his desk as he gestured her in with two fingers in the air. “Send her in, please.”

  Phyllis’s eyes widened as she turned to stare at Char. Gwyndolin Prescott? It couldn’t possibly be! Gwyndolin Prescott doesn’t even live in Aspen Falls!

  An older woman’s voice carried in from the hallway. “You’re going to keep an eye on her, right?”

  The receptionist’s voice trailed in. “Yes, your mother will be just fine in the lobby.”

  “She tends to wander…,” said the voice with hesitation.

  “I won’t let her leave my sight.”

  “Not even to use the restroom? Because if there’s a window…”

  “Okay, umm, yes, all right,” the younger woman stammered uncomfortably.

  A woman with shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair wavered in the doorway with her back to the room. “Maybe I could just bring her into Mr. Marlow’s office with me?”

  “I’m sorry—as I said, only those named in the will can be present for the reading. Don’t worry, I’ll keep a very close eye on her,” promised the receptionist.

  “Okay, yes. Thank you so much for watching her.” The older woman’s fingers knitted together nervously as she turned to face the room.

  The woman’s eyes barely had time to scan the faces in the room before Phyllis stood up and bellowed, “Oh, hell no!”

  The woman’s hand shook as it went to her mouth. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Phyllis Habernackle?” she breathed.

  Phyllis wagged a finger in the air at the lawyer. “Oh no, we aren’t doing this with her.”

  Gwyn’s eyes swung in shock down to the other woman seated in the chair. “Char?!”

  Char’s head lolled back on her neck, and her eyes swung up towards the ceiling. “I can’t believe this is happening right now,” she murmured.

  “Did Kat put you two in her will too?” asked Gwyn, slowly lowering her hand.

  “No, we’re here filing a sexual harassment suit against Harvey Weinstein,” snapped Phyllis. “Of course she named us in her will! We were her friends!”

  Gwyn’s spine stiffened. “I was her friend, too.”

  “A hundred years ago, maybe. Where ya been since then?”

  “Raising a family, taking care of my mother. But I always kept in touch with Kat.”

  Char’s arms crossed across her chest as she harrumphed. “Funny. You never kept in touch with us!”

  Gwyn’s eyes narrowed. “Of course not, not after what you did!”

  “After what I did?” An indignant look passed across Char’s face as she sat poised on the edge of her chair, ready to jump to her feet at any second.

  “What you both did,” Gwyn said, pointing her finger between both Phyllis and Char.

  “Ladies,” said Mr. Marlow, putting his palms flat on his desk and pushing himself to his feet.

  “What we did?!” demanded Phyllis, feeling the jittery spike of adrenaline shoot through her limbs. “I certainly didn’t do anything!”

  “Neither did I!” hollered Char.

  It was Gwyn’s turn to cross her arms across her chest. “Oh, I beg to differ. Kat told me exactly what you two did.”

  Mr. Marlow cleared his throat. “Ladies…”

  “Well, Kat told us exactly what you and Loni did!” cried Char without so much as a glance in Mr. Marlow’s direction.

  “Loni and I didn’t do anything!” huffed Gwyn.

  Mr. Marlow looked down at his watch. “Speaking of Ms. Hodges, have any of you heard from her? It’s time we got this meeting going.” He glanced around the room, unsure of which woman to direct his question to.

  It was Char’s turn to stand up then. “Loni’s coming too?”

  Phyllis palmed her forehead and sat down on her chair. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. This is turning into a three-ring circus!”

  Gwyn’s head shook nervously. “I haven’t heard from Loni in a while. I just got to town a few days ago. I’m trying to get us settled into our new place, and I haven’t had time to visit her yet.”

  Char’s neck practically snapped as she turned to regard Gwyn. “Are you telling us you’ve moved back to Aspen Falls?!”

  Gwyn’s jaw tightened as she frowned at her. “Not that it’s any of your business, but, yes, my mother and I just moved here on Sunday.”

