by Rose Pressey
“There now, don’t cry. You’re going to make me cry and my mascara will run. I’ll look like a raccoon. If it was meant to be, darlin’, then it will be. I left you in charge and I believe you handled everything appropriately. If it was the café’s time, then there was nothing you could do to stop it.” Her voice held a steely determination.
It was in her character to take this news without as much as a whimper. If only I could learn such a quality.
“I didn’t tell you when it happened because I thought I could fix it, but I can’t. An investigator came and I had forty-eight hours to reverse the spell, but it wasn’t enough time. I ruined all your hard work. I ruined the magic for Mystic Hollow.” Tears flooded my eyes and I sobbed. With each blubber that escaped my lips, my chest heaved.
“Now listen to me, Elly, you have to get a hold of yourself. Nothing is worth being this upset over. Life goes on and you make things work. You have many blessings to be thankful for, so when something bad like this happens, remember the good things you’re blessed with, pick your chin up, and carry on.”
I nodded as if she could see me. If only I could talk to her all night. I didn’t want to hang up because then grandma would be left to think about Mystic Café. She needed relaxation. The last thing she needed was to worry about me. Her only focus should have been feeling sand between her toes and watching the sunset.
“Elly, did Mr. Wibble come to see you?”
Her voice snapped me back to reality. “Um, yes, he was there, too.”
“Mr. Wibble has been kind to me over the years.” Her tone sweetened.
“What do you mean? You made mistakes?” I asked.
“I made a few, but nothing ever serious.”
What she meant was nothing ever as stupid as my mistake.
“So Mr. Wibble looked the other way? He ignored your mistakes?”
“Oh, he always came out to investigate. But he covered my fanny. Well, not literally…you know what I mean.” She snorted.
I snickered. “I believe you, Grandma. So that’s why Tom said there was nothing in your file.”
“I always suspected Mr. Wibble fancied me. But I was married to your grandpa, so he never made a move.”
Why hadn’t Tom done the same for me? Covered for me, I mean, not made a move.
Grandma continued, “Mr. Wibble came to me with the intention of closing the café during the first mishap, but by the time he left, we were friends.”
How many mistakes had she made? Maybe someday she’d share her stories.
“He seems cranky.”
She chuckled. “He’s a sourpuss, but a softy deep down.”
So she’d made a few mistakes, but they were nothing compared to mine. She didn’t even know the whole story yet. What would happen when I told her the book and spices were missing?
“There’s one more thing, Grandma.”
She paused, then said, “I’m listening, dear.”
“Someone broke into the café and took the book and the spices. The organization knows and we’re looking for them. I’m sure they’ll contact you soon.”
“That doesn’t change what I said. Mystic Café had a good run. The organization has always been fair to me and I know they’ll do what’s best. Everything will work out. Have faith, okay?”
It was hard to have faith but, with her positive thinking, how could I not trust her words? Confidence oozed from her and wrapped around me, forcing me to believe that I had no choice but to make things work.
“You call me tomorrow, okay?” she said. “If I hear from the organization I’ll call you.”
I sniffled. “Okay. I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you too, Elly, now you go get some sleep. And tell Rory hello for me.”
She hung up before I could answer. I’d probably never see Rory again. There’d be no chance for me to relay the message. Grandma Imelda had been supportive when I’d made the phone call. But I hadn’t really expected anything less from her. She had always handled negative situations with grace and aplomb. Her help for Mystic Hollow residents had always been unwavering and unrelenting. Of course, she couldn’t say much in between my sobs and sniffling. I’d been mostly incoherent. The memory of Tom locking the door on Mystic Café would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Somehow, I’d managed to drive the rest of the way from where I’d pulled over on the side of the road, but I didn’t remember any of it. I was too wrapped up in my emotions. I parked the Mustang in front of the tiny cottage grandma had left me and wiped the tears from my face. After the long day, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed, burying myself under my down comforter.
