“Even when you don’t have any regrets about your life, there are always still some regrets.” Lorna remembered Dr. Svenson’s words.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Chloe teased.
That solicited a big smile from Lorna. “You three will be the first to know.”
She could see that they were happy for her. But she could also see that Lexi had drifted off into a lonely, envious state of mind that she recognized very well.
“Lexi. Do me a big favor and stop by the library tomorrow afternoon. There is something I need to show you. In fact, I need all three of you to stop by.”
It was very unusual for non-library personnel to walk into the rear employee office, so she’d have to fabricate a good excuse. But Lorna was going to make sure that her new friends passed through that magical portal. Because there was plenty of love to go around, and she wanted to make sure they got their share.
*****
Lorna’s private graveside conversations with her mother were heartfelt, but never all that eventful. She had dutifully informed her of any bucket list items that she’d ticked off in previous years. And she filled her in on the mundane day-to-day life at the library and her moderately exciting, but not really, game night awards.
But today, she really had something to talk to her mother about. Something that would have made her so happy and proud. She wanted to talk to her about Max, about making her own bucket list, and truly believing that she could create a great future for herself. It was the first time she had ended one of their conversations on such a euphoric high.
As she made her way to the cemetery exit, from a distance, Lorna spotted the very colorful and distinctive flower display that Daisy had bought for Stella’s grave. That small private ceremony had already taken place before the masses arrived for the public Memorial. It really was a truly lovely garland. Perhaps she could take another look at it, and more importantly, pay her last respects to Stella.
The garland was just as she remembered it, although already drooping just the slightest little bit at the edges. Taking a quick look around to make sure that she was alone, she laid her hands on it and watched it spring back to its lush freshness. There was a photograph framed and placed right near the flowers. Lorna recognized it as a cropped version of the picture that Daisy had shown her.
But . . . the original picture had been of Stella and her sister, Mina. This photograph was of Mina only. Stella had been cropped right out of it. And it was only then that Lorna noticed for the first time that she wasn’t actually standing in front of Stella’s grave. That was just an assumption she’d made because of the flowers.
She was standing in front of the grave of Wilhelmina Stevenson. That must have been Mina’s full name. And there was a matching gravestone very close by, Richard Stevenson. That must have been her husband.
But why had Daisy put the flowers on Mina’s grave and not Stella’s? Wilhelmina Stevenson and Richard Stevenson. WS and RS. It had to be. Stella had written about her own sister and her long-philandering husband. The husband that WS had worshiped unknowingly, even after he died. The WS who must have been devastated after she’d read her sister’s tell-all and realized what a betrayal her marriage had been.
Lorna took a closer look at Wilhelmina’s date of death. It was five days after the publication of Stella Kirby’s tell-all novel that heralded the twenty-year affair that Richard Stevenson hid from his wife. Death by heartbreak?
And where was Daisy in all of this?
*****
Between old city archives and the late Stella Kirby’s estate attorney, Lorna was able to figure out exactly where Daisy fit into this whole picture.
She had always referred to Mina as Stella’s sister, neglecting to mention that Mina was her own guardian. The woman had raised her from the cradle, sewn dresses for her, paid for her college education, and made her the entire beneficiary of her own estate.
Inadvertently, Mina had also left Stella’s estate to Daisy since Mina was Stella’s sole beneficiary, and the busy author had neglected to revise her will after her sister died. That was what the attorney had meant in the police waiting room when he talked about the multiple transfer of estates to Daisy.
Lorna had heard one cruel and thoughtless story after another about Stella Kirby. But trashing her sister’s memories of a beloved late husband—that was really unforgivable. Obviously, the stress and heartbreak were too much for the senior woman to bear. And the loss of her beloved guardian was too much for Daisy.
Elliott Guest was not the killer.
*****
On a hunch, Lorna returned to the cemetery. There, she found the forlorn and grief-stricken Daisy, in a large oversized cardigan, pressing Mina’s photo to her heart. Lorna walked up cautiously and stood beside her.
“Where did you get the poison?” Lorna asked quietly.
Daisy looked startled, and relieved, and devastated all at once. After a few deep breaths, she was able to speak. “You can actually buy it online. Off the dark web, I mean. It was Stella who gave me the idea. I went to her house to try to get pictures of Mina, but she wouldn’t give me any. All she could talk about was herself, her books, and her money. Her book club. She was the one who told me about The Name of the Rose. She thought the poisoned pages was a very clever plot twist.
“I don’t know if it would even have occurred to me if it weren’t for the whole disgusting finger-licking-page-turning thing that she does. But it was her cruelty to Mina and the story from the book, and it all just made sense to me. Stella didn’t deserve to live after what she had done.
“She never acknowledged responsibility for what she had done to her own sister. She said she was just telling the truth. And since everyone knew them as Mina and Dick, she said that no one would recognize their initials and there would be no harm done.
“But it wasn’t people knowing that was the problem. It was Mina knowing. Those memories of her husband were what kept her going. They were her last bit of happiness in the world. There was no need to take that away from her. There was no need to cut her life short like that.
“She should still be here. And whenever it would truly have been her time to go, she should have had that warm hand from the grave, cradling her as she went to join him. But because of Stella, she died in torment, alone. She died thinking that her life and her happiness were all a big lie. How could anyone do that to such a wonderful woman? How could anyone do that to their own sister?”
Daisy’s tears began to flow uncontrollably. “I know they’re too big, but I wear her old clothes just to have a little piece of her with me. I miss her. I just miss her. I just miss her. I can’t bear it.”
Lorna wrapped her arms around the sobbing young woman. What a thing grief is. She could never condone what Daisy had done, but she understood very well the blind grief behind it.
She let Daisy cry herself dry. And then gently led her to Lorna’s car and delivered her to the police station.
