While the detectives listened, Mara and Tessa described Miss Priss and the butler. In general, the exaggerations were modest, but there was no doubt that none of us had found the encounter satisfying.
“And what did you think of them, Sam?” Ada asked.
“They certainly weren’t Goodsprings normal fare,” I started. “But real estate agents, especially ones who weren’t sleeping well, are known to be pushy and aggressive. They need sales and commissions, and they can’t wait for those things to just appear. The butler, on the other hand, was a sphynx. He had a face made by Botox and said maybe ten words the whole time we were there.”
“Forty-two,” Mara said. “And that includes a couple no one could hear but me.” She smiled. “I counted.”
We all laughed. Leave it to Mara to count words spoken.
“I don’t do that with everyone,” Mara continued. “Most of us talk so much, it’s impossible to keep up.”
“That’s good to know, I think,” Tessa said.
“I think I know why you went out there,” Ada said. “And I was wondering...”
“Nothing,” I said, sensing her question. “I went upstairs, and well, I didn’t feel a thing.”
“That’s good to know, very good,” Ethan said. “But we better be going. Even in a small town like Goodsprings, there is always something dark happening.”
“People are the same the world over,” Ada said. “Sometimes, I think there are no pure hearts out there. Everyone has a spot of darkness inside them. Luckily for most people, it’s a very small spot.”
We watched the detectives leave. Since I had finished my food, I knew I should be going too, but I felt rather content after the meal and coming back from Windermere. I looked out at the bright sun and the snow, and I didn’t feel anything was too awfully off kilter. That was a good sign. I had already helped solve several murders, and a hiatus was exactly what the town needed. But before I could leave, three women in hospital scrubs entered and slid into the next booth. That signaled Tessa to rise and greet.
“Welcome to Good Eats,” Tessa said. “I’m Tessa, owner and chef. If you can’t find something you like on the menu, talk to me. Perhaps, I can whip up something to suit your tastes.”
The women responded with their own greetings, and they were certain they'd find something on the menu. That led Mara, our resident snoop to engage the women. What were they doing in Goodsprings? Were they staying, passing through, eating through some time?
“We’re temp nurses,” the oldest woman said. She was maybe forty, with short, bottle-blonde hair, blue eyes, and little red, stud earrings. She was also the heaviest, and her blue scrubs couldn’t hide that. “We were called in because of the flu epidemic.”
“Epidemic?” I asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“It’s not here yet,” the dark-haired nurse said. She had large hoop earrings and long, flouncy hair, like a gypsy. Shorter, her dark eyes darted here and there. “We’re pre-positioned as a precaution. You know, an ounce of prevention.”
“Is worth a pound of cure,” the third nurse said. She was African American and quite pretty, thin, almost regal. Her hair was braided, with streaks of blonde in it. To me, she looked more like a model than a nurse. Of course, there was nothing written that said a nurse couldn’t be attractive. “And we’ve forgotten our manners. I’m Misty Glass.”
“Helen McCarthy,” the first nurse added.
“Tanya Stravinsky,” the dark-eyed nurse finished.
Mara and I introduced ourselves. Mara explained that she wrote for the paper. I admitted that I ran the smoothie shop across the street.
“I adore smoothies,” Misty said. “You make special requests?”
“Whatever you want, as long as I have the ingredients,” I said.
“Terrific.”
“By the way,” Helen said. “What’s up with the snow? This is only place in the county that has any.”
“A freak of nature,” I replied. “I heard some weather-person say it was a rare confluence of moisture, cold air, and light wind.”
“I think it’s pretty,” Tanya said. “Reminds me of home. It snows like the dickens in upstate New York.”
“You can have it,” Misty said. “I’m from California, and it never snowed. I can’t imagine the freeways if it ever snowed”
With that, Tessa returned to take the nurses’ orders. Mara and I took the opportunity to say good-bye and leave. The last thing we needed was to chat with them about the upcoming wave of flu. I told myself that I needed to lay in a good supply of mint, menthol, and camphor. A hint of camphor would open the airways and allow people to breathe. I hated flu season. Not because I suffered, but because so many others did. I didn't like seeing my neighbors and friends reduced to hacking, sneezing, feverish bundles of pain.
When I told David about the flu, he immediately promised to bring in extra orange juice.
“Vitamin C is the ticket,” David said. “Of course, if we could get rid of this stupid snow, we might stand a chance.”
The after-work crowd wasn’t much, so I sent David off to do whatever it was he did in the evening. I knew he had motorcycle buddies he spent time with, and there were several charities where he volunteered, but he was mostly an enigma after he left Happy Blendings. I didn’t pry. People were entitled to their privacy.
Dusk came early and was over quickly. Winter darkness with its star-filled sky arrived. I turned off my signs, locked the door, and walked my bike to Main street. It was wet but not icy. The moon provided more than enough light. The ride up the hill was pleasant, giving me a chance to think about Miss Priss and Hughes. I didn’t know what exactly to make of them. She was on the simple side, a driven woman who divided people into those who could help and those who couldn’t. She didn’t have much time for those who couldn’t help her. Hughes on the other hand was a real puzzle. He was the archetype of the old movie butler, staid and silent but knowing almost everything. If I had to pick which one was apt to cause the biggest trouble, I would name Hughes. His kind of trouble would run deep and fast.