  “I can’t believe this,” murmured Char, shaking her head.

  Phyllis clucked her tongue. “I told you I was getting a bad feeling,” she reminded Char. “This! This is why! The devil herself just moved in next door.”

  Char poked a stubby finger into the top of Mr. Marlow’s desk. “Can we just get on with this?”

  Mr. Marlow cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Not without Ms. Hodges.” He reached a hand for the phone. “Perhaps I could give her a call.”

  Char sighed. “That old loon doesn’t answer the phone if she doesn’t recognize the number.”

  Gwyn plopped down in the last of the four chairs, putting a space between her and Phyllis. “Char’s right. Loni is a bit on the paranoid side.”

  “Do you think she’ll show up? We could give her another five or ten minutes if we need to. My next appointment isn’t until ten thirty.”

  Gwyn used her fingertips to knead the sides of her temples as if she were suffering from a headache. “I kind of doubt it. From what I understand, Loni hasn’t left her house in a while.”

  “What’s a while?”

  Gwyn’s head bobbed from side to side. “Oh, the last twenty or thirty years or so,” she said.

  Mr. Marlow smiled. “Surely you’re joking.”

  Char lifted a brow and pursed her lips. “No, that woman’s a recluse. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were more like forty years.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but the will specifically states that you four women must be in each other’s presence when the will is read, and it must be read in my office.”

  “Surely if one of the women is flat-out looney bin nuts, exceptions can be made,” suggested Phyllis.

  He shook his head. “Ms. Lynde was very clear. The four of you must be here together when the will is read. No exceptions, unless of course one of you preceded her in death.”

  Phyllis eyed Gwyn with contempt. “I’m sure arrangements can be made.”

  “Phyllis Habernackle! That is a horrible thing to say!” breathed Gwyn as a hand fluttered to the base of her throat.

  “Oh, don’t go getting your granny panties in a knot, Gwyndolin Prescott,” spat Phyllis. “Why don’t you skedaddle on outta here and get your precious little Yolanda Hodges over here, post haste. I have things to do.”

  Gwyn wrung her hands uncomfortably. “I—I have to go back to work. I just started a new job. I can’t go over there right now.”

  “You still have a job?” clucked Char.

  “Aren’t you a little old to be starting a new job?” asked Phyllis.

  Gwyn looked offended. “There’s nothing wrong with starting a new job at my age.”

  Phyllis wrinkled her nose.

  Gwyn’s light blue eyes swung up to meet Mr. Marlow’s. “I can go visit Loni this evening. We can meet again tomorrow over my lunch break?”

  He slipped on his reading glasses, flipped a page on his desk planner, and picked up a pencil. “Noon?”

  She gave him a curt nod.

  He looked at Char and Phyllis over the top of his glasses. “Noon work for you two?”

  Phyllis groaned as she looked at Char. C
har gave her an almost imperceptible nod. “Fine,” she grumped. “Noon is fine.”

  5

  It was nearly dark by the time Gwyn packed her mother up into her old silver Buick and left the retirement village. The Aspen Falls streetlamps had just begun to flicker on, and a cool spring breeze rode in through her open window, bringing with it the sweet smell of freshly cut grass. Gwyn leaned her head back against the headrest and inhaled the familiar scents deeply before slowly letting the air out of her lungs.

  It was the first time she’d sat down all day. She’d spent the day on her feet, teaching Village residents to macramé plant holders and dream catchers, and all she really wanted to do now was curl up in the bathtub with a good book and a glass of wine. She wished she had the energy to muster up a little more excitement about meeting up with her old friend, Yolanda Hodges, but she was too exhausted. She would have liked to have done this little excursion in a week or two, when she’d gotten back into a routine and had a Saturday afternoon to spend with her old friend.

