The Witch's Beauty (A Cozy Witch Mystery)

by Kincaid, Iris

  That was enough to turn most of their faces into disappointment. Although one older woman kept muttering about clearing out her 401(k). Lorna was taken aback. None of the others had suffered her disfigurement. But they still wanted so badly to be beautiful. Why? She had a good hunch—probably the same reason she wanted it—the near-certainty of love and romance.

  The remainder of the day, Lorna reconciled herself to an endless stream of gawking and questions. She knew it would take them a little while to get used to her new self. Some of them even went so far as to call up the employees who had the day off and tell them that they just had to come in and take a look at her.

  The end of the day came as a bit of a relief. As she was leaving the library, she noticed that the gorgeous flowers were still in bloom. It looked very much like a permanent change. Flowers. She was reminded of the flowers that she had taken. Flowers from Delphine. Dr. Svenson had explained that Delphine was a helpful friend to all of his special transplant patients and that Lorna should seek her out whenever she had any questions.

  As Lorna stood in front of Delphine’s jewelry shop, she reflected on how she never would have dared set foot inside such a place before. She had never dared to buy pretty jewelry for herself. People would just look at her and see an ugly woman trying to make herself look better. Talk about lipstick on a pig. Those painful images and judgments of herself as an ugly outcast were still close to the surface.

  “Come in, Lorna. I’ve been expecting you,” a kindly commanding voice directed her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lorna did as she was bidden. Inside was the middle-aged, friendly, no-nonsense Delphine Sykes. She looked like a kindly favorite aunt mixed with some very sharp, observant tendencies. In the greater scheme of Oyster Cove’s populations, she was one of the good ones—witches, that is. Lorna noted with relief that witches didn’t seem to be all that scary. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be so strange after all.

  “So, you’re a witch,” Lorna began awkwardly.

  “Sure. But that’s old news. Your becoming a witch is what you came to find out about, isn’t it?”

  “I made dead flowers bloom.”

  “They weren’t fully dead. They still had a spark of life left in them that was able to respond to you. You have a green thumb, for sure. Those flowers that I left for you at the hospital—your presence will keep them fresh and lovely for months. And eventually, they will dry to lovely perfection, like a beautifully arranged display of art.”

  “Oh, that’s actually pretty nice. Is that it? I mean, that’s going to be the only big difference in my life?”

  “That is far from it. The powers of beauty extend far beyond mere appearance. Some are spontaneous and unstoppable. Some require training and guidance and will only reveal themselves over time. That is where you will make use of me, if you choose.”

  The changes that Lorna had already experienced were so vast that she would have been relieved to find out that there were no more surprises ahead. No such luck.

  “My donor, Lilith Hazelwood. You knew her, I think. Can you tell me about her? Maybe that will help me to understand a little more about what’s happening to me.”

  “Yes, tell her about me,” Lilith insisted. “And make it good. This is no time for complete honesty. This is no time for your cynicism, Delphine Sykes. It is important for this woman to feel an attachment to me. An indebtedness. Surely, you can remind yourself of some of my finer qualities.”

  “So, you’d like me to avoid mentioning that you engaged in the dark arts to kill people whom you felt deserved punishment. That your powers were virtually limitless, and that your ego was vast, and that your thoughtfulness for others would not have filled a thimble?”

  “Do not toy with me, Delphine. You’re so touchy-feely. You know exactly how to influence her in my favor. Now, tell her some good things. And instill some gratitude. I’m sure I can make use of her.”

  “Don’t worry, Lilith. I can actually truthfully recall a few admirable qualities.”

  “Hmmph.”

  “There was nothing that Lilith couldn’t do. The entire community was in awe of her. Oh, some were resentful and jealous. But I regarded her as the pinnacle of achievement for our kind. I only have a fraction of her abilities, but it was instructive for me to know what was possible. It made me strive more, try harder, expect more of myself. I wish I could have learned from her more directly, but that wasn’t really her style.”