Home was as I left it, which was always welcome. I wasn’t up to doing much of anything, as there wasn’t much to be done. For a moment, I remembered the three nurses. They were normal enough, and I guessed competent enough. Because if a flu epidemic was around the corner, we would need trained nurses and doctors. Since I had a few healthy-living spells in my corner, I didn’t think I would get sick. And in a pinch, I might even extend a spell to someone I loved. But saving people from sickness and illness was not a good thing. The world had a way of keeping things in balance. I was not wise enough to fool with that.
I checked the front door because I always checked the front door. That was where I found the envelope.
Chapter 6
The envelope was black, with a red, silk ribbon and thick, red ink. It was addressed to “Ms. Samantha Greene”—me. The quality of the paper was far beyond something found in the dollar store. And the script was elegant, very old school. People weren’t taught script anymore. Printing was quite good enough.
When you’re a witch, you don’t just open such missives. This wasn’t the electricity bill or some advertisement. This was special, and special notes needed special handling. I took the envelope to the kitchen and placed it on the table. There was no return address, which made it suspect from the beginning. I sniffed and stared and tried to divine if there was any magic involved. I sensed nothing. That didn’t mean there was no magic, only that I couldn’t find it. So, without any reason to avoid opening the envelope, I held it at arms-length and tore it open.
Nothing happened.
A good sign.
I pulled out the card inside and read the thick, red script.
Greetings,
You are cordially invited to an open house ball at Windermere Manor, this Friday, from 7 to 10 PM. Please no gifts. Your attendance will be gift enough. No need to RSVP. Simply grace us with your presence.
Mr. Bluth
&nb
sp; I READ THE CARD THREE times before I fully understood it. Mr. Bluth, the new owner of Windermere Manor was throwing an open house. I was invited, but how many others would join me, because it was certain that I would be there. I ran my fingers over the card, feeling for magic, but there wasn’t anything. It was just an invitation, a fancy invitation, but nothing more than that. Staring, I grabbed my phone.
“I got one,” Tessa said, as soon as I asked. “Isn’t it weird. You are going, aren’t you?”
“How could I refuse? Although there’s no RSVP. Just show up, I guess.”
“Allie got an invitation too, which means Mr. Bluth has done some homework.”
“What do you think, everyone in town?”
“I don’t know,” Tessa said. “I’m guessing most of the town. You’re going to do some calling?”
“I will,” I said. “I’ll let you know tomorrow who answers with a yes.”
“Good. This should be quite an event for little old Goodsprings.”
“Let’s hope it is a peaceful event.”
I called Mara, and she had an invitation, as did the Gallaghers, Ada and Ethan. Ada wanted some advice on what to wear, and I had to confess that I had no idea. Knowing Windermere Manor, something tasteful and elegant would do. This wasn’t some country hoedown. It was the finest home in the county.
As I set down the phone, I thought that perhaps most of the town had been invited to the open house. That seemed right. At the end of the Windermere dynasty, a long line of water witches, the house had become closed and dark. I couldn’t remember an open house before this one. No Christmas, no Fourth of July, the manor was never open to the public. Was that because of black magic? No, I couldn’t believe that. But I was glad Mr. Bluth was making the effort to open the doors. Sunlight was the best disinfectant, wasn’t it?
One thing I did know was that the small town of Goodsprings would be abuzz about the upcoming open house. I couldn’t help but wonder if Phineas had been invited. I was almost certain he had been. Phineas was exactly the sort of character people loved to include in a party. He was guaranteed to say something provocative. That was a wonderful trait to possess. I wished I had that trait.
I readied for bed, happy to be safe within the hedge my granny had imbued with magic. Sleep came to those who were secure. Yet, there was an energy inside me. I had been invited, and even though most of the town were also invited, I felt special. That was perhaps egotistical but true.
A single look at the moon was all I could muster before I went to sleep.
No clouds.
No snow?
Chapter 7
A third night of snow made me stomp my foot as I looked out the window. I was not so angry at Genevive as I was upset with myself. Genevive was obviously incapable of handling the problem by herself, and I had not taken the time to help her. What was I thinking? That she could find the canceling spell by herself? I was ashamed of myself. It was like asking a five year old to do advanced calculus. I told myself that I would have to do better. I would have to be a mentor and not a cheerleader.
As I left the house, I realized that this snow was different. While the other days had been warm, the air this morning was chilly, a real cold snap. That was not good, because without warm sunlight, the roads and streets wouldn’t clear. Goodsprings was too far south to invest in snow removal equipment and systems. It rarely snowed, and it never snowed three nights in a row. That was an historic event. It was so outside the norm that I was certain it would bring a raft of government analysts to the area. How could it not? It would be tagged as yet more proof that the climate was changing. I was tempted to call it magic, just to have the know-it-alls admit they were wrong. But that wasn’t possible. Safety lay in secrecy. I climbed onto my bike and told myself that slow was smooth, and smooth was fast.
