Spirits, Pies, and Alibis

by Nicole St Claire

  He studied me for a moment in total silence, until I thought I would burst out of my skin. Then his lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Look, with all the strange things going on the past few weeks, we haven’t really had any time to catch up since you got here. I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me next week.”

  “Dinner?” I swallowed and nearly choked on my sandpaper tongue. I glanced sharply at the yellow contents of his glass. I never had raised my love potion concerns with Aunt Gwen, and I wondered if it might not be high time.

  “Just a friendly meal,” he hastened to add, perhaps panicking at my less than suave reaction. “Over at Salt and Sea.”

  Right. On the one hand, it was just a friendly meal. On the other hand, he’d suggested taking me to the most expensive restaurant on the island. Talk about sending a girl mixed signals. “Well, maybe. I’m not, uh…”

  Now I was the one shuffling my feet, kicking my toe against the edge of the door as I contemplated what to do or say next. I can’t be certain, but I think if he’d asked me on a date when we were teenagers, it would have felt exactly this awkward. After fifteen years, I had apparently not added a single ounce of smoothness where my ability to interact with the opposite sex was concerned. Fortunately, as the first of eight deep chimes rang out from the grandfather clock on the first-floor landing, I was spared spending additional time ruminating on this fact.

  “I’m afraid I have to go join Aunt Gwen and the others,” I said. “She’s warned me not to be late.”

  “Oh, of course.” Disappointment etched his face. He turned rapidly toward the porch, and I sensed an eagerness on his part to extricate himself from this bumbling encounter.

  “Hold on!” I called, suddenly remembering the day of baking I’d just completed.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, holding out the nearly empty lemonade glass. “I almost stole this.”

  “No, it wasn’t that. I have a pie for you.” Glass in hand, I ran to the kitchen and was back in a matter of seconds with a freshly boxed blueberry pie. “Here you go. I wanted to say thank you for coming to my rescue last week at the garage. If you hadn’t shown up when you did with Sheriff Grady, well, I’m not sure what might’ve happened.”

  He took the pie with a boyish grin. “I do get to keep it this time, right?”

  “Of course,” I assured him. There was a heavy ache in my chest as he turned to go, and I called out to him as his foot hit the bottom porch step. “Noah, about dinner. Just let me know the night.” The grin that was his response made my heart flutter.

  Despite my best intentions not to be tardy, I arrived in the front yard at three minutes past eight and was greeted by the sight of six witches gathered around a small table set out on the grass. Sue Ellen Wolcott was there with Sybil, and Bess Hollings stood with her daughter, Phoebe, on one side and her granddaughter Cassandra on her other. Aunt Gwen looked at her watch with a sigh. “We’ve already cast the circle without you,” she said. She stretched out her arms as if to push aside an invisible curtain. “You may enter.”

  “Um, okay.” Feeling like a fool, I scurried through the imaginary opening. To my utter astonishment, I immediately felt the hum of a soft, protective energy closing around me as Aunt Gwen lowered her arms to close the circle once more. “Sorry I was late. What else have I missed?”

  “Normally, we wouldn’t hold up the new moon ceremony for a latecomer,” she scolded, “but since this is your first official ritual, we’ve made an exception.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling completely embarrassed. But it wasn’t my fault Noah had chosen this of all times to drop by, and it wasn’t like I could’ve shooed him away empty-handed after he’d saved my life. Deep down, I knew Aunt Gwen would’ve been horrified if I had, and she was just enjoying giving me a hard time.

  I stood with Sybil on my left side, and soon Cassandra had shifted her position so that she stood on my right. There were seven of us in total, with six in the circle and Aunt Gwen standing at the table in the middle, which I knew by the candles on it was meant to be an altar. There were seven of them, pure white to symbolize the moon, and they were taken from the altar and quickly passed around until we each held one. Aunt Gwen held hers high above her head. The wick sparked and produced a bright yellow flame the moment her arms were fully extended.

  “Welcome, new moon!” she called out, her head tilted skyward. “We rejoice to see you, our goddess, as another cycle has passed, and we move forward on our path.”