  Hazel peered out her window as they cruised down a side street. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

  Gwyn glanced up at the street signs. It had been years since the last time she’d been to Aspen Falls. She’d practically been a child back then. In fact, only being in her late teens, she had been the youngest of all of her friends. Not that she’d let that stop her from having just as much fun as the rest of the girls, though. Seeing the familiar landmarks as she drove through town made her smile. The waterfall in the center of town that they’d gone splashing in at midnight on more than one occasion. The kitschy little downtown shops with their colorful awnings and lit window displays hadn’t changed a bit—though the merchandise in the windows had progressed with the times. She cast a sideways glance towards the road that would take her up the hill to the Paranormal Institute for Witches, her alma mater. One day soon, she’d make it a point to pack up her mother and go visit it for old time’s sake. Maybe she’d even find a picture of a younger version of herself on a wall somewhere.

  Then her mind drifted to the Hodgeses’ house. Loni had lived there her entire life, except the two years she left to go to the Institute. She’d begged her parents to let her live on campus so she could have the real college experience. They’d allowed it, and she and Gwyn had been roommates for both years of witch school. Since Gwyn’s family had lived so far away, Gwyn had spent many a holiday and extended weekend at Loni’s house, so she knew the place well.

  With one elbow of her periwinkle-blue cardigan poking out the open window, Gwyn leaned her head against her fingertips while steering with her right hand. “Yes, Mother. I know where I’m going. Loni was my roommate, remember?”

  “Of course I remember that she was your roommate. I might be old and hard of hearing, but I’m not forgetful,” snapped Hazel.

  Gwyn sighed. She really needed that glass of wine. Or three. She looked out the window and watched the familiar scenery pass her. She remembered that big, tall sandstone building on the corner. She and the girls had put a car on top of that building one Halloween night. She smiled to herself as she passed a familiar dilapidated gas station. My goodness, they haven’t done a thing to that place since I left Aspen Falls!

  “Did you call her and tell her we were coming?” asked Hazel.

  “I tried. Loni didn’t answer.”

  Hazel clucked her tongue at her daughter and then turned her head to look back out the window. “Folks don’t like people stopping in unannounced,” she chastised.

  “I don’t have a choice, Mom. She didn’t answer the phone, and I know she doesn’t leave the house.”

  Hazel shrugged. “Don’t be shocked if she’s runnin’ around the house naked as a jaybird, is all I’m saying.”

  Gwyn smiled an amused smile at her mother. “Nothing would shock me when it comes to Loni Hodges. She’s a little bit different.” Gwyn gripped the steering wheel a little bit tighter as she turned down Hemlock Road. Different was an understatement where Loni was concerned. Gwyn didn’t want to be offensive and call her old friend eccentric, but facts were facts, and Loni was eccentric. Gwyn pushed the thoughts aside. Maybe things had changed with Loni, and she’d be normal as the day was long now.

  Gwyn slowed down in front of the last house on Hemlock Road. Loni’s was the very last oversized lot at the end of the dead-end road. A large newly planted cornfield sat just beyond the dead end sign. A narrow dirt-packed alley wound its way behind her house.

  Hazel peered out her window. A solitary streetlamp lit up the otherwise darkened corner, casting an eerie glow across the overgrown weeded lawn. “This is where she lives?” There was skepticism and a hint of fear in Hazel’s voice.

  Gwyn rolled up her window and shut off the car’s engine. “Yep.”

  Hazel’s eyes widened as she sucked in her breath and hunkered down into her seat. “I’m not going in there.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Yes, you are, Mom.”

  Hazel crossed her arms across her chest and jutted her chin out defiantly. “No. I’ll stay out in the car.”

  “I’m not leaving you out in the car. You’ll wander off.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Hazel held on to the seat belt that crossed her chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t make me carry you in, Mother.”

  Hazel’s eyes narrowed as she glowered at her daughter. “You wouldn’t!”

  Without a word, Gwyn shoved her door open, slung her purse over her shoulder, got out of the car, and walked around to her mother’s side. She opened the passenger-side door and unbuckled the old woman’s seat belt. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.” Her tone was authoritative and tight as a plucked guitar string.

