by Valley Sams
“I won’t make her cry. I promise. I’ll just go introduce myself, that’s all. Perfectly normal,” Mac said.
“Be polite. She’s our neighbor. You’re not Michael Moore, so take it easy on her.”
Mac was practically jumping up and down with anticipation.
“Just a few minutes, then we’ll get back to work, I swear…”
Mackenzie didn’t even wait for Sabrina to finish locking the door before she crossed the street. She did her best to seem casual, but Sabrina knew it was all she could do to stop herself from running over and bursting into the shop. She behaved herself however, and waited on the sidewalk impatiently like a dog anxious for a stick to be thrown.
“This is going to be so good.” Mac said, “Look at the sign; the moon is a yin yang symbol. Priceless.”
“Behave.” Sabrina said and opened the door.
Not surprisingly, a loud bell announced their arrival. Brie jumped and glared up at the heavy brass bell on the ceiling. Mac couldn’t care less. She was immediately in quackery heaven.
The cloying smell of incense filled the room, the blue smoke from its burning settling like a fog over the room. What little space there was, was filled with all manners of mass produced new-age products from ceramic dragons to Tibetan chanting bowls. Every last inch of the shelves she had lined the walls with was stocked with objects that, in Mac’s opinion, were best left to desperate, late night online shopping. Only those driven mad with grief or loneliness would invest the fifty dollars she was asking for an enchanted silver pendulum.
“Brie…look at this…” she whispered, dangling a marble-sized ball from its chain. It made a soothing, tinkling sound that was difficult to hear over the other soothing, tinkling sounds that were coming from the speakers in the corner of the room.
“It’s for attracting love,” a voice said from the back of the store. “It’s been blessed by a Wiccan wizard and it’s my best seller.” The girls jumped and looked to see where the disembodied voice was coming from. With the fog and the island of objects stacked up the center of the room, it was hard to make out where the back wall was, let alone who was speaking.
“Are you girls looking to attract love?” the voice asked again.
“Lord, no,” Brie said. Mac hastily put the overpriced necklace back and followed Sabrina as she journeyed through the maze of tables and stacks.
Seated behind a counter in front of a wall of jars was the woman Mac had seen in the doorway. Her eyes were dark and her thin face was framed by a lion’s mane of frizzy hair. Her mouth was a hard line with a matching mane of hair above her top lip. She looked over her outdated glasses at the two of them like a disapproving librarian.
Mac stared in delight at the sheer number of dark glass bottles that climbed the wall behind her. Although it was a tiny place, it had the same high ceilings as their shop, so much so that the woman had installed a rolling ladder to help her reach some of the topmost tinctures.
“Every woman is looking to attract love,” the mustachioed creature said. She took a drag from a suspicious looking pipe that was carved to look like an ancient fertility goddess. She blew a cloud of heavy smoke upwards into the incense fog. “It’s in our nature and you can’t fight nature.” She stared at them with her dark, glazed eyes.
“You can’t, can you?” Mac couldn’t help herself and took a deep breath to begin what she had promised not to do. She was cut off.
“I’m Sabrina and this is Mackenzie.” Sabrina offered her sweetest smile, “We own that chocolate shop across the way.” There was a pause where Sabrina waited for the woman to say something but she was silent. She simply stared at the two of them. Mac thought she would be better suited behind Plexiglas at a women’s institution than in a shop that promised love and magic.
“I’m Cheryl,” she said. She knocked her pipe out into the ashtray and began to fill it up again from a pouch covered in embroidered cherubs. She was deft, packing the sticky green leaves into the pipe without once looking away from the two of them. “Just opened up a few days ago. What’s the crowd like around here?”
“Lots of tourists in the summer. This town is packed. During the fall and winter though, it’s mostly locals.” Brie said, as friendly as ever.
“It’s for my glaucoma.” Cheryl spoke directly to Mac, who had been doing her best to behave but apparently had been unable to tone down her general look of disdain. Mac raised her hands in a gesture of surrender,
“I’m not judging.” Mac said, though she was. Cheryl knew this too well; people with faces as hard as hers had usually earned them. She could see straight through Mac’s faux politeness. She took a deep drag.
“The locals all got a lot of money. Lot of wealth in this town, I’ve seen. Looks like the right business could make a killing around here.” She managed to get the entire sentence out without exhaling and when she finally did, it plumed out of her nose like one of her hand painted dragons.
“If you don’t mind me asking, are those all teas?” Mac asked, using her most soothing, winning voice. Cheryl’s eyes narrowed suspiciously nonetheless.
“All teas. Some herbs too. Some of it local, some of it imported. I’ve been helping people with my herbs for years. You can’t get any better.”
“Any of them help to find love?” Mac spoke before she had time to think, a goofy smile on her face.
Cheryl slapped one bony hand down on the counter.
“I knew it! I told you I have a gift. I know a girl looking for love, all right. Soon as you walked in. Both of you.”