  Aunt Sue Ellen moved to stand beside Aunt Gwen, repeating the upward motion with her candle, which also ignited on its own. “We greet the new day,” she called out with every bit as much volume as Aunt Gwen had done. “Today a new month begins, the moon rises, the tides flow. We are thankful our goddess returns and rejoice in her light.”

  Aunt Bess entered the center of the circle and took her position on the other side of Aunt Gwen, raising her candle as the flame sprang to life. “We ask for wisdom and guidance and for your protection in the coming harvest season. Stand behind us with each step we take, watching and guiding.”

  The three old witches shifted into a tight circle, standing with their backs to one another and facing out with their candles at chest height. Phoebe walked toward them and took a spot directly in front of Auntie Bess. Cassandra followed and stood between her mother and grandmother. Sybil headed into the circle next, stopping in front of Auntie Bess. Sensing the pattern, I followed suit, coming to a stop in front of Aunt Gwen. There was a gentle rush of air like the tickle of a hummingbird’s wings, and suddenly the darkness dissolved as all of our candle wicks simultaneously burst into brightly glowing flames.

  “Well done, my dear,” Aunt Gwen said to me as my candle flickered brightly.

  “I didn’t really do anything,” I countered, staring breathlessly as a droplet of white wax trickled toward my clutched fingers. “I didn’t even light my own candle. I wouldn’t know how to make it burst to life on its own like you did if I tried.”

  “You’ll learn. You’re doing well.” Aunt Gwen placed her weathered hand on mine. “Tell me, are you glad you came to Pinecroft Cove?”

  Was I glad I’d come? The truth was, I couldn’t say for sure. It had been a strange six weeks, that much I knew, and nothing like I’d expected it to be. Had I known what I was getting into, witchcraft and spirits, I might have stayed in Cleveland. On the other hand, with no job and no boyfriend, there was nothing left for me there. Maybe this had been the right move for me after all. Though doubt swirled inside me, I gave a tentative nod. “I’m settling in.”

  “You have a lot of memories here, not all of them good. I know it can’t be easy sometimes.” Aunt Gwen gave my hand a squeeze and looked earnestly at my face with blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of tears. “But we’re counting on you, Tamsyn. On you, Sybil, and Cass. After what happened with your mother, and then Sybil’s mother deciding to live in Manhattan, we lost a whole generation. You’re the last hope to keep magic alive in Pinecroft Cove.”

  So, no pressure, then. I looked around the circle, at the women who had become so much a part of my life in such a short time, and my stomach twisted at the prospect of letting them down.

  Aunt Gwen’s lips twitched in a hopeful smile. “Will you stay?”

  Would I stay? I didn’t have to. When I’d checked my bank account recently, not only had a paycheck gone in from the inn, but it had been much more generous than I’d expected. I could afford to leave if I wanted. Plus, thanks to the island’s second-best mechanic, a man named Rick who had stepped up to help as soon as word got out what had happened to me at the number one mechanic’s shop, Miss Josephine was back in tip-top shape and ready to drive anywhere I needed her to go. The question was, did I want to leave?

  “Yes,” I whispered, my head bobbing with a slight nod. I cleared my throat and repeated my answer more loudly so the rest could hear. “Yes, Aunt Gwen, I think I’ll stay.”

  Even I hadn’t been sure what my answer woul
d be until the words had left my lips, but once they were out I knew that leaving had never been an option. As strange a world as my new home had turned out to be, with its bubbling cauldrons and spooky ravens and things that go bump in the night, something told me it was where I needed to be. I still had no idea where I was going or what I would do when I finally arrived, but at least I could find comfort in knowing that I would be surrounded by three generations of women who would protect me and guide me on my path. It was more than I was likely to find anywhere else.

  Besides, even if the rest of the whole kitchen witch thing fell through, at least I could now bake a decent blueberry pie.