I hadn’t gone ten yards before I stopped and went back into the house. Gloves were needed.
I fell only once before I parked my bike behind Happy Blendings. David’s Jeep was already there, as usual. I was happy for that. Inside, the shop was almost warm. The buildings in Goodsprings hadn’t been designed for cold winters. The heating systems weren’t so good. We had great air conditioning. Heat was an afterthought.
“I know, I know,” David said. “What you need is David’s fun-in-the sun smoothie, guaranteed to warm you to the core.”
I laughed as David thrust a smoothie into my hand. If nothing else, David was tonic for the soul. He was one of the most positive people I knew.
The smoothie was more water than anything else, but it did have a citrus flavor and some kind of spice that was akin to fire. It did warm, and I was certain it was non-alcoholic.
“Like it?” David asked.
“I think it needs some heft. You know, some bulk. But you succeeded in starting a fire.”
He grinned, as usual. “I was worried about the bulk. It needs more cream of wheat and less orange juice.”
“That would be the ticket.”
Even before I turned on the “OPEN” sign, Genevive walked in, accompanied by Allie. Genevive looked worn out. I guessed she was spending long hours on the computer, trying to find a spell that would end the snow. Allie was her usual self, full of sass and ready to defend anything and everything.
“I’m sorry,” Genevive said. “I know the snow is getting to be a pain, but none of the spells I’ve managed to find do any good.”
“I’ve been helping, Aunt Sam,” Allie said. “But she’s right. We need a really powerful spell, and everything we find is beginner stuff.”
“You can’t expect to find a blockbuster spell online. At least, I don’t think so. Spells that powerful aren’t meant for novices.”
“Tell me about it,” Genevive said.
“Go to school,” I told them. “I’ll see what the rest of us can find. We may have to consult with some others from around the country.”
Genevive’s expression was one of utter defeat.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “Remind me sometime to tell you about the marching carrots. None of us is so smart that we see all the possible outcomes of our spells. Remember that.”
“Tonight’s the open house,” Allie said. “Are you going with us?”
“I’ll talk to your mother,” I answered. “We’ll arrange transportation.”
“I’m not sure I should go,” Genevive said. “I haven’t been able to reverse the snowfall over the manor either.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “It’s just another feature of Goodsprings. We have the strangest weather in the world.”
They laughed, excited about the open house. And I had to admit that I was excited too. Mr. Bluth sounded like some sort of character. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was certain it wouldn’t be ordinary.
I sent them off with “wake-up” smoothies that would get them through the school day. After that, well, I hoped to have something better to give them by then.
The morning crowd arrived with more grumbles than usual. Generally, the Friday crowd was a more upbeat. After all, the weekend was coming, and the break from work was welcome. And, every one of my customers had been invited to the open house at Windermere Manor, which did put some sparkle in their eyes. But the cold and snow were a burden. In a warm-weather town like Goodsprings, winter wasn’t welcome.
Phineas was wearing rubber boots when he arrived, boots I had never seen before, not even during the tropical storms that sometimes blew in from the coast. Chuckles stuck his head out of the bag, and to my eye, Chuckles didn’t look good at all. I supposed a rooster accustomed to pecking around the yard would be stressed by snow cover.
“After three days,” Phineas said, “a guest starts to smell like fish.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it goes,” I said. “But I get the meaning. No one hates the snow more than I do.”
“I’m not sure Chuckles would agree with that.”
“Chuckles excepted. The usual?”
Phineas eyed the daily special
for half a minute before he nodded. “Wheatgrass, although no one will be able to find any grass under this snow. Do you ever wonder what bats eat when there are no insects to devour?”
“Bats?”
“They seem to be all over this year, and I wonder why.”
I had not noticed any influx of bats, but then, I was generally dog-tired by the time I got home.
“Are you going to the open house?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he answered. “But I’m afraid Chuckles will have to stay behind.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Phineas and Chuckles went to the back, where they wouldn’t bother anyone. David and I handled the morning flow. Fridays were not the strongest mornings of the week. Mondays were generally better. Friday afternoons picked up, however. So, I sent David out for an early lunch. He had just left when the three nurses walked in.
“We decided on a smoothie lunch,” Helen said.
“And I have just the concoction that will keep you going all afternoon.”
“Better make it till midnight,” Tanya said. “We have an open house to attend.”
“You got the invitation too? But you just arrived.”
“I know,” Misty said. “Whoever Mr. Bluth is, he’s certainly attentive. I didn’t even know I was coming to Goodsprings until the day before yesterday.”
“Word travels fast around here,” I said. “But rarely that fast. Have a seat. I’ll have your smoothies fixed before you know it.”
“We don’t order?” Helen asked.
“Not today,” I said. “Today, you get your first smoothie on the house, and I promise it will be exactly what you want.”
“Tall, dark, and handsome?” Tanya asked.
The other nurses laughed.
“Don’t mind Tanya,” Helen said. “She seems to have men on the mind.”
“I’m not getting any younger,” Tanya replied.
A Drop in the Potion Page 4