She laughed now, a phlegmy, too-loud laugh that comes with a lifetime of smoking experience. “Tell you what. Since we’re neighbors, I can set you ladies up with the best. Be good word of mouth for my business, me just starting up and all.”
“Where were you before?” Sabrina asked. She was heartened now by the apparent rapid change of mood and felt brave enough to press the woman for details.
Cheryl stood up and stretched. She was wearing a long white dress of the sort that was popular at music festivals in the sixties. Her thin arms jutted from the bell sleeves and her neck from a patch of embroidered flowers along the bodice. By the look of it, Mac didn’t think it had been washed since the sixties either.
“Oh, I’ve been everywhere, sweetheart. Name it. Started off in Louisiana, moved on to California. Had a sweet little gig going in Oregon until uh…” She flicked her bright orange mop over her shoulder and Mac was on the receiving end of her scent – a pungent mix of marijuana and armpit. “Family stuff. Family stuff messed it up. Sold everything, took my earnings and came here.”
She walked out from behind the counter. Mac couldn’t help but notice she was wearing a pair of dirty Nikes under that dress. The grimy toes poked out as she moved.
“You know,” Cheryl said, “I chose this place ‘cause the newspapers were saying it was the next big thing. All the hipsters from the city were coming up. They’re sayin’ it’s like some sort of Babylon for arts and culture.” She had made her way to the front window and was adjusting her display. She fiddled with a Buddha made out of seashells. “Made this baby the other day. Just picked up some shells at the beach, some glue and googly eyes at the dollar store down the way. Boom…25 bucks. Sold two yesterday. I think…” She held up the shell Buddha proudly. “I think this place is on a vortex, like Sonoma. It’s the best place for people like me to be when all the new agers figure that out.”
Mac cleared her throat to get Sabrina’s attention. She wanted out of here and quick. Religious icons with shells and googly eyes? How could she NOT misbehave? Sabrina pointedly ignored her.
“Well, I don’t know about vortexes, but it’s been good for us. You should come by and get some chocolate some time.”
“Might want to rethink the chocolate thing.” Cheryl said, peering over her glasses again. “This kind of place needs something different. Vegan café would go over like gangbusters. I got this recipe for black bean brownies that will make anything you two make
over there look like garbage.” Mac watched Sabrina closely. Thank god. Maybe now that she’d been insulted, they could get out of that choking little hot box Cheryl called a store. Sabrina went pink.
“Actually,” she said, “I’m going to be competing in the first international chocolatiers conference this weekend.”
Cheryl was back to arranging her display. She moved a driftwood Jesus figure to the make room for the Buddha. “Are you now?” she asked absently.
“It would be a good way for you to meet some of the people in town,” Sabrina said. “I’d be happy to get you in.”
Cheryl grunted, uninterested.
“I’ll even set some chocolate aside for you.”
“I ain’t got money for that kind of thing,” she said. She brushed past the girls to the other window display, her Nikes swishing the skirt around the dusty floor.
“No charge,” Sabrina said. “Think of it as friendly competition. Can’t have you thinking your bean brownies are better, can I?” She smiled again, the big wide one that Mac hadn’t seen for at least three months.
Oh yes, she was back and in a very big way.
“Well,” Cheryl said, finally turning to face them. “I guess I can’t argue with free, now can I?” Mac had a feeling those sharp eyes never missed a detail. She also had a feeling they’d seen a lot more than tarot cards in their time….
“Great. I’ll get the invite to you.”
Mac was already at the door, opening it wide to let in the blissful ocean air. Sabrina was almost out the door when Cheryl hollered from the smoky darkness, “Come back when you want that love spell, girly. You both look like you could use a man. AND SHUT THE DOOR. Don’t want my smoke getting out.”
The girls waited until they were back in their own shop with the door safely locked behind them before they burst into laughter.
CHAPTER THREE
Anyone looking for evidence that Mackenzie Bay was an affluent little town, needed only to take a few steps inside Hall B at the Lighthouse Pier Inn.
Not only was it painfully obvious just how rich and bored the general populous was, but their desperation to make the event successful was as well. To Brie and Mac, it looked like the set for a Broadway play. They stood in awe, the first load of their supplies in hand, stunned by the transformation. What had once been a banal convention hall was alive with animatronic Halloween characters, yards of blood red velvet and seemingly countless booths, all intricately decorated in their own right.
“Oh my lord, I’m in Halloweentown….” Brie breathed. Mac was quietly relieved that she had spent the amount she did on Brie’s booth. It was supposed to be a surprise as Sabrina had been adamantly against bells and whistles. Mac had stayed up two nights in a row, pulling all the strings her family name had to ensure that their booth would catch the judges’ eye. Looking around her now, she had never been so pleased with such a lot of money spent.
“Sabrina! At last. The elusive Sabrina! We are so glad you’re here.” An older woman dressed in what appeared to be a fairy godmother costume came bustling toward them with a clipboard in hand. “How many letters did I send you? My goodness you’re a hard one to track down!”
Sabrina smiled awkwardly, “That’s what they tell me.” She said.
