by Lucy May
“Lila, what are you doing here?” he shouted.
I followed him back down the industrial stairs, very glad we didn’t have to go to the top.
“I saw your car out front,” she yelled back.
We descended the stairs to find Lila standing there.
“Oh, Violet, you’re here too,” she said, in that high-pitched voice.
“Hi, Lila.”
“Why are you here?” he asked again.
“Harold, don’t shout at me,” she scolded. “I wanted to see what you found. Anything interesting?”
“Lila, you know I can’t share details of an ongoing investigation.”
That seemed to make her nervous. “Really? There is an investigation? What do you think happened? I heard the man was one of those supernatural investigators.”
“That’s the story.”
“Did they find anything? I mean, was there anything supernatural?” she prodded.
Harold looked down at his feet, shuffling nervously.
“Did they?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. I don’t really believe in that stuff.”
Lila smiled. “Well I don’t think you have to believe something for it to be real.”
He looked at her as if she was crazy. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard, Lila.”
“I think it’s only fair that we should know if we have ghosts among us. Don’t you, Violet?”
I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know if there were ghosts among us. I studied Lila. Something was off. She was lying. Lila wasn’t afraid of ghosts. She was one of my mother’s best friends and everyone knew my mother had a very fond appreciation for the spirit world. Lila looked anxious.
Harold looked back and forth between Lila and me before throwing his hands up in the air. “Violet, I’d appreciate you sticking around for a couple days while we get this all sorted out.”
“Sheriff,” I started to protest, but was interrupted by Lila.
“Your mother will be thrilled to hear that,” she said with a huge smile on her face.
“Why?” I glared at the law enforcement officer who wouldn’t meet my eyes.
He cleared his throat. “There’s something going on here, and I have a gut feeling you are involved.”
“What?” I asked, horrified. “Are you crazy!”
Lila smiled and patted my arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie, it will all work out. Harold is only being cautious.”
The man refused to meet my eyes. I’m sure he could have felt my anger radiating off me. I was furious.
“Lila, can you give me a ride?” I asked, staring at Harold until he finally looked at me. “Is that okay or am I under arrest or something?”
“No, you’re not. I’ll be in touch,” he promised.
Lila and I walked out of the factory. Her little green Volkswagen Beetle was parked next to the sheriff’s truck.
“What was that all about?” I asked once we were on our way back to my car.
“What, dear?” Lila asked innocently.
“Why did you come out to the factory and what do you know about the man that was killed?”
“I don’t know anything, dear. I was only curious,” she said, in that sing-song voice of hers.
I didn’t believe her. “You don’t go out to an active crime scene because you are curious, Lila.”
She lifted one of her dainty shoulders. “You know how I like to keep up with what happens around here.”
I let it drop, but something felt off. As soon as Lila dropped me off at my car, I called Tara.
“Hi,” I said, frustration evident in my voice.
“You’re not coming back tomorrow are you?”
“No. Hopefully, the following day. Things are a little confusing here.”
“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good.”
I sighed. “No, not really. I really don’t know what I can do, but it’s probably best that I’m here.”
“I can handle the bakery. Don’t worry about it. Spend some time with your mom. Think of this as a weekend away. I hear normal people do that,” she joked.
I groaned at her attempt at humor. “Thank you. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what’s going on. Hopefully, this will all be taken care of by then.”
Once back at my grandmother’s house, I gave myself a little tour, walking through each room and reminiscing. When I pushed open the door to her room, it took my breath away. Her big four-poster bed was right where it always had been.
“Oh Grams,” I whispered, as I walked into the room, towards her large dresser with her various bottles on the top.
Everything looked just the way she left it. I missed her dearly. A cold breeze brushed across my neck. I spun around, feeling as if someone was behind me. There was no one there. I shook off the feeling and headed back downstairs to pop in one of the microwave dinners my mom had brought me earlier.
Chapter 4
I spent the better half of the morning, roaming through the big house. I had called Tara to check on business and was assured it was a typical Wednesday, slow and boring. We chatted for a few minutes before she had to go. Then I was left all alone in the big house.
Wide awake, I had nothing to do. No matter how hard I had tried, I hadn’t been able to sleep in. I was a baker. Bakers rose with the sun. I had owned my own bakery for five years and had an internal alarm clock with no snooze button.
I quickly grew tired of the boredom and decided to go grab a cup of coffee at the coffee shop. Hungry and in need of real caffeine, I needed something stronger than the tea my mom had put in my little care package.
When I walked into Crooked Coffee, I was relieved to see it was empty, so I could enjoy my coffee in peace. I ordered a muffin as well. I always liked to check out the competition, even if this little shop wasn’t really competition for my own bakery several hours away.
I sipped my coffee and took a bite of the muffin. It was good, really good. The door opened and I looked up just in time to see Lila come through the door. Crap.
“Violet! There you are! I just went by the house looking for you. Coral, she’s here,” the woman yelled out the door.