  “I wasn’t a grade school teacher, after all.”

  “Yes, yes, yes. I never expected you to bother with the likes of me. But it would have been nice.”

  “She was one of the loveliest women I’ve ever laid eyes on, as are you, my dear. She always reminded me of a sultry brunette, 1940s movie star. The men of Oyster Cove were hers to pick and choose from. I am sure that advantage has already come to your attention. How are you finding the men?”

  This was something that Lorna hadn’t been able to talk about to anyone, certainly not her colleagues, many of whom were still in the dumps about not being able to avail themselves of miracle plastic surgery.

  “There are so many of them!”

  “You will have your pick. And while Lilith had little value for true love and devotion, I think you probably feel differently. And take comfort in this, that you will have all the love and romance that you ever dreamed of. It is your certain destiny.”

  Nothing could have made Lorna happier to hear. Even though that destiny had yet to unfold, every fiber of her being told her that Delphine was to be trusted.

  “Speaking of love . . . I advise you to head over to Clarissa’s Clam Shack in the morning.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  *****

  At ten o’clock in the morning, Clarissa’s Clam Shack hadn’t even opened for business. But the owner had weightier things on her mind than lunch specials. Lorna approached the shop entrance to find bossy, playful Clarissa cross-legged on the ground beside two large shallow boxes filled with tumbling, joyful, rambunctious kittens—at least eight of them.

  “Free kittens,” Clarissa boomed. “Gorgeous specimens. Wonderful company on a cold winter night. Nice and quiet. The best gift you could ever give yourself.”

  Lorna could only chuckle at the hard sell. “Where did you get them?”

  “That is actually a strange and infuriating story. Someone left them in the dumpster behind my restaurant a few days ago. It was the same day for garbage pickup. They would have been crushed in the truck and dumped dead into the landfill. I get so angry every time I think about it. And I’m so grateful, so lucky, that there was some garbage from the night before that I needed to take out that morning. And there they were.”

  It was an infuriating story. Lorna could hardly believe that anyone would do such a thing to these beautiful helpless kittens.

  “I think I’ll find a home for most them today. It’s Saturday, lots of foot traffic. I’ll have one of my employees stay out here while I get lunch ready. But I think I may already have my first customer. How can you resist them? Aren’t they wonderful? And beautiful. Well, all except the one that isn’t.”

  Clarissa was obviously referring to the runt of the litter. She was not only noticeably smaller than the others but rather sickly. She had patchy fur, a bad case of pinkeye, and a notable lack of energy.

  “What’s wrong with her? She’s not dying, is she?” Lorna asked apprehensively.

  “No. Well, not right this moment. But she’s probably going to have to be put down. I just don’t think anyone’s gonna pick her. And bringing her back to health will cost about two hundred bucks at the vet. No one’s going to want to spend that kind of money to save her life. Terrible shame. But that’s the breaks. That’s what happens to poor ugly kitties.”

  “That she should have to die, just because she’s ugly? Just because it would take a paltry two hundred dollars to save her? Well, I’ve got two hundred dollars, and I’m going to see that she gets well. I�
��ll take her.”

  Lorna would have judged Clarissa to be a rather cold, heartless character, but she scooped up the tiny runt with such gentle care and handed her to Lorna so lovingly that Lorna soon suspected an alternative explanation. She had been played.

  “You weren’t going to have her put down.”

  Clarissa tried to hide a smile.

  “I’m such a sucker,” Lorna groused, but not very convincingly. She was already starting to feel a bit of an attachment to the little runt.

  “The vet is just two blocks away on Seventh Street.” Clarissa winked at Lorna. “And try not to call her ugly right in front of her, like I just did. It’s bad for her self-esteem.”

  Clarissa was just joking, but Lorna knew all too well about low self-esteem.

  “So, I have a cat now.”

  “If you’re ever in the neighborhood after ten PM, drop in and I will rustle up some fishy leftovers for that little gal. Now, go fix that pinkeye.”

