by Dawn Eastman
The door swung slowly open on creaky hinges as I stepped onto the small porch.
“Clytemnestra, it’s so good to see you,” Neila said. She pulled the door wide and I bent to hug the tiny woman dressed in a long gray dress and shawl. She also appeared to have sprung from the forest itself, an elderly woodland creature. She was one of the few people who got away with using my full name.
“Hello, Neila,” I said.
“Have I lost track of the days again?” she asked. “I didn’t expect you today.”
I shook my head and smiled. “No, this is a surprise visit.”
“Oh, good.” She splayed her hand across her chest. “Come to the back and we’ll have some tea. You can tell me what’s got you all knotted up.” She swung her arm toward a dark hallway that I knew led to the large cozy kitchen at the back of the house.
I settled myself in my usual spot at the table and she poured tea into a dainty teacup. She pushed a plate of cookies in my direction and I couldn’t help thinking I hadn’t surprised her at all.
I glanced around the room I had come to love. An enormous fireplace dominated one wall with what could only be called a cauldron hanging on a rack over the fire. The walls were stone, lending an ancient feel to the room. The opposite wall held a modern fridge, stove, and microwave, but I knew she preferred to use the fireplace for things like stew and potions.
“So, tell me,” she said after watching me eat a cookie.
“Grace is coming to town today,” I said.
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Ah.”
“I don’t know why I have this sense of dread, but I can’t seem to shake it. The moment I heard she was coming I felt . . . anxious. She’s been away a long time and I’m sure there will be drama—there always is with Grace. But this is something more.”
Neila nodded and drummed her fingers on the table. She sat back and put her hands in her lap, closing her eyes. After a few moments she opened them and shook her head.
“I’m not sensing anything,” she said. “Are you sure this has to do with your sister and not something else?”
“I think so.” I took another sip of tea and set the cup in its saucer. “It started as soon as Mom told me she was coming.”
“You didn’t feel anything before that?” Neila rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward, pulling her shawls tighter across her shoulders.
“I’ve been worried about this weekend for a while now, but that’s because I signed up to participate in this crazy zombie run Seth and Alex are organizing.” I broke off a piece of cookie. “I’m not excited about it.” That was an understatement.
“Maybe your feelings have nothing to do with the running.”
I considered that. She could be right. Even with all the work I had done with her over the past few months, I was still not adept at interpreting the messages I received. So many years of ignoring the feelings and attributing normal reasons to them had taken their toll on my skills. I knew it would be a very long time before I could state with certainty that I had sensed something predictive.
Neila stood and went to her cupboard. She pulled down a canister and scooped some of its contents onto a piece of waxed paper. She folded it carefully into the shape of a square envelope and handed it to me.
“Here,” she said. “Try this in the evenings before you go to sleep. Just steep it in hot water for a few minutes—a teaspoon at a time will do. It might help you focus, or it might help make your dreams more illuminating.”
I peered at the envelope and sniffed. Definitely chamomile . . . and something else.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll give it a try.”
Neila nodded, but she had a distracted air. “Let me know if you get a better sense of what you are feeling. Do you want to stop by again before the weekend, or should we touch base after?”
I shrugged. “I’ll come as soon as I have something to report.”
“All right, dear,” she said, and patted my hand. “Want to bring some cookies with you?”
I thought about my run that morning and shook my head. Mom would be in full-on comfort-food mode with Grace on the way anyway. I was sure cookies would be easily obtained for the foreseeable future.
3
Whenever my mom, my aunt, my sister, mean girls, or boyfriends had me upset, Diana was my go-to person. Wednesday afternoons were always slow at her shop, so I turned my car in the direction of downtown Crystal Haven.
My hometown admits with pride that it survives on the tourist trade. As I mentioned before, the only difference between Crystal Haven and every other lovely small town on the west coast of Michigan is the otherworldly attractions. Founded as a spiritualist community, it had morphed over the decades to include all manner of new age businesses. But I was surprised to see the streets so crowded this early in the season.
I drove past the Reading Room, where people met with psychics to learn about their past and future. The line snaked out the door. I had only seen that many visitors at the height of the summer season. We also boasted palm readers, tarot card readers, healers, and pet psychics. Visitors can purchase crystals, herbs, cards, crystal balls, books, and all the usual touristy stuff. They can also visit one of the best witch supply stores in Michigan.
Diana owns Moonward Magick and she runs it along with occasional help from an assortment of twenty-something assistants. I loved walking through the doors, and always felt as if I had stepped back in time. I knew the dark wood shelves held wands, cauldrons, and herbs, but I needed to wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark interior. I squinted through the haze of incense smoke before proceeding toward the counter where Diana frowned at a computer printout. Her springy orange hair fell over her forehead, and she pushed it back impatiently.
“Hey,” I said.
Diana held up an index finger and muttered a string of numbers. She jotted something on her list and then looked up with a warm smile.
“Hey yourself,” she said. “How’s the training going?”