I waited, wondering just what was going on. Why would they be looking for me?
“What’s the matter?” I asked, almost dreading to find out why they needed me so badly.
Lila plopped down. “It’s your mom.”
I was instantly on alert. “What about my mom?”
Coral waved at me with her fingers and pulled another chair up to my tiny table.
“Hi, Violet. It’s so good to see you. You look gorgeous, so much like your mama.”
I anxiously nodded. “Thank you, but what’s wrong with my mom?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong with her,” Lila clarified. “It’s what may happen.”
I closed my eyes and counted to three. “What may happen?”
Coral and Lila exchanged a look, before Coral answered. “She’s talking to Harold, and he isn’t being too kind.”
Lila guffawed. “Too kind? The man is like a dog with a bone. He just won’t let it go.”
“Why is he talking to Mom, and what won’t he let go of?”
Coral cleared her throat. “Maybe we can go back to your place and talk about this?” she asked, looking around the empty shop as if she was worried we were being watched.
“Oh, Coral, nobody’s listening. You’re so paranoid,” Lila countered.
Coral smoothed her perfectly coifed blonde hair with one hand. “I’m not paranoid. I’m careful. You should try it sometime. It would probably keep us out of this kind of trouble!” she hissed through the tight smile plastered on her face.
“Fine. Grandma’s house. Let’s go,” I jumped up, pushing the chair back so fast it hit the back of the chair behind it.
“What a splendid idea,” Coral said. “I’ll grab a couple of coffees and be right there,” she said, clacking across the floor in her heels.
Thank
fully, it was only a five-minute drive to the house, so I didn’t have to wait too long to find out what was happening. I waited on the front porch for Lila and Coral, who were apparently taking their own sweet time. I wasn’t surprised they were together. My mother and her friends were always together. The only one we were missing was Magnolia, and I half-expected her to be waiting for me at the house.
When the women finally pulled up in front of the house, I was a little anxious. My mom and I weren’t exactly close, but I still loved her and worried about her.
Coral carefully walked up the stairs to the porch in her heels. The color looked to be a perfect match to her purple pantsuit. The woman was always meticulously dressed and a true southern belle. I knew it to be a carefully cultivated image and had never questioned why she was insistent on presenting herself to the world like that.
“Please tell me what’s going on,” I said, not giving them time to start bickering about anything. I’d been around these women my entire life, and they were more like aunts than friends. They were also more like sisters than friends to each other, and as such, bickered constantly.
Lila sat down and patted my knee. “Harold has it in his head that your mom knows something about that man dying in the factory.”
“Why would my mom know anything?”
Coral and Lila exchanged a look. I waited, impatient for the story.
Smoothing her hair once again, Coral finally cleared her throat. “Your mother has access to the factory.”
I nodded, “And?”
“Harold is convinced she knows more than she is saying. He spoke with her before you showed up and we thought it was over, but he called her in again this morning.”
“Why?”
“Well, your mother didn’t exactly hide her irritation over the fact that those men were sniffing around Lemon Bliss,” Lila said.
“The supernatural hunters or investigators or whatever?” I asked, struggling to follow along with the conversation. The women could really use a lesson in how to carry on a conversation with clarity.
Coral and Lila nodded. “Yes,” they said in unison.
I stared at them, waiting for them to explain. Gosh, it was like pulling teeth to get real information from them. Lila ran her mouth about anyone and everything all day, every day, but now, when I actually wanted to hear what she knew, she clammed up on me.
“Okay, let me sum this up and then hopefully one of you can fill in the blanks for me, because right now I am very confused. So, some supernatural investigators have been in town investigating,” I paused. “What were they investigating? I think Harold told me a coven. Is that true?”
The women exchanged a look before Coral nodded her head. “Yes.”
“Okay, so they were here looking into a coven and my mom didn’t like it. They somehow ended up at the factory, which my mom has access to. One dies and Harold thinks my mother did it. Is that the story?” I asked, frustration making me very cranky.
“Yes!” they both said, excitedly.
“Why does Harold think my mother would actually hurt a person for investigating a coven that isn’t even real?” I refused to believe what Lila had mentioned the day before. I knew it was nonsense.
They both shrugged their shoulders. It was Coral that finally answered. “We couldn’t truly say, which is why we are concerned. Did he mention anything about evidence to you?”
“No. Nothing at all, but we didn’t have a chance to talk much before Lila showed up,” I said, not even bothering to keep the annoyance out of my tone.
Coral turned to Lila, “You went out there?” she hissed.
“I wanted to see what he was looking for or if he found anything,” she said, in a shushed voice.
“Do I need to worry that my mother is in some kind of real trouble?” I asked, heading off what was sure to be another spate of bickering between the two.
Neither of them answered me right away, which told me everything I needed to know.
“I guess I should go down to the sheriff’s office. Maybe I should see about getting my mother a lawyer,” I said out loud, but more to myself.