After forcing myself to move, I swung out from behind the wheel and brushed past the rosebushes, hurrying down the gravel drive to the side door. A rustling noise sounded in the nearby bush. I prayed it was a cat. My legs moved a little quicker when I contemplated all the creatures it could have been. My nerves were working overtime because of the day’s events.
The entrance led into the tiny kitchen. When I opened the door, the emptiness hit me. The quiet, dark space did nothing to alleviate my unease. I tossed my purse and keys on the table and flipped on the light above the sink. The artificial glow flooded the buttercream colored walls; Grandma Imelda believed in painting with colors named after foods.
I locked the deadbolt on the door, then marched straight to the bathroom and slipped into the hot shower, allowing the warm water to relieve my stress. I reflected on the events from the last few days. Rory’s face was etched into my brain and images of Kim, magic books, and food haunted my thoughts.
The tingle from Rory’s kiss remained, as a phantom pain would. Only this was far from painful. No, it was amazing and breathtaking rolled into one. But in spite of the feelings Rory gave me, the unease and uncertainty had a tight grip around me and it didn’t want to let go.
When the water had turned cold and my tension hadn’t circled the drain along with the soap suds, I climbed out and wrapped myself in my old pink bathrobe. I ambled into the living room and pushed the blinking light on the answering machine. I expected the message to be from my mother.
The gravelly voice that now irritated me worse than an air horn being blown in my ear screeched from the machine. I’d been ignoring Ray’s calls for days. When he left voice mails on my cell phone, I deleted them without listening.
“Elly, please talk to me. You haven’t answered your cell and I’m worried about you. I know I should have told you about…” He coughed. “Um, my relationship with Elana, but I was confused. I’d never hurt you on purpose. It just happened between us. There was nothing I could do. I want us to be friends. Call me back, okay?”
I hadn’t told him I was coming back to Mystic Hollow, so I had no idea how he’d found me. He’d probably assumed I’d come running home the minute things got tough. Regardless, there was nothing left to say. I’d moved on. Our relationship was over a long time before I’d caught him in his little fling. There was no connection between us. Every day for the past year, life with Ray was just going through the motions.
I plopped down in the overstuffed chair and zoned out in front of the TV with a bag of Hershey’s Kisses on my lap. What a pathetic sight I was, drowning my sorrows with chocolate. I may have lost the one thing my grandmother worked hard for years to make a success, but hey, a girl hasn’t lived until she’s made a complete failure of her life and everyone else’s around her, too.
On one tiny bright side, at least I’d gotten away from Ray. Even knowing that I could shut him out of my life so easily gave me delight. I’d set his belongings on the curb a week before Grandma Imelda had called. Hey, at least I had packed them all neat and orderly before I did it.
Ray worked as an accountant at a not-so-prestigious firm. I had no idea he had been cheating on me the entire time we’d lived together. For as long as I lived, I’d never understand why he’d insisted I move to New York to be with him. Wouldn’t it have been easier to woo other women with me not ar
ound?
No, he enjoyed the thrill of cheating, being with someone who he wasn’t supposed to be with. Ray, or Rat as I liked to refer to him in my mind, craved an amount of attention that one woman alone could never possibly lavish on him. Frankly, I was glad I didn’t have to try any longer. Yes, he was nothing short of a rat.
I’d caught him with his pants down around his ankles. Literally. One day I went out shopping and came home to find him with his co-worker. Elana, or something like that, was her name. They were halfway to my bed, when I innocently walked into my bedroom and caught them ripping each other’s clothing off. Silly me. What was I thinking walking into my own bedroom like that and spoiling their fun?
I’d met her once, at his office Christmas party. She stood out in my mind back then because of her beautiful black dress. I’d envied it from the moment I saw her. The silk had hit just above her knees and the front had gorgeous beading that came down in a low v-shape. I’d asked her where she bought it, but she claimed she didn’t remember.