  *****

  The veterinarian was first come, first served. Lorna’s appearance attracted a predictable amount of attention and admiration. But her poor kitty wasn’t admired in the least.

  “Mommy, what’s wrong with that cat?” One loud brat demanded, wrinkling his nose.

  “Shh. It’s very sick, honey. Maybe she brought it here to . . . end its suffering.”

  “This kitten is here to rise from the ashes of cruel fate, like a Phoenix, and claim her right to health and happiness that all living creatures are entitled to,” Lorna informed them.

  It was enough to shut them up.

  An hour later, and a trip to the pet store conveniently located right across from the vet, and Lorna had acquired boxes of gourmet pet food, a collar, kitten toys, scratch posts, a litter box . . . More kitty paraphernalia than she had ever known existed.

  She dropped everything off at her cozy beach cottage home, and gave the kitten a quick look around, who seemed to approve of her soothing cream and blue nautical style décor. When Lorna had first purchased the home seven years ago, she had kept it sparsely furnished and punitively minimalist. Short mirrors had been selectively angled to display her body from the neck down.

  But at some point, she had decided that even though she couldn’t be pretty, that she could still have pretty things around her. Now, even though that was no longer how she felt about herself, she was still glad she had taken pains to create a lovely home.

  And even better, she had a furry newcomer to share it with. It felt like a good day for a celebratory lunch. It had been a big week for both of them.

  *****

  Barcelona was a superb tapas restaurant with a large beautiful outdoor patio. The hostess had said that it was fine to have the kitten with her as long as they stayed outside. It was a perfect day. The deep blue sky was dotted with just enough clouds to give daydreamers a compelling shape to interpret. And the restaurant patio itself was a work of art—Gaudi’s art, to be specific. Every table was decorated with mosaics as a homage to the Park Guell that he had created in Barcelona. It was a little slice of artwork for every diner.

  The patio also had its fair share of bachelors, all of whom were trying to catch Lorna’s eye, and a few who couldn’t resist boldly coming up to take matters into their own hands. But while they found the woman’s beauty mesmerizing, they had no kind words for her cat.

  “A beautiful lady should have a beautiful cat.” And that was one of the more tactful responses.

  What a nuisance they were. There wasn’t a single one whom she’d care to spend the afternoon with. So, though it was a relatively new skill to her, Lorna quickly became practiced in the art of the brushoff. There was surprisingly little guilt involved. If they had no compassion for a poor sick cat, she couldn’t be bothered with them.

  “That is genius. That little kitty of yours is a jerk repellent. I may have to get one myself.”

  Lorna turned around to see a gorgeous redhead, in her late thirties, dressed to impress in a flattering golden yellow halter dress, who had settled down at the table behind her. The woman stood up to take a closer look at the kitten.

  “Where did you get her?”

  “At Clarissa’s Clam Shack. Just this morning. She rescued eight little kittens from a dumpster and was trying to find homes for them. If you really did want a cat, she might have one left. But it won’t look like this one. The others were all kind of normal healthy-looking cats. This one was special.”

  The kitten batted playfully at the redhead’s outstretched hand, and she scooped it up in an affectionate cuddle.

  “She’s an absolute fright. She really will scare people away.” Despite the harsh words, this woman was clearly a cat person. Her gentle strokes were rewarded with a deep continuous purring.

  “She needed a few medications, that’s all,” Lorna explained. “In a few weeks, she’ll be completely fine.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Bella.”

  The woman laughed. “You think that if you call her a beauty, she’ll turn into one?”

  “I think she’ll feel better about herself if I call her Bella. And I think I should probably keep any mirrors up off the floor so she doesn’t realize that she’s not beautiful.”

  Her new acquaintance was impressed. “And what is your name?”

  “Lorna Sinclair. And yours?”

  There was just a moment of hesitation before she answered, “Lexi Stokes. I can see that you are familiar with the name. Yeah, I’m that Lexi. Please tell me that you’re not one of those book club kooks.”