“Oh dear!” Lila exclaimed. “I don’t think it’s that serious.”
“It’s not? Isn’t that why you’re here?” I shot back.
Coral’s lips were set in a grim line, and Lila looked shocked and very worried. I stood up, ready to leave, just as my mother’s electric Prius pulled up.
“Virginia!” Lila and Coral said in unison.
I looked at them and seriously wondered if the two shared a brain. There was a very strange connection between the two of them. It was like they could read one another’s thoughts.
The three of us stood there and watched as my mother got out of her car. Her long purple skirt flowed behind her as her charm bracelets tinkled with her movement.
“Hello, ladies,” she greeted us with a friendly smile. “I didn’t expect to find you all here.”
“We were worried about you,” Coral explained.
“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” my mom said, waving a hand through the air. The top she was wearing reminded me of something from the seventies. It was probably one of my grandmother’s old shirts I decided, taking in the purple and green paisley print with silver thread outlining the patterns.
“I’m fine,” she said, stepping onto the porch. “I could use some water, though.”
I unlocked the front door and headed inside to do her bidding. When I came back, the three women were huddled together, talking in low voices. It was evident that they were upset about something.
“What’s going on?” I asked, handing my mother the water.
“Oh nothing, dear. I was just telling the girls about Harold and his silly questions,” my mom answered, waving a bejeweled hand through the air.
I had never known my mother not to wear jewelry. It all looked like costume jewelry to me, but she insisted on wearing gobs of rings, charm bracelets and clunky necklaces all the time, even when we were at home. It was how I’d always known her and I didn’t question it now.
“Why does Harold—Sheriff Smith—think you know something about that man’s death?” I asked, not interested in beating around the bush.
She shrugged one of her dainty shoulders. “He’s only doing his job.”
“The girls told me you were upset about the man researching a coven. Why would that bother you?”
She looked at her friends and then at me. “We don’t need unwanted attention. Lemon Bliss is a small town. We like to keep our business to ourselves.”
“Who exactly is we?” I asked.
Once again, Lila and Coral looked uncomfortable.
“Why, all of us my dear,” my mother answered, as if it was obvious.
I sat down in one of the chairs on the porch, my mother sat in my grandmother’s rocking chair while Lila and Coral sat side by side on the porch swing. “Why would a supernatural investigator be interested in Lemon Bliss, Louisiana?”
Lila smiled. Coral looked as if she was hoping the earth would swallow her up, and my mother looked far too serious.
“Rumors, I suppose. According to Harold, the surviving investigator claimed to be chasing some leads, which are really nothing more than exaggerated tales,” my mother explained.
“What kind of rumors? Obviously, they held enough weight for these men to come out here.”
My mother smiled. “It’s all really just a bunch of nonsense. If your grandmother were here, she could explain it all so much better. A long time ago, there were rumors about a group of witches living in Lemon Bliss. The witches were blamed for some of the strange happenings around town. You know how rumors are, sometimes they live forever based on nothing.”
My gaze focused on Lila. She nervously squirmed on the bench seat of the swing.
“Mom, why did Lila tell me she was a witch and ask me when I was going to join the coven?”
Coral gasped. My mother’s head practically spun around as she stared at Lila, whose
mouth opened and closed like a fish, with no words coming out.
Chapter 5
I waited for my mother to answer me, as Coral was shooting daggers at Lila with her eyes. I had managed to make all the women speechless which had to be some kind of first.
“Violet, I’m not sure why Lila said that,” my mother said, looking at her friend before looking back at me. “However, she did say it and I think it’s time we had a talk. Ladies, would you excuse us please?” she said, standing and opening the front door.
I stood and followed her into the house. I could hear Coral laying into Lila before the door closed behind me. Lila was in trouble. I felt a little bad for causing her this difficulty, but if she hadn’t wanted me to repeat that little tidbit of information, she shouldn’t have mentioned it.
“Sit, please,” my mom ordered, taking a seat in one of the antique armchairs.
I sat on the sofa, facing her. Outside, through the large window facing the porch, I could see Lila and Coral in a heated discussion. I turned my attention to my mother and could see she was struggling.
“Just tell me,” I encouraged.
She took a deep breath. “Your grandmother was a very special woman, as was her mother and so on.”
I nodded my head, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before.
“She was a witch. Not in the way that is often portrayed in the books and fairytales. She was a practicing witch with an affinity for spells. They were powerful, good witches,” she stressed.
“Mom,” I started to interrupt.
She held up a hand. “I’m a witch as well. It is an inherited trait that has been passed down to the women in our family for many, many generations.”
“What?” I asked, blinking my eyes and feeling a little stunned.
“Your grandmother was the head of our local coven. Well, she became the head when the other family gave up their rights, but that’s a story for another time,” she waved her hand in the air. “When I became of age, I took my place as the head of the coven.”