  “You’ll throw your back out!” Hazel challenged.

  “I’ve done that before too.”

  Hazel looked past her daughter at the unkempt, rickety old three-story house. “Ghosts live in houses like that.”

  “You’re a witch, Mother. Ghosts don’t scare you.”

  “Houses like that do.”

  “I’m carrying you in,” said Gwyn. She ducked her head down low towards her mother’s lap, preparing to throw her over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

  Hazel swatted at the back of Gwyn’s head. “Oh, for crying out loud, I have two feet. I’ll walk!” When Gwyn pulled her head back, Hazel grabbed hold of the cane that rested in the web of her skirt and touched the concrete curb with the tip of it. Then she smacked her daughter’s legs, just below the knees. “Move, Gwynnie. How am I supposed to get out with you standing over me?”

  “I was going to help you get out.”

  Hazel stuck her free arm out to her daughter. “Well, then, pull, why don’t you?”

  Gwyn pulled, and soon the two women were standing on the sidewalk in front of Loni’s house. A cool gust of air whipped between the trees, making a rustling sound, and an owl hooted ominously in the distance.

  Hazel rubbed her goosefleshed arm. “This place gives me the willies.”

  Gwyn didn’t want to admit that it gave her the willies too, but she knew she didn’t have to admit it. Her mother was likely reading her mind as they stood there.

  She led her mother to the wooden porch. The paint on the balusters, which had at one point been a pristine white, was now flaking off, and in some spots they were bare right down to the wood grain. The entire porch leaned towards the street and slightly to the left. If a big windstorm came, it could likely take the porch with it in one big gust. Old newspapers and soggy, misshapen cardboard boxes littered one end of the porch, and the other end was mounded with split firewood. Next to the front door sat a faded wicker chair with a floral pad covered in clumps of cat hair. Three bowls filled with cat food were placed in various empty spots around the garbage. An old dog leash was tied to one of the tall columns, but no dog lay on the other end. The screen door hung from its last hinge, and the screen was torn and fray
ed in three spots. Gwyn remembered when Loni’s folks had still been alive. Her father had kept the place in tip-top shape, so it saddened her to see what the years of no maintenance had done to the once remarkable home.

  “No lights on,” remarked Hazel. “No one’s home. Let’s go.” She turned on the stairs to go back to the car.

  Gwyn caught her arm and scowled at her mother. She’d had it. She pointed at the leash. “Don’t make me chain you to the porch.”

  Hazel squinted her eyes and sneered at her daughter. “You wouldn’t.”

  Gwyn lifted one pale eyebrow. “Try me.”

  Hazel let out a puh sound but didn’t move.

  Gwyn helped her mother across the porch to the front door. Keeping one hand firmly on Hazel’s back, she knocked with the other hand. She waited a few seconds and didn’t hear anything, so she knocked again. No answer. Gwyn started to get worried. What if something happened to Loni? She pointed to the wicker chair. “Sit, Mother.”

  Hazel’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m not sitting on that!”

  “Don’t move, then!” ordered Gwyn. She let go of Hazel’s arm and stepped carefully over the old boxes and newspapers, keeping an eye out on the dimly lit porch for animals hidden amongst the rubbish. She got closer to the picture window and cupped her hands to peer into the glass. A curtain hung on the other side of the glass, ruining her view of the interior. Darn it, she thought. Just as she started to walk away, she thought that she caught a glimpse of a tiny bit of the curtain swaying. Did that just move? She peered in the window again, and this time, she heard something inside the house. She knocked on the glass. “Loni! Is that you?”

  Gwyn stepped back over the garbage and went to the door and knocked again. “I saw something move,” she said to her mother.

  Hazel stood in front of the chair with both hands resting on the knob of her cane. “It was probably a ghost. I told you this place was haunted!”

  “It had to have been Loni.” She pounded on the door again. “Loni! Open up. It’s Gwyn Prescott!”