Based on the smirk that accompanied her question, I assumed she’d been talking to Seth or Alex. Alex, Diana, and I had been inseparable in high school, and since I had returned to Crystal Haven we were closer than ever. Seth must have regaled Alex with stories of my training troubles and Alex must have wasted no time in telling Diana.
I straightened my shoulders and ignored the tightness in my legs. “Just fine. You know, no big deal.” I waved my hand in what I hoped was a breezy gesture.
Her smile broadened. “You can always join our zombie team.”
She and her boyfriend, Lucan, were heading up a small team of zombies for the Fun Run. Lucan was a private investigator and a runner through and through, but he had suffered a severe injury last fall while investigating a murder and was just starting to run again. Diana was a non-runner through and through, and it was only Lucan’s injury that had kept her safe from my fate of running to appease a loved one.
“There’s no way I’d be able to join your team even if I could desert the runners,” I said. “Aunt Vi is taking this zombie apocalypse a little too seriously. I wish they hadn’t started the costume contest. She’s acting like the fate of the free world rests on this competition.”
Diana laughed. “Well, if it’s not a zombie tournament, it’s a knitting spectacle. At least the parking meters are safe for a while.”
After a recent knitting conference, Vi had become a militant yarn bomber. She had no cause or obvious statement to make, but that didn’t stop her from covering benches, parking meters, and the occasional fire hydrant with colorful knitted items.
I grimaced and then sighed. Diana’s smile fled and she narrowed her eyes at me.
“What is it?”
It didn’t take much for Diana to realize something was bothering me. She reached forward to touch my hand but I pulled it away. I preferred to tell her about my
sister and not convey my jumbled emotions through whatever weird connection we had.
“Grace is coming to town.”
Her mouth dropped open slightly and her curls drooped. “When?”
“Later this afternoon.” I broke eye contact because her dismay was feeding my own.
“But why? She hasn’t been back in . . . what . . . ten years?”
We edged down the counter to let some customers examine the crystal balls and to get away from the chatter.
“Try fifteen.” I said. “She never came back after she left for New York.”
“Why now?”
I shrugged. “Apparently, she wants to support Seth in his charity run.”
Diana pursed her lips. “I don’t buy it.”
I crossed my arms and leaned a hip against the counter. “Me neither. I just hope this isn’t about wanting to bring Seth back to New York.” I rubbed my forehead as a dull throb began. I held up my hand when I saw Diana’s distress. “She hasn’t said anything about that. When Seth went home at Christmas, he claimed they were just as busy and just as stressed. He said they seemed relieved he was so happy here.”
“Grace has never been vindictive where the kids were concerned,” Diana said. “She was always happy for them to come and visit your parents.” Diana held up a finger and hurried around the counter to help a woman trying to squeeze a large frame into a small cloak.
“They’ve had several murders here, and now there’s a zombie run!” I turned slightly to see who was speaking. A teen in goth makeup and all black clothing leaned conspiratorially toward her friend.
“Doesn’t it creep you out?” the pink-haired girl with a nose ring whispered back.
The goth girl shook her head. “No, I think it makes this place even more interesting. It’s not just psychics anymore, there might be ghosts.”
“There are definitely witches.” Her tongue stud clicked against her teeth causing a lisp. She looked around the store with wide eyes.
They moved off toward the book section and I couldn’t hear them anymore. I sighed. I hoped Crystal Haven didn’t really have a murder-town reputation. It had thrived on family centered, traditional readings and psychic offerings. The quaint and cozy surroundings encouraged visitors to stay.
I watched Diana with her customer and thought about my own family.
Things had been strained between my parents and my sister for years. While Mom and Vi delved fully into the psychic and fortune-telling aspect of our family’s gifts, my mother had despaired that Grace had inherited nothing from her side of the family. Until Grace realized that the strings of numbers and letters that scrolled through her thoughts whenever she let down her guard actually correlated with the stock market readings. Once she recognized what she was doing, she begged my parents to let her invest their money. Unfortunately, during a fight with them over a boy, or car privileges, or some other teen drama, she ignored a warning feeling and lost everything in a devastating three-day downturn. It had cost my parents their house and most of their savings and now they lived with Aunt Vi. She had tried to repay them over the years, but they refused to allow it. Dad had forgiven her long ago, but Mom and Grace tiptoed around each other every time they were in the same room together.
Grace’s son, Seth, was a different story. At fourteen, he had been unhappy in New York, unwilling to go to the boarding school his parents had chosen, and he had run away from home straight to my doorstep. Surprisingly, Grace and Paul had agreed to let him stay. I thought Grace suspected that Seth needed to be here.
Diana slid back behind the counter after sending the customer up front to the cash register.
I shook myself and tried to focus on the current concern. Other than the fifteen-year boycott of Crystal Haven, there was nothing unusual about parents wanting to visit their son, right?
I said as much to Diana, who tilted her head and reluctantly agreed. But in the silence between us, our worry grew.
* * *
I called Mac on my way home from Diana’s to ask him to come to dinner at my mom’s. He didn’t understand all the intricacies of the situation, but knew that Grace coming to town was a big deal. He was wise enough not to actually say, “What’s the big deal?”
