by Nic Saint
Suddenly Ginger took her by the shoulders. “You’re just not cut out for the service industry, Edelie. Maybe you should try something where you can stay behind the scenes? Where people don’t have to look at your sad face all day?” She nodded when Edelie frowned. “You have a very sad face.”
“I do not,” she protested, though a little bit too feebly.
“Yes, you do. You make me feel sad just watching you.”
She stared at James, who was mouthing, ‘You don’t have a sad face.’
She flashed a brief grin at the guy. Maybe he should be manager here and then she could come back and work for him. She’d like that. He seemed nice.
“Trust me,” Ginger continued, “this hurts me more than it hurts you.”
“I kinda doubt it,” she muttered.
Finally Ginger released her, the lecture over. So she picked up her backpack, and looked around the small coffee shop one last time, then strode out. She’d worked here for over a year, and the place had grown on her. Apart from Ginger being Ginger, she’d had some good times here, especially when she’d been able to experiment in the kitchen and briefly feel like Jamie Oliver. And as she closed the door, she saw that Ginger was giving her a pinkie wave, then gestured to her own face, pulled down into a sad face. Yeah, yeah, she thought. Rub my nose in it, will you? So she stepped out and remembered that saying about one door closing and another door opening.
If only she knew which door that might be she might feel a little less sad.
Chapter 26
Ernestine was crunching the numbers again, her face screwed up in concentration. Part of her job as a legal secretary was making sure that the billable hours added up, and she was just going over Spear’s most recent numbers when the man himself strode into her office, looking a little grim.
She smiled up at him. As the son of the firm’s founder and partner, a big weight had descended upon Spear’s shoulders when he’d agreed to follow in his father’s footsteps, and she’d always felt he did a great job. Unlike his old man, who was a curmudgeon, Spear was a nice person and a great boss.
He now took a seat in front of her and stared at her for a long time without speaking. She grew a little nervous under his intent stare.
He was a handsome man with movie star good looks, at thirty-two a very eligible bachelor. For a lawyer, he wore his curly brown hair just a little bit too long, and his lips were just a little bit too full to look like a legal shark.
“What’s wrong?” she finally asked, giving him her full attention.
“You,” Spear said shortly.
“Me? What do you mean?”
“There’s been a complaint.”
“A complaint?” Her mind instantly shot back to yesterday, when she’d had that awkward scene with Mr. Bloom.
“I talked to Lyndon Bloom this morning. Had to get his permission to share details from the interview you had with him with the cops. He was kind enough to grant us permission, but he also told me something very worrying.”
She gulped a little, remembering how Lyndon had practically run out.
“He told me you behaved very strangely yesterday.”
Even if she’d wanted to speak, she couldn’t, as she sat frozen in her seat.
“I saw you myself, Ernestine, and I noticed the same look that Lyndon was complaining about. He called it, quote, homicidal and maniacal, unquote.”
She swallowed. “I—I was just trying to make a good impression.”
“I didn’t see maniacal and homicidal, Ernestine,” Spear said. “All I saw was you trying very hard to offer excellent service to an important client and a client who obviously didn’t appreciate that service.” He adjusted his jacket. “When I listened to the interview just now, my suspicions were confirmed.”
“You listened to the interview?”
She’d forgotten all interviews were recorded for legal reasons, so neither party could accuse the other party of saying things that had never been said.
“Yes, I did, and do you know what I heard?”
She shook her head, staring at her boss and expecting the worst.
“I heard an employee asking all the right questions, and doing exactly what she was supposed to do, making Boodle, Jag, Lack & Noodle proud.”
“Thank you, Spear,” she said hesitantly. The specter of dismissal was still hovering over her, she knew, but it now seemed unlikely the ax would fall.
Spear sighed. “However, since the client is always right, what I think doesn’t matter one iota. I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go, Ernestine.” He put his hand on his heart. “Which pains me greatly, I might add.”
Her face fell, and so did her mood. “Oh,” was all she managed to say.
“Lyndon Bloom is a very important guy in this town and a very important client to this firm, and we can’t afford to antagonize him, and at this moment he seems hell-bent on seeing you dismissed from this firm so dismiss you we must.” He folded his hands. “But I want to tell you not to be discouraged, Ernestine. I know you as a very conscientious employee, and I’m sure that other opportunities will open up for you in the near future.”
“Thank you, Spear,” she said in a low voice.
“And contrary to Lyndon’s wishes, I’m going to give you a glowing letter of recommendation.”
And as he stood, she, too, rose to her feet. Her face suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time, and her heart was beating way too fast. Being fired felt an awful lot like being kicked in the gut, the most horrible thing about the experience the sheer humiliation and feeling she’d failed as a human being.
In spite of Spear’s words she suddenly felt smaller than a microbe and worth about as much as an amoeba. She looked up when Spear took her hand and shook it warmly. “I’m sorry, Ernestine,” he said, and she could tell his apology was heartfelt. “I’m truly sorry.”
Then he was gone, and so was she. Her first job, and perhaps her last. Because in spite of Spear’s words she knew it would be hard to come back from this. What law firm would hire her after being fired from this one?