  Lexi Stokes. Hers was one of the many names that had been thinly veiled in Stella Kirby’s gossip-ridden tell-all. One of the most memorable characters in it was a sexually adventurous woman with red hair by the name of Letty Silverton. Stella made no secret of the fact that it was a reference to Lexi Stokes, who immediately developed one of the raciest reputations in town. Lorna had read the book. It was a wonder that Lexi hadn’t sued the author.

  “I work at the library, in the back office. And I work with all the book clubs, so yeah, I do know a lot of the book club kooks. And the weird, stupid thing is that my name is Lorna Sinclair, which are the same initials as Letty Silverton. So, for a while, I heard a lot of ridiculously bad jokes about my wild party life.”

  “Oh, man. That’s not right. Someone ought to wring Stella Kirby’s neck.”

  “Or at least take her to court. Didn’t all those lies make you angry?”

  “Oh, they weren’t so much lies as they were nobody’s business but my own. Why does a twenty-first-century gal like me have to be worrying about the Puritans? Shouldn’t the Puritans all be dead?”

  Lorna liked her. “The Puritans should be four hundred years in their graves.”

  “Unfortunately, I run into one at the drugstore every now and again. And when I feel their beady eyes on me, I march straight to the front counter and order a super-deluxe pack of Trojans in the loudest voice I know how.”

  The last time that Lorna had seen a Trojan, it was in a sex ed class when she was thirteen. Obviously, she and Lexi had led very different lives. How was it that she felt so at ease with her?

  The waitress came over with two enticing glasses of wine, set them in front of the two women, and nodded at an enthusiastic man several feet away.

  “He hopes that you ladies are having a lovely afternoon and will accept his humble gift,” the waitress conveyed.

  The man tipped his hat as Lorna and Lexi looked over in his direction. He was actually rather good-looking.

  “You want him?” Lexi offered. “I’ll give you first dibs.”

  “Oh, he looks nice enough. Nice enough isn’t good enough, if you know what I mean. Where are the really amazing men, and not just talking about looks? I’m talking about amazingness.”

  “Is that an actual word?”

  “I was in a workshop on Shakespeare, and we were all encouraged to invent our own word, just like he did. That was mine. Amazingness. It’s self-explanatory. And
it’s in very short supply.”

  “Well, as you probably know too well, you’ve gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your—”

  “Prince?”

  “Toad. They’re either frogs or toads. Or salamanders. Don’t get your hopes up. Now, if you pass on our new friend Mr. Toad over there, I may give him a whirl. At least he has great taste in wine.”

  “For your sake, I hope he’s at least a salamander,” Lorna offered. A new kitty and a new friend. It felt like a lucky day that wasn’t quite finished bestowing its blessings.

  *****

  Lorna had spent way too many lovely afternoons on her own back porch reading. It had been a peaceful and enriching way to spend the time, but it was also a way to allow forty-two years of life to pass her by with as little interaction with the world as possible. She was ready to leave that behind.

  It was an opportune day to show Bella what a lovely town she was going to live in. Although most of Oyster Cove’s social action centered on the beach, it also had a couple of very popular shady green parks—perfect to get away from the tourist bustle. Perhaps Lorna should even teach Bella to climb up a tree—that was a major skill in the cat world—or let her chase squirrels, anything to get her some exercise and help make her stronger.

  There were several play areas at the park. As Lorna approached one of them, she was greeted by the delightful sight of two twelve-year-old girls twirling a double Dutch jump rope, and the talented jumper in the middle was a grown man, doing a very impressive job of keeping up. What a fun guy. That’s the kind of guy she wouldn’t mind meeting. But as she got closer, she sighed in frustration. It was Max Crowe. The sight of her was enough to bring his jumping to a halt.

  “Don’t stop. You’ve gotten so much better,” one girl encouraged.

  “I’m not the one who has to practice for the competition. You’re the ones who need to get back to work,” he said firmly.

  They good-naturedly took his advice and started jumping in very intricate and impressive patterns.