A Broom With a View

by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  And the place looked good, too. Mode had chastised her, saying that she didn’t really know what hard work was, that she used her magic to do all the little mundane things she didn’t like, like clearing the dishes. But her building’s beauty had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with good old-fashioned hard work and elbow grease. Her wood floors looked brand new from the wax she’d gently applied to them, her windows glistened with Windex, and the air was fragrant with the scent of warm vanilla and cinnamon from the candles she’d artfully placed throughout the downstairs.

  Liza stopped twirling and bit her bottom lip, suddenly giving in to a bout of nerves. She was anxious, that was true. Her stomach did a flop and gurgled as a reminder. She’d spent part of the morning in the bathroom, trying to get herself together. Everything was ready and she knew that she was good at what she did, even if she hadn’t actually done it professionally for several years, but she wanted to make a good impression on everyone. The people from the week before had been pleased with her work and many of them had already re-booked appointments with her but still…

  If this didn’t work for her, if she couldn’t make it in Kudzu Valley, she didn’t know where she’d go. Everything she had was there.

  “Oh, screw yourself Modey,” she muttered, trying to get the image of his condescending smirk out of her mind.

  And because she wanted to make a good impression and was never completely satisfied with herself and what she did, Liza raised her arms high in the air and waved them back and forth in tiny circles. In the blink of an eye, the floors changed from smooth and clean to actually sparkling and the decorative throw pillows on the vintage settee in her waiting area plumped themselves.

  Sometimes it was good for the morale to assure herself she still had the gift and could use it when needed.

  Of course, the trouble with the magical cleaning was that it wouldn’t last. It was an allusion, more or less, and couldn’t possibly hold once her attention and focus were turned elsewhere. Still, it tickled her to be able to do it at all and for a moment, at least, her stomach settled down.

  To be on the safe side, she popped another Tums.

  ***

  Thanks for taking me in at the last minute.” Taffeta “Taffy” Cornfoot’s muffled voice rose from the bed she was lying face down on.

  It was already 5:00 pm, and starting to get dark. Liza had noticed right away that it got darker faster in the mountains, like the hills blocked out the sun and cast it away once it was finished with it. Taffy, County Court Clerk and a grandmother to sixteen, had waltzed through the door ten minutes before Liza had planned on closing.

  “I know I don’t have an appointment but Patsy came in the office this afternoon just bragging about the massage you did on her and she just looked so relaxed.”

  Taffy lowered her voice then and glanced quickly around the room, her eyes darting to all the corners to ensure nobody was hidden in the shadows, listening. “And believe me, making that woman relaxed is nothing short of a miracle. I should know. I’ve known her for forty-seven years.”

  Liza, herself, remembered the other woman’s bossiness, critical appraisal of everything she’d done to the place, complaints about the music and candle scents…until Liza had started working on her. Her tune had changed real fast then.

  It might have had something to do with the bit of lavender oil she’d rubbed into her and the lemon balm she’d slipped under the sheet by Patsy’s head and feet. By the time Patsy left, she’d all but swooned out the front door, her eyes dopey and her doughy body languid.

  Now Taffy, who’d spent ten minutes reciting the minutes from the town’s last Rotary Club meeting in case Liza was interested in joining, was quiet and still under the modesty sheet.

  Liza worked on her callused feet, puffy and swollen, and felt sympathy whenever she felt the other woman tremble slightly from the touch. She’d learned Taffy was diabetic and suffered from a lot of nerve pain. Her hypertension caused massive edema in her knees and feet and it almost pained Liza to touch them.

  “But I’m still gonna work,” Taffy had declared as she filled out the medical questionnaire. “I know some of these women can’t wait to file Disability and get their money from the government but I ain’t one of ‘em. I will work until they roll my cold, dead body out of that court house. “

  Now, Liza tried to imagine a big ball of light, bright and warm. She closed her eyes and could see it there, just on the back of her eyelids. It was brilliant, like the sun, and radiated heat that sent waves all the way down to her toes. She brought forth a healing chant her grandmother had sometimes used when Liza’s legs bothered her as a child.

  “Growing pains” they’d called them back then.

  When Liza opened her eyes, the ball of light was in the center of the room, hovering over Taffy’s body. Liza let it glide up and down the woman’s height, from the top of her head to her toes, taking time to pause at painful and inflamed joints and muscles along the way. Although it warmed her and soothed her aches, it never quite touched her, always stopping before it made contact with flesh. Once it had circled around twice, Liza murmured a few soft words and it disappeared, dissipating into the shadowy room and leaving nothing behind but some smoke tendrils.

  Half an hour later, Taffy was all but flowing on her feet and walking much easier than she had when she’d entered the building. “I don’t know how you did it but you did more for me than any of those pain medicines and nonsense do that they give me at the doctor.”

  “Oh, just what I learned in school,” Liza said with a wave of her hand.

  Taffy narrowed her eyes. “I suspect it’s more than that but I’ll let that go. For now.”