Chapter 27
They met on the subway, which was quite a coincidence.
Edelie saw her sister slouching past and was surprised to find Ernestine looking about as downcast as she was feeling. Of course, for her this demeanor was normal, but for proud Ernestine it was quite a departure from her usual look of self-confidence which sometimes bordered on the arrogant.
“Hey, Stien!” she called out when her sister walked past.
Ernestine slowly looked up, and when she saw her sister’s sad face, her own sad face became even sadder.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I just got fired. You?”
Ernestine nodded. “Same here.”
They stood side by side, two shell-shocked people amongst a seething mass of New Yorkers waiting for the next subway train, staring before them like two zombies waiting for the next brain on legs to heave into view.
“Strel called,” Edelie said, suddenly remembering her sister’s phone call.
“Oh?” Ernestine asked mutedly and without the faintest interest.
“She said Gran is now locking her door and entertaining male visitors.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
They both seemed to share the view that the world had come to an end and that this little bit of bad news was simply par for the course.
“Spear said he was sorry.”
“Ginger wasn’t. She said I have a sad face.”
“Said if it were up to him I’d still have a job.”
“She said just looking at my face made her sad, too.”
“Of course it doesn’t make a hoot of difference.”
“It’s my face. I can’t change it.”
Ernestine looked up. “I like your face.”
“Thanks. I like yours.”
“Lyndon Bloom didn’t. He said I’m maniacal and homicidal.”
“I don’t think you’re
homicidal, Stien. I would have noticed if you were.”
Ernestine sighed and voiced the question that had been going through Edelie’s own mind since her dismissal. “What are we going to do now?”
“Beats me.”
“All three of us are out of a job, and Gran has gone gaga.”
“Not to mention she wants to turn the house into a pleasure dome.”
But then the train arrived, and they both got on, and for the rest of the journey home, they rode in silence. It was so weird, Edelie thought. She and Ernestine had landed their jobs at the same time and had even started on the same day, and had ridden to work together that day. But their schedules were too different, and they’d never ridden the subway together again, until today, their last day. What were the odds? Slim, she would have guessed.
And as they rode on, her mind drifted back to the guy they all met yesterday. The guy who was so adamant to warn them about Joshua. It wasn’t Joshua he should have warned them about, however, but Ginger Peace and Spear Boodle and Mike Hognose. Thanks to them the three Flummox sisters were out of a job, exactly one week before their twenty-first birthdays. And she had a sad face that made other people sad, apparently.
Except her sisters. They liked her face. She folded her fingers into Ernestine’s, who gave her a squeeze back. At least they had each other.
They arrived home and were greeted by a very frazzled-looking Estrella.
“You guys!” she hissed, eyes darting to the stairs and back. “I have to tell you something! But not here!”
And promptly she pushed them out of the door again.
“What’s wrong?” Ernestine asked, still a little dazed. She’d never lost a job before, and the experience had been quite a knock to her self-esteem. In fact she couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this low.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Estrella said, pulling them along.
“I’m not in the mood for games,” Edelie grumbled. “I just got fired.”
“And so was I,” Ernestine added.
“But that’s great!” was Estrella’s surprising response. “That’s so great! Now you’re free to be who you really are!”
Ernestine closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face. “None of this new age stuff please, Strel. I’m feeling very vulnerable right now.”
“I talked to Tavish again,” Estrella said, almost manic. But then that was Strel. Even in her darkest hour, she could see the silver lining. Where she got it from, Ernestine didn’t know, for both she and Edelie were very different.
“I don’t think I want to hear this,” Edelie groaned, starting to turn back.
But Estrella pulled her along. “No, you’ve got to hear this!” she insisted. “This is our future!”
“We don’t have a future, Strel,” Edelie said, sounding even more morose than usual, and for once, Ernestine agreed with her gloomy goose sister.
“We are thieves!” suddenly Estrella burst out. “Witchy thieves!”
Both sisters stared at their sibling. Had Estrella, too, taken a nasty fall and hit her head? It seemed quite likely, for her eyes were shining and her expression was ecstatic. Either that or she was high on something.
“Thieves,” Ernestine repeated dubiously.
“Witchy thieves,” Edelie said with a sigh.
“You guys, you have to believe me! Tavish told me the whole story! Mom was a witch and Dad was a thief and together they were this great team of witchy thieves. They stole from warlocks and other bad… people,” she explained, hands gesticulating wildly. “And they only stole stuff to right wrongs and stuff but then they came up against this Joshua character and he…” she gulped, and her voice dropped. “… and then he killed them.”
Now she had their full attention, and both Edelie and Ernestine cried, “He did what?!”
She nodded frantically. “Joshua killed Mom and Dad and Gran never told us because she didn’t want us to know and go down the same road. She didn’t approve when Mom married Dad because he was a thief—one of the best—and she was afraid we’d follow in their footsteps the moment we turned twenty-one but if we don’t we’re never going to find fulfillment and Joshua is going to come after us and kill us like he did our parents.” She paused for breath, and was immediately bombarded with about a thousand questions, and as they walked on, Estrella recounted the strange conversation she had with this warlock who seemed to consider himself their guardian.