They’d probably been cheating back then, too. Sure, the signs had been there all along, but hindsight was the only way I’d acknowledged them. Rat had worked late on special projects on occasions too numerous to count. He had important business trips that I couldn’t attend and took private client phone calls just out of my earshot. But that was the past, and I was home in Mystic Hollow now. But for how long?
This mess with the café had caused me to dig deep and really think about what I wanted. And in the course of figuring out what I wanted, I discovered something about myself that I’d never acknowledged. Sure, my motto was what you see is what you get. But on the inside, I didn’t really feel that way. In an epiphany, I realized there was a recurring thought that ran through my head: that the world would end if someone didn’t like me or if they were mad at me. Whether it was grandma, my mother, some magic representative I didn’t know, Rory or Ray, for that matter, I hated thinking I’d upset someone. Heck, I’d actually worried that I’d upset Ray when I tossed him out on the street. As if he hadn’t humiliated me and treated me like dirt by cheating. What was this weird longing I had to be liked and accepted? To be needed. What I had failed to recognize was I couldn’t please everyone all the time. I didn’t have to please everyone.
When I finally peered up at the clock, I realized it was after midnight and time had slipped away from me. It was a shame I hadn’t gotten to enjoy one last day running the café before it was closed forever. Knowing I didn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn didn’t make me happy. That was something I never thought I’d say. I’d never been one to give up, but I hardly saw any other way out of this situation.
I pushed to my feet, yawned, and made my way toward my bedroom. When I reached the hallway, a loud crash rang out, making the back door shake. My Hershey’s Kisses went one way and the remote control flew the other. I froze in my spot. The noise sounded as if it had come from the back porch. I swallowed hard, cursing myself for forgetting to pull the kitchen shade down. Was someone outside my window peeping in? Visions of various slasher films ran through my mind. I didn’t want to be the woman hacked to death. I’d prefer to be the heroine who saves the day.
Chills prickled along my arms and down my back. I hurried over and pulled down the shade on the back door. I didn’t think I had the nerve to go outside and investigate. So instead, I went around to all the windows, checked each lock and pulled down the shades.
After thirty minutes of fidgeting in the corner chair, and no further disturbances, I slipped into a pair of pink sweatpants and a well-worn Kentucky Wildcats T-shirt and crawled into bed. The noise must have been a stray cat or a rabid raccoon. I stretched out in the middle of the mattress. A big lump poked me in the back, so I slid to the left side. A spring gouged my calf making it impossible to sleep, so I shifted again. The right side wasn’t much better, but at least no sharp coils jabbed me. It would have to do until I could buy a new mattress. One good thing: my sheets smelled like lavender. I pulled the covers up tight under my chin and listened for more mysterious sounds. Nothing like being all alone to bring out the odd sounds and visions of the boogieman.
My tears flowed freely down my cheeks, dropping onto my pillow and soaking the cotton. I was alone with my thoughts and, after what had happened to the café, my thoughts were the worst place to be. I’d remained tough when I’d discovered Ray boinking his coworker. I’d held in my emotions when I broke off our engagement. Sure, there had been tears, but I kept it together. Right now, being resilient wasn’t an option. There were only so many things I could handle, and letting Grandma Imelda down wasn’t one of them.
A storm had moved in, and rain pounded against the window as thunder crashed overhead. The noise had drowned out my sniffling, but I jumped with each flash of lightning. Tree branches scratched against the windows making an eerie scraping sound. I slipped out of bed and padded over to the window. When I pulled back the shade, a lightning bolt split across the sky and landed nearby. I scurried back to bed, pulling the covers over my head.
I wasn’t sure how long I listened, but Mother Nature finally calmed down and I drifted off without another unexplained noise disturbing a peaceful night’s rest. Until the sound of footsteps outside my door woke me.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
With my eyes wide and body frozen, I glanced at the clock. The time read 3 a.m. My breath caught in my throat as the steps echoed along the hallway. The clomp-clomp noise sounded like boots. Was someone inside with me or was it just the clattering of an old house? It sure sounded like a person. I climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Of course, I didn’t have a weapon. The knives were in the kitchen. If I was going to live alone, I needed to think about security. Maybe I should get a dog. Rory had a dog. But before I contemplated life with Fido further, the steps stopped.