  Liza walked Taffy to the door, unlocked it, and then paused. “Look, I don’t want to overstep my bounds or anything but my grandmother was a diabetic and there were some things she used that helped with the swelling and some of the nerve pain. They’re natural, but of course I’d need to make sure that they don’t interact with any of the other medications you might take. That is, if you’re interested,” she added in a hurry.

  Taffy nodded. “I surely am. I’d rather stick with the stuff that comes from the roots and trees than that crap they make up in a science lab. What you got?”

  So Liza spent the next thirty minutes getting to do what she really loved but hadn’t been able to do in a very long time–talk about herbal healing. She went over essential oils and carrying oils, pointed out herbs, explained the steps to creating a tincture…

  The longer she talked, and the more interested Taffy appeared, the more pleasure Liza felt balling up in her stomach. She was afraid she’d be rusty when the time came, since she’d had no use for any of it in years, but the opposite was true–she felt more confident than ever.

  “You certainly do know your stuff,” Taffy remarked as Liza bagged her items. Liza, for her part, was glad she’d let Taffy stay when she walked in unscheduled. “Did somebody teach you?”

  Liza paused, a sampler box of oils in her hand. She was surprised to feel tears prickling at her eyes. Perhaps the day had been more exhausting than she’d thought.

  “It was my grandmother at first,” she explained as she attempted to gather her composure before she embarrassed herself in front of a customer. “We only came down here a few times when I was growing up but I was always fascinated by her garden and what she called her ‘medicine room.’ I’d ask a ton of questions, probably pestered her to death.”

  “Oh, shew,” Taffy scoffed, patting Liza on the hand. “That’s what grandmothers like. Did she teach you then?”

  “A little. They came up to see us a lot, once they figured out Mom had no intentions of coming back. I went through a stage where I didn’t care at all and didn’t want to know anything about it, but then it turned around again in high school. She was a good teacher,” Liza said simply. “She knew what she was doing.”

  “That she did, that she did,” Taffy murmured in agreement. “Did you do any formal s
tudying?”

  Liza nodded. “I did, actually. I couldn’t find a college program that I liked so I went pre-med. I figured I would need to know about western medicine, too, and those classes gave me all the science and biology I was lacking. I interned for a naturopathic doctor in Boston for a year and loved it. But I didn’t graduate.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?” Taffy’s cheeks turned bright pink then and she lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. That was nosy and rude of me. I am a nosy and rude old woman.”

  Liza laughed. “No, it’s okay. Just embarrassing. No big story or anything; I just met my husband, fell in love, got married, and that was the end of my own personal life for a very long time.”

  Taffy nodded, understanding clouding her eyes. “It’s very hard to be a woman sometimes. I don’t think a man can ever realize how much we give up, even when it’s not necessary to let it go. When a woman has committed herself to a family, and I don’t just mean children but to the idea of belonging to something she has to nurture, she can never truly belong to herself again. She can’t turn that little button off inside her head. Men are different.”

  “You got that right,” Liza agreed, but she was taken aback by Taffy’s words–words she strongly identified with. For years she’d done little for herself, other than getting the massage license she only briefly used and the job at the nonprofit that she’d lost during the separation.

  Mode had been able to keep his career, leaving her alone for weeks at a time, indulging in his hobbies (some of which were blond haired and blue eyed) and having a completely separate life apart from their marriage.

  She hadn’t been able to.

  That worry, that constant need to make their house just right, to keep their marriage fresh and exciting, to take care of his emotional and physical needs…those things had overpowered her.

  “Hey Taffy?” Liza asked suddenly as she handed Taffy her bag of purchased items. “Did you ever roll over in bed, first thing in the morning, and look at your husband and feel totally disgusted? Like, the first thing that goes through your mind is, ‘I’d kill you right now and take myself on a three-week cruise through the Bahamas with the insurance money if it weren’t for the fact we’re laying on the nice sheets I just bought and I don’t want to ruin them’? Do you ever feel like that?”

  Taffy grinned and patted Liza on the hand. With a twinkle in her eye she leaned in close and replied, “All the time, dear. All the time.”

  ***

  When the doors were locked, the towels and sheets gathered from the laundry basket and bagged up to be taken home and washed, and all the candles blown out Liza Jane did a little happy dance across the floor.

  “I survived my first official day!” she sang, doing a little jump in the air and clicking her heels together. When she missed the landing and ended up sprawled on her bottom she just laughed and laid back on the floor.

  As she’d known it would, the wood had lost its luminosity as soon as the first customer had arrived and she’d busied herself with them. But it didn’t matter; they still looked and smelled good.

  “I am a business owner,” she proudly told the ceiling, though it didn’t appear to be impressed.

  She was disappointed, of course, that she’d spent her opening day alone, without the presence of any loved ones. Her mother could have come down. For that matter, her sister could’ve come as well. It may have only been a couple of rooms in an old building where she gave massages and facials and sold herbs but it was still a big deal to her.

  She’d known nothing about running a business going into it and had spent months studying books and websites and teaching herself the ins and outs of bookkeeping and marketing.

  Liza felt pretty darned pleased with herself.