“I’m Jacquie, I’m the one who’s been on your tail these last weeks.” She offered a pudgy hand, made all the pudgier by a series of rings seemingly grafted onto each finger. “Now, I’ve got you in booth number three, right over there.” She pointed to the only undecorated space in the room. It looked more than a little dismal when compared to the glowing, cackling monstrosities that surrounded it. “You’re a little late, so you might want to hurry a bit. Now…did you need some help with the displays? I’ve got a few goblins running around that could be your muscle.”
‘That would be wonderful.” Mac said, “We’re parked right out front.” She handed Jacquie the keys, “It’s the VW wagon, you can’t miss it.”
“VW…how quaint!” Jacquie said, “Now, you girls skedaddle and get set up. We’re all so excited to see what you’ve come up with.” Sabrina flinched as if expecting the woman to squeeze her cheeks but was relieved when she bustled off instead, just as efficient and waddling as before.
“You ready?” Mac said, taking a deep breath.
“Ready as I’ll ever be…. wait.” Sabrina was about to walk forward, but stopped suddenly. “Oh my god, Mac, it’s him. There he is.” She grabbed Mac’s arm excitedly.
“There who is?”
“Benson. Benson Bevacqua…remember? Big Bad Benson? That horrible critic I was telling you about?” Sabrina was doing her best to be discreet but it never had been one of her strong points. She was nodding her head frantically in the direction of a plump, bald man a few feet away.
There was nothing about this man that looked intimidating. In fact, he looked almost tragically out of place surrounded by such high-priced camp. He was wearing a brown corduroy jacket that was wrinkled at the hem and a wool hat of the sort favored by hunters and hipsters. Mac guessed it was to hide the fact that beneath the hat, he was rapidly balding. His shirt needed pressing and it stretched slightly at the belly where it fought against his firm, round stomach.
“Is he wearing jeans?” Mac whispered.
“Is he drinking a beer?” Sabrina hissed in parallel. “It’s 10 am and he’s drinking a beer.”
“Has been drinking a beer, you mean,” Mac said. “He’s only got a few sips left.”
Benson had a young girl dressed as a zombie nurse up against one of the pillars that lined the hall. The loose way with which he moved his head as he spoke lead Mac to believe that wasn’t his first drink of the day. Although she was smiling, there was a far off look in the zombie girl’s eye. The kind of look that meant all she was thinking about was how much the man she was speaking with was worth and not whether she interested in what he was saying.
“Let’s try to get past him,” Brie said, taking Mac by the arm again. The girls hobbled past the notorious critic, laden with their boxes and thermal bags. Luckily he was more interested in the zombie girl’s cleavage and they managed to get to their booth unnoticed.
“That’s ridiculous,” Brie said, practically slamming her bag onto the booth counter. “Someone should say something.”
“Absolutely.” Mac agreed, unzipping the bags and starting to take out their products. “What kind of judge wears jeans to an event like this?”
Brie looked at her friend with disbelief…
“Sometimes I forget how waspy you are,” Brie said, in comic amazement.
“What? What’s ridiculous then? You don’t think jeans are ridiculous?”
“The drinking!” Brie whispered, “He’s obviously more than a little toasty. How is he supposed to be able to make any kind of judgment call when some cheap lager has numbed his palate! I told you he was a terrible person. This is all going to go so wrong because of that guy…I knew I shouldn’t have…”
“Hey.” Mac stopped her tirade. She gently pulled a plate from one of the carrying cases she’d had custom made for transport. On it was just one of the sublime creations Brie had spent all week making: a black cat made entirely of spun sugar and chocolate. It was more delicate than a porcelain figurine and just as detailed. On top of that, each kitty tasted divinely of the deepest, darkest cocoa with an undercurrent of burnt sugar, scorched to the most perfect, wickedest caramel. She held it up so that they caught the light.
“This. This transcends one man’s drunken opinion.” She fixed Brie’s wide, panicking eyes with her own. “You’ve got this, Sabrina.”
Sabrina exhaled and closed her eyes.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’ve got this.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The look on Brie’s face when they had finally set up their display was worth the late night Internet surfing and phone calls to scattered artists. It was worth every penny to see her best friend light up like she used to. Her smile was wide and her eyes even more so,
as the two girls stood back to admire what had once been the dullest display in the room.
“I had no idea you did this.” Brie squealed like an excited birthday girl. “I knew you had something up your sleeve, but this?” Sabrina flung herself on Mac, who, never one for hugs, found herself unable to fight the Brie blanket that suddenly enfolded her.
She had to admit, it was the most impressive display of the bunch. Hand painted and eerily beautiful down to the last detail, the panels transformed the simple booth into a gothic mansion. The turrets reached up almost to the ceiling and every window was cleverly lit with glowing orange light. There were even mysterious shadows passing in front of one or two of them, on occasion. Where Brie would stand to have her chocolates judged was an oversized door, complete with gloomy knocker, which opened out toward the judges.