“But how can you be sure he’s on the level?” Edelie asked.
“Yeah, how do you know he’s not lying?”
“There’s only one way to know for sure,” Estrella pointed out, “and that’s by talking to Gran.”
They stared at each other for a moment, before Ernestine cried, “Gran’s gone off the deep end! There’s no way she’ll tell us what we want to know.”
“We have to try,” Estrella said, then told them about her idea to have a look inside Gran’s room through the old passageways. “It’s the only way to find out what’s going on with her.” She bit her lip. “I think Joshua has taken control of her. I think he’s… possessed her!”
“What?!” Ernestine cried. “That’s not even possible!”
“Gran is a powerful witch. No warlock can possess her,” Edelie agreed.
“Aren’t you forgetting that this is the same warlock who killed our parents?” Estrella pointed out. “And for some reason he’s come back for us.”
“But why now? Why wait twenty years?” Ernestine asked.
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? We’re turning twenty-one next week.”
“So?” Ernestine asked. “What’s the big deal about some stupid birthday?”
Estrella flapped her arms like a chicken before blurting out, “It’s the day we’re becoming real witches, you guys! Lots of witchy energy to collect!”
“I still don’t get it,” Edelie muttered. “Where has this Joshua been for the past twenty years? And how did he manage to kill our parents if they were such a great force for good? And how did he manage to possess Gran if she’s supposed to be such a powerful witch? It just doesn’t make sense to me.”
“None of this makes sense,” said Ernestine, sinking onto a low wall that lined one of the nicer houses on the block. She was on the verge of tears now. Not only had she just been fired from the job that was going to be the start of a great career, but warlocks were chasing them and their parents were thieves and some other warlock seemed to believe they were supposed to be thieves, too! “I can’t be a thief! I’m gonna be a lawyer! I’m all for truth and justice. I can’t just…” She waved her hands helplessly. “… change sides like that!”
Her sisters both sat down beside her and placed their arms around her. “It’s all right, honey,” said Estrella. “You’re not switching sides. We’re good thieves. The kind who steal from the bad people and give back to the good.”
“Like Robin Hood,” said Edelie, though she seemed equally confused.
“But what about you becoming a star singer?” she asked Estrella. “And you becoming a star cook? And me becoming the next Perry Mason or Ben Matlock? What about our dreams? Our hopes? Our future?”
“Our future is sunk,” Edelie remarked in her customary upbeat way.
“I’m the worst singer in the world, Stien,” Estrella pointed out, “and you’re the worst lawyer and Edie the worst cook. Our careers were never going to go anywhere.”
“Our careers are a bust,” muttered Edelie.
“This is our future, you guys,” Estrella continued. “Mom and Dad paved the way for us and all we have to do is follow in their footsteps.”
“But how do we even know any of this is real?” Ernestine insisted. “All we have is the word of some suspicious warlock we never even met before.”
They shared a look. “Gran,” Edelie grunted, and Ernestine concurred. They needed to talk to Gran and figure out what was real and what wasn’t.
“Where are those passageways, Edie?” Ernestine asked.
“I sh
owed you guys ages ago, don’t you remember?”
Both Estrella and Ernestine shook their heads. The only one who was into dark and gloomy places was Edelie. They wouldn’t be seen dead in them.
Edelie sighed. “You get in through the basement, and then crawl up.”
Ernestine shivered. The basement gave her the creeps. There seemed to be no other way, though, so she agreed when Estrella said, “Let’s do it now, you guys. While Gran is in her room. We need to know what she’s up to!”
They shook hands on it and then got up. Some of the gloom Ernestine had felt after her dismissal had faded away, she noticed, and even Edelie looked less depressed than before, though with her it was hard to say.
“Let’s find out what’s going on!” Estrella said with all the fervor of a basketball coach, and perhaps for the first time Ernestine was actually glad to have a sister who was the closest thing to a cheerleader she’d ever known.
“Yes, let’s,” she agreed, and when finally the trio set foot for Safflower House, they did so with something akin to a spring in their step. Well, except for Edelie, of course, whose feet were simply not equipped for springing.
Chapter 28
Edelie didn’t like this. She’d always dreamed of being a master chef, and here her sister was trying to convince her that her future happiness lay in being a thief instead? That was just crazy talk! But then she knew Estrella was the nuttiest of them all. A person who bewitched their clothes and allowed them to run amok wasn’t the person to take career advice from.
She led her sisters into the basement and showed them the big old furnace and the big oil painting hanging right next to it. She’d dubbed it ‘Hope,’ and it was all black smudges on black canvas. If you looked closely, you could see the outline of a black figure carrying a black torch. Of hope.
Ernestine and Estrella eyed the painting with a critical eye.
“I don’t like it,” Ernestine remarked. “Too gloomy.”
“It is a little dark,” Estrella agreed. “Is it cubism?”
“Are you nuts? A kid made that. Or a crazy person. I’m sure if you got a shrink in here he could tell you exactly what was wrong with the artist.”