  It was a peaceful night as we sat out on the lawn and celebrated the start of a new cycle together. We watched fireflies flickering in the grass and drank sparkling lemonade as, in the distance, green and purple wisps of light danced beneath the stars. It was one of the rare evenings when the aurora borealis could be seen in the sky, and I soaked it up like magic, which I truly believe it was.

  “Have you had any disturbances, Tamsyn?” Sybil asked as she plopped onto the ground beside me, crisscrossing her legs. “Any sightings of ravens, or Doug’s face in your dreams?”

  “Not a one,” I answered. “Everything’s been back to normal since the truth came out. I think he’s finally at peace.”

  “That’s good news,” she said.

  “I have a confession,” Aunt Gwen announced as she came to join us, pulling up a tattered lawn chair. The expression on her face was almost sheepish, and I could hardly wait to hear what she had to confess. “Those visions you were having of Douglas Strong? I may have been partially to blame. You see, during the solstice celebration last month, the visiting witches and I may have gotten a little carried away and tried some spells that were, well, a little beyond my comfort zone.”

  My eyes widened. “What exactly do you mean? Aunt Gwen, what did you do?”

  “Oh, nothing harmful, child. We just tried a summoning spell or two. They didn’t work, or at least, I didn’t think they did. Only now that I look back, I wonder if that wasn’t the reason you started seeing what you did.”

  “Will I always see them?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she assured me, much to my relief. “It isn’t in the nature of kitchen witches to see ghosts.”

  Some of the relief I’d felt subsided at this news because I, unlike Aunt Gwen, was fairly certain I was not a kitchen witch. And though I wasn’t sure, I was starting to suspect my mother might not have been one, either. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that my mother had heard spirits. Perhaps she’d seen them, too, though I guessed I would never know for certain. Still, I hoped Aunt Gwen’s prediction was correct. I could happily live the rest of my life apparition free.

  It was nearly midnight when we closed the circle, and the others left for home. I followed Aunt Gwen into the house, piling our used glasses in the sink. “Should I wash them tonight?” I asked.

  “No, they’ll keep until morning. You should head up to bed and get some rest.”

  “I think I will,” I said as I reached the back staircase and placed my foot on the first step. “I hope I remembered to turn the quilt down before I left the room, or Gus will be terribly upset.”

  “Okay, good night, dear,” Aunt Gwen said, her fatigue making her sound more absentminded than usual. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard her ask, “Who is Gus?”

  I chuckled, shaking my head as I continued on. Old age was getting to her, that was for sure, if she couldn’t remember the name of her own darned cat.

  The first thing I noticed as I entered my room, aside from the stifling scent of roses, which I’d mostly grown accustomed to by now, was that while the quilt had indeed been turned down, Gus was not on it. Still mindful of that time he’d flown out the window, my eyes darted around the room. They got exactly as far as the chair in the corner before my swiveling neck came to a sudden halt, to the popping and snapping of several unhappy tendons. My whole body began to hum with an energy I couldn’t explain, except that it was almost definitely tied to the woman who was sitting in the chair, one hand stroking the massive, furry black cat who sat on her lap like a happy princeling.

  “Gus! Who is this?” I demanded, too shocked to know what else to say.

  “Hiya, Tamsyn,” the woman said. “How’s tricks?”

  Time stopped as I studied every inch of her, this mysterious woman who was sitting in my bedroom, dressed in the sleeveless, gold 1920s’ party dress. Her brilliant red hair was perfectly coiffed in classic finger waves, a narrow band of jewels encircling her forehead while the plume of a black ostrich feather framed the back of her head. From the hand that wasn’t busy petting Gus, I glimpsed my purple crystal dangling hypnotically on its silver chain. To look at her face was like looking in a mirror. I swallowed hard, my throat threatening to trap my voice inside. “Lillian?” I managed to say.

  “That’s me. Nice to meet you. Oh, and thanks for taking care of my cat.”

  “Oh, uh…” I stammered, staring at the furry beast whose presence had tormented me since the day of my arrival. “What do you mean your cat?”