Mac and I had dated seriously and broke up when I was twenty-one and he was twenty-five. Eight years later, we had found ourselves back in Crystal Haven and learned that our breakup was due to a meddling friend and a colossal misunderstanding. We’d been back together for about six months when he moved in with me. I felt like I knew where we were heading, but instead of rushing forward, we were enjoying the adventure. Together with Seth, we made an unusual household, but it worked for us. This would be the first time Mac and Grace had seen each other in more than a decade and he had never met Paul.
“Okay, I’ve got this case to wrap up and then I’ll head home,” he said. “I’ll meet you at your parents’ if I’m running late.”
I hung up and breathed out slowly. This would be fine. Mac would be there. Seth would be excited to see his family. It was all good.
4
I unclicked the dog leashes after a walk as Seth banged into the house. Tuffy ran to greet him, tail wagging so hard he almost fell over. The little dog stopped a few feet from Seth and his tail drooped slowly toward the ground.
Seth’s hair stood on end and he had that barely contained energy that signified either excitement or anger. With a teenager, it was sometimes hard to know which one it was. But Seth had an easygoing personality and I had almost never seen him truly angry.
“Unbelievable!” he said. “Mr. Munson is going to ruin everything!” He threw his hands in the air and flopped onto the couch.
Anger it was.
Tuffy approached carefully and jumped up to sit with Seth. He leaned against the boy and looked longingly into his face.
I saw Seth relax as he started to pet the little dog.
“What’s wrong, dude?” Taking a cue from Tuffy, I moved slowly and, just to be safe, chose a chair a good distance from the couch.
“Mr. Munson is calling an emergency town meeting tonight,” Seth said. He shifted his position so he could glower in my direction. “He’s trying to get the zombie run canceled.” Tuffy pushed his head under Seth’s hand to keep the petting going.
“What? Why?” Thinking of how much time Seth had put into planning, I felt my own anger rising.
Seth sighed dramatically. “He says it takes away from the dignity of the Founder’s Day weekend celebrations.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. Alex went over there to try to talk some sense into him, but I think we’re gonna have to go to the meeting tonight and plead our case.”
The Munsons were my next-door neighbors and self-appointed town historians and rule enforcers. Harriett ran the Reading Room. Her husband, Lloyd, ran the Crystal Haven Historical Society. It was true that the big Founder’s Day event was this weekend, but we had all assumed that the zombie run would only bring in more people and, since it was for a good cause, it wouldn’t be a problem.
Traditionally, the Founder’s Day celebration takes place on Saturday afternoon and evening. Lloyd arranges for a reenactment of the founder’s story and then there’s a bonfire in Greer’s Woods, a parade, and an outdoor party until everyone gets tired. Seth’s zombie run was scheduled for Friday night. I wasn’t sure what Lloyd’s issue was, but I was fairly certain Alex could talk him down.
“Alex will take care of it, Seth,” I said. Baxter had wandered over to me and leaned against my leg to indicate he could use some attention as well. I rubbed his ears and tried to figure out how we would juggle Grace’s return and a town meeting. There was no way to cancel the meeting once it had been called, but maybe we could calm the waters a bit beforehand.
Seth pulled Tuffy onto his lap and glared out the window. “I hope so. The animals really need the money. Th
e rescue league building needs a bunch of repairs and if they’re going to remain a no-kill shelter, they need cash to take care of all the animals.”
I saw Seth sit a little taller and crane his neck to look out the window. I looked out as well. Alex strode across the grass between the Munsons’ yard and my own. He knocked twice on the front door and came inside. Tuffy braced himself against Seth’s chest and began barking, but stopped when he realized who it was. Baxter ambled over to Alex and pushed his forehead into Alex’s hip. Alex was in and out of the house all the time. He’d moved to Crystal Haven in middle school and he, Diana, and I had immediately bonded. He owned Everyday Grill, the best restaurant in town, and that’s not just his best friend talking. He came out to his family after high school and moved to Chicago, where he met his partner, Josh. They both moved back a few years before I did, and Josh opened The Daily Grind. Josh’s scones were almost as much of a tourist attraction as the psychics.
When Seth moved in with me last fall, Alex began teaching him how to cook. They had never gotten past pancakes, but they’d struck up a friendship, and the two of them had cooked up this fund-raiser for the animal shelter.
“Hey, buddy.” Alex knelt down to look Baxter in the eye. His dark curly hair fell onto his forehead as he bent toward the dog—a sure sign he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration. The big dog rested his chin on Alex’s shoulder. Alex didn’t seem to notice the drool. I could tell he was trying to calm down before telling us about his visit with Lloyd. He’d had his own run-ins with Lloyd. As head of the Historical Society, Lloyd had the final say on construction permits, a strange bylaw that had never been voted out. It seemed all the business owners in town had to deal with Lloyd for any changes to their storefronts.
“What happened next door?” I asked.
Alex stood, shaking his head. “Those two are infuriating,” he said. “They nodded and smiled at everything I said and then told me we’d have to put it to a vote.”