  It was late, however, and she needed to get home. Liza picked herself up off the floor, dusted her bottom, did one last walk-through to make sure everything looked okay, and grabbed her purse and keys.

  She couldn’t wait to get to the house, make herself a hot chocolate (with a dash of Bailey’s because she’d earned it) and slip into bed. She already had four appointments scheduled for the next day, although the day after just had a facial so far. She was a little concerned but hoped that word of mouth would eventually help bring her a steady clientele. It would be Christmas soon and some of the businesses in Kudzu Valley were having holiday open houses. She planned on having a big “Grand Opening Holiday Open House” then and would be prepared to mingle, network, hold a raffle, put out cookies, and whatever else it was she had to do to get people to walk through her door and spend their money.

  Oh, but Christmas. Liza groaned to herself as she locked the door and gave it a test tug.

  What the hell am I going to do for Christmas, she thought as she headed to her car. I won’t be so pathetic that I will eat alone. She’d already done that for Thanksgiving.

  Her mind was still pondering the Christmas predicament when felt she something behind her. Nothing had made a sound, and nothing had moved at all, but Liza was still aware of it. The presence of someone who didn’t need to be there tickled at the back of her neck, giving her what her grandmother had called “the willies.”

  Liza didn’t pause or quicken her pace, but she did become more alert and aware of her surroundings. She’d parked behind the building, in a gravel lot that ran the length of the street and faced the river. Christabel was the only vehicle. Key in hand and ready, without removing her purse from her shoulder she undid the lock and jumped inside in one swift movement.

  With the door locked, the engine started, and her headlights on she turned off the “woman” part of her and turned on the “witch.”

  Other than the spotlight her headlights made in one spot on the old brick at the back of the buildings, the whole length of the street was dark. The moon, hidden by the clouds, offered no illumination and the streetlights only faced the road out front. The shadows were dark and murky.

  Liza saw him then, a man. He wasn’t hiding, exactly, but he wasn’t doing anything to make his presence known either. The tall, figure leaned against a dumpster, the bottom half of him lost in the darkness. He was looking at her, she could feel that, and it made her uneasy.

  “Don’t be paranoid,” she warned herself. “This is his town, you’re a newcomer, and Kudzu Valley is not a violent place. You’re too used to being in the big city.”

  Her words did little to settle her nerves, however, because she knew that he’d had impure intentions towards her when he’d seen her. She could feel them even now, radiating from him like radio waves and traveling the distance between them until they closed in on her.

  Jerking back a little, Liza fought to remain control. There was a stickiness about the hatred and anger he projected at her. He didn’t just dislike her, she repulsed him.

  But why?

  Closing her hand around the talisman her grandmother had given her many years ago, and one that rode in the front seat with her at all times, Liza sent her mind out to him, seeking answers. She got nothing in return but a fiery black wall, palpitating with heat and frustration.

  Sometimes she wasn’t able to see anything, especially when it concerned something personal to her. That was a sad fact about her “gift”–she never seemed to be able to help herself much.

  But while she might not have been able to make any sense out of why he was there and what he wanted, she was able to see his face. The smooth complexion, except for the ruddy mole on his cheek, shockingly red hair, hefty build, and the “Will Work for Weed” T-shirt that was partly hidden behind his flannel coat could only belong to one person.

  Cotton Hashagen.

  But that made zero sense. Cotton was just a librarian. Sure, they’d had a tiff during her first few days but he would’ve been over that by now, right?

  He wouldn’t hurt her. He had no reason to.

  Chapter Six

  LIZA FELL BACK against the wall in her treatment room and tried desperately to get herself together for what felt lik
e the fifth time.

  “The sheets too? Did it have to be the sheets?”

  She’d ordered those sheets from Macy’s website. They’d cost $135, more than twice what the sheets on her own bed cost. She’d loved them so much that when she’d first opened them to put them on her massage table, she’d pressed her face against them, marveling in their softness.

  Now they were ripped to shreds and hanging artfully over the privacy screen in the corner of the room.

  Her business was completely trashed, from corner to corner. Nothing had been left untouched.

  Well, at least on the first floor anyway. Whoever had done it had apparently not had time to make it upstairs.

  The woman in Liza wanted to drop to the floor and cry and cry. Nothing of value had been stolen. After all, there wasn’t much street value in aromatherapy candles. It had been a personal attack.

  The witch in Liza wanted to go apeshit and fly through the roof and seek revenge. How dare someone come in and upset something she’d worked so hard for?

  Liza knew that with some careful thoughts and planning and with the right tools and a whole lot of energy she could have everything back together in a matter of hours. Well, most everything anyway. The things she knew how to fix.

  Part of her wanted to go ahead and do that. Wanted to go ahead and make everything right so that she wouldn’t have to stand there and look at the mess and could continue on with business as usual.

  And then, after she closed, she’d march home to her altar, see who was responsible for it, and throw something so hard at them that they wouldn’t know which end was up for the rest of the month.

  But that wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. She needed to go through the proper channels. She needed to treat this the same way anyone else would.

  In resignation, Liza pulled out her phone and began dialing the police.