  Lillian laughed, a girlishly lilting giggle that did absolutely nothing to answer the questions that swirled in my head. Though she appeared in every way to be solid, as she shifted in the chair, I detected a shimmer that let me know my guest wasn’t quite flesh and blood after all. At the same time, the silver bracelet I’d grown so accustomed to wearing, which I’d nearly forgotten about, began to emit a radiating warmth that encircled my wrist. I was as close to certain as I could be that my late-night visitor was a ghost, but if that were true, what did that make the cat? As if sensing I was thinking of him, Gus jumped from her lap and landed on the bed, promptly curling up as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

  “Pardon me for asking,” I said, not really sure how to address a spirit who was neither in a dream nor a foot tall and covered in feathers, “but how did you get here?”

  “You know,” Lillian rolled her shoulders and gave them a saucy shake, “I’m not quite sure. One minute I was out on the water, next it was dark, and then, all of a sudden, boom. Here I am.”

  My mind was reeling. “Not to be blunt, but you’re dead, right?”

  “Don’t know.” The apparition shrugged. “I guess so. I seem to be togged to the bricks and hitting on all sixes now, though.”

  I had absolutely no idea what any of that meant, but frankly, Lillian’s slang was about the least confusing thing going on at that moment. I glanced longingly at the stack of books from Madame Alexandria that I had yet to read, wishing I had been a bit more studious the past week. “So, now what—I help you cross into the light or something? The last spirit I met was a bird, and he just sort of flew away.” I flapped my arms too mimic a bird in flight.

  “The light? Oh, heavens no. You and I have way too much to do to waste any time looking for a light.” Lillian laughed, clapping her hands together like a delighted child on Christmas morning.

  I watched in dumbfounded silence as my new spirit friend twirled around the room.

  “Meow,” said Gus.

  I turned to him and glared. “Don’t you start with me, too.”

  A dizzy and breathless Lillian collapsed into her chair with another outburst of infectious giggles. “Oh, Tamsyn. This is going to be so much fun!”

  Fun? As far as I could tell, I’d just landed myself in a world full of trouble.

  This story is over, but the adventure has only just begun! Don’t miss Tamsyn’s next magical mysteries in Covens, Cakes, and Big Mistakes, and Magic, Lead, and Gingerbread, both coming soon.

  In the meantime, please consider leaving a review for this book! Reviews are like a warm hug for an author, and the best way for this book to find a broader audience. It would mean the world to me if you did.

  Subscribe to my newsletter and get a free recipe book!

  If you’d like to be among the first to know wh
en the next book in the series is launching, have the chance to enter exclusive giveaways of signed paperbacks, ebooks, and audio, plus get sneak-peeks behind the scenes, join my newsletter.

  As my special gift to you, you’ll be able to download a replica of the Bassett family grimoire, a fun book filled with all the recipes featured in the series, plus little hints about the Bassett family and the enchanted island of Summerhaven, Maine.

  A note from Nicole

  It was nearly twenty-five years ago when the first spark of the idea that would eventually become this book lit up my brain. I’d been invited to stay with friends at their house in Northeast Harbor, a cute little village on Mount Desert Island, Maine. Having grown up on the west coast, this was only the second time I’d visited Maine, and I found the whole experience magical, but what really caught my imagination was the thought that, in only a few weeks’ time, the summer folks like me would return home, and who knew what kind of interesting things could happen then?

  Ghosts. That’s where my mind went straight away, naturally. Ghosts.

  Over the years, I’ve thought about that cedar-shingled house a lot. During all that time, my imaginary island grew more remote, the mysteries that took place there more magical. Slowly, a whole cast of characters took shape, until finally the time was right to put the words on paper, (or laptop, as the case may be, since it isn’t 1996 anymore).

  So that’s how the Witches of Pinecroft Cove came to be. I hope you enjoyed this first adventure with Tamsyn, Gus, Lillian, Aunt Gwen, Sybil, Cassandra, Noah, and the rest of the residents of Summerhaven Island. It was a joy to bring them to life, and I look forward to sharing many more of their stories with you.