Did I have a ghost? First the bang outside and now this. Maybe it was a burglar. Was it the person who broke into the café? Mary Jane would find me bludgeoned to death in the morning. She’d miss me and come looking. Everyone would talk about such a sad end to a young, lonely life. Grandma Imelda and my mother would be devastated.
After a couple of seconds with no noise, there was only one option: I had to find out where the noise had come from. I couldn’t stay in the bedroom forever. I’d have to take my chances with the killer or ghost. I hoped it was a ghost; I could handle a spooky mist floating around. A crazed killer? Not so much. I eased the door open an inch and poked my head out enough to see down the hall. No one was in sight. When no one lunged out at me, I mouthed a silent prayer.
I opened the door the rest of the way and tiptoed out from my safe haven. In the hallway, a right turn led to the kitchen: if I turned to the left, it led into the dining and living room. I decided to check the kitchen first. The only light was from the cracked powder room door. Ray had always complained about the electric bill and me “leaving the damn lights on.” Now I was thankful for my bad habit. I never had liked the dark.
I peered around the open space. Nothing seemed out of place, so I turned and walked down the hallway toward the dining room—each step calculated so as not to alert my intruder. The only sound in the room was my heavy breathing. No ghosts or predators. The same with the living room. The grandfather clock ticked in time to my heartbeat. Easing up the stairs in the dark, I checked the upstairs rooms, looking under beds and in closets, but I didn’t find a soul. My hands trembled every time I lifted a bed skirt or opened a closed door. Maybe an animal was in the house? The crazed raccoon or cat? Okay, it would have to have been a very fat cat. The noise had sounded very much like human footsteps.
Stumbling through the dark, I slipped back to the kitchen. With still trembling hands, I poured water into a glass, then leaned against the old Formica countertop. What had I heard? As I gulped my water, I studied the back door. My gaze traveled down to the knob, then to the lock. It was unlocked. I knew I’d locked it when I’d returned home. Had I been sleepwalking and unlocked it? I thought I�
�d checked every window and door before bed, but I must have forgotten that one. An open door was just asking someone to come into the house. I walked over and flipped the lock.
Pushing back the dread that overwhelmed me, I peeped out through the corner of the shade. A strange feeling came over me, as if eyes were watching me. The backyard was one big black blob. Darkness blanketed the trees and bushes until nothing stood out—only the golden flicker from fireflies. I couldn’t have seen my hand in front of my face. I needed to get a bright light out there as soon as possible. Staring into the darkness wouldn’t solve anything, so I placed my glass into the sink and wandered back to my room. Closing the door behind me, I jumped into bed and pulled the covers back up under my chin again. I prayed whatever I’d heard wouldn’t come back. After a while, I’d convinced myself I’d only heard the old house settling. My constant flopping from one side of the bed to the other ceased. The tension in my muscles eased and my eyelids grew heavy.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Something roused me from sleep. I opened my eyes in the early-morning darkness. The shades blocked out most of the light, but I knew it was morning by the sliver of sunbeam coming through the edge of the shade. My breathing was the only sound until a rustling noise caught my attention. My heart did a flip. I sat up in the bed, attempting to focus my eyes in the darkness. Somewhere a set of eyes focused on me, I just knew it. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw her.
“What the heck are you doing in my room? In my house?” I yelled.
Kim stood at the foot of my bed, staring at me with her arms crossed in front of her surgically upgraded chest.
She clutched the Mystic Magic book in her hands.
“You stole my book?” I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Who’s to say that I didn’t find it?” She scowled.
“Did you find it?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No, I stole it.” She set the book on the edge of the bed, then straightened her shirt.