*****
Lorna had to tell Finn. And she had to tell Elliot Guest that they knew he was innocent—of murder, that is, not plagiarism. Of course, because his writing identity meant the whole world to him, and his awards and his reputation, losing all that would probably feel the same as being found guilty of murder. It actually would put him in a pretty desperate situation.
Oh, she hoped he wouldn’t try to hurt himself. Or . . . would he try to hurt the only witness who could testify to his crime?
*****
It wasn’t too difficult to get Shane’s address. Lorna raced to his house as quickly as possible and saw movement in the backyard. She approached cautiously and was greeted by the horrifying sight of Finn pointing a loaded gun at Elliot, who himself was pointing a gun at the head of Shane Whittle, who was tightly held in Elliot’s grasp.
Elliot looked at her desperately. “Don’t you come any closer to me. Either of you. Or I’ll kill him. I swear I will.”
Lorna looked at Finn. He didn’t have a clear shot. Shane had
the most terrified look on his face. And Elliot looked like a man who could no longer think of a way out.
“Mr. Guest. We know that you didn’t kill Stella Kirby. The killer is already in custody.”
Finn raised an eyebrow—that was news to him.
“So, you’re in the clear. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not yet.”
“Of course, I have. The plagiarism. All of you know it. And soon, the whole world will know it. All the world will know me to be a cheat and a fraud.”
“But you’re not a fraud. At least, not in your second book. You wrote that yourself. Those were your words, your talent. And it was better than the first book. And you know that’s not just my opinion. You got so many more awards on that second book. You are a great writer. That’s no fraud.”
“But I’ve disgraced myself. And I . . . I don’t think I can bear to lose all of my reputation, all of my good standing. Every praise and every accolade will be withdrawn. Perhaps it’s what I deserve. I really don’t think I can live with it.”
He loosened his grip on Shane and pushed the boy away. He stared at the gun and slowly, slowly lifted it toward his own head. “What am I supposed to do with all of that shame, that guilt, that humiliation?”
Lorna’s heart and breathing had stopped. She could barely think. But barely was enough. “Forget about it.”
Elliott’s gun slowly dropped back to his side. “Forget about what?”
“Put your gun on the ground, Mr. Guest,” Finn ordered.
Elliott readily complied, and Finn quickly retrieved the weapon.
Shane was in complete confusion. “What did you do? You just did something to him.”
“Forget about it.”
“Forget about what?”
* * * * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: EPILOGUE
Daisy Kirby was sentenced to ten years in the federal penitentiary. It was one of the most lenient sentences ever received in the state for premeditated murder. Daisy’s heartfelt and undeniable grief over her beloved Great Aunt Mina affected judge and jury alike.
In the judge’s opinion, lovers aren’t the only ones who commit crimes of passion. An inconsolable, grief-stricken relative is also susceptible to it as well.
She was also perhaps fortunate that the judge was in a rather exuberantly buoyant frame of mind, having just fallen in love with one of the employees over at the Public Library.
Daisy would be around forty-two years old when she got out. Not a bad age for starting over, as Lorna could attest. She was relieved that Daisy had not received the maximum sentence.
“I liked her,” Lorna admitted to Finn.
“You are just . . . the biggest . . . yeah, all right. I liked her too,” he admitted grudgingly.
Lorna and Finn had briefly considered whether they were going to blow the whistle on Elliott Guest’s plagiarism. Ultimately, they decided that if it was what Stella Kirby would have done, it was probably the wrong road to go down.
*****
New couples were springing up all over Oyster Cove, most notably Lexi Stokes and her artist squeeze, Jordan Mack. She had been selling the man art materials for years.
“So, he’s just been this really quiet, considerate customer for years. And then, boom! He says he can’t stop thinking about me. He thinks I’m smart, which I am. And remarkable. Also true. It’s just not usually something that guys notice. Apparently, he was noticing me for a long, long time. I’m glad he finally worked up the nerve,” Lexi told Lorna.
The two of them had become devoted friends. While Lorna doubted that she would ever be able to tell Lexi about her witch life, she did eventually show her a photograph from her older, disfigured days. With the obligatory plastic surgery explanation, of course.
Lexi was almost speechless. And she had given Lorna the biggest, longest hug.
“You were the Phantom. You really were,” she realized.
*****
Just several months after her rescue, Bella was nearly unrecognizable. Her vividly colored fur was a gorgeous orange and black, like a baby tiger, and it had filled in, thick, lush, and beautiful. Lorna asked Delphine if Bella had any sort of magic to thank for her new beauty.
“No magic required. I think her transformation can be chalked up to antibiotics, good nutrition, and being spoiled rotten.”
Spoiled rotten was no exaggeration. Bella was the VIP of the library staff. She was frequently presented with gifts, from gourmet snacks to exercise equipment. Kitty sweaters in the winter, and a breezy fan for hot summer days. Not a bad life for a runt!
*****
Although Lorna had assured Max that there were plenty of good witches around, he was still unnerved by how appealing and trustworthy he found Delphine. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk to someone who would have known his mother, even though Lorna had told him to brace himself for a potentially negative portrait.
“Did you know her well? What was she like?” he asked.
“She was powerful. And forgive me for saying so—she was ruthless. Rivalries and grudges can be the undoing of so many in the history of our community, and she was very much ensnared in that. No one deserves to be killed. But had she not been murdered, she most likely would have murdered. That is the plain truth of it.”
Max looked crestfallen. “So, she was a bad person. She was an evil person.”
“No. She was a ruthless person. There is some difference. She was not without a heart. In fact, the thing that I remember about her the most, the truest and most lasting impression I had of her, was how deeply she loved her little boy, her little Maximilian.”
Max inhaled deeply.
“I don’t think she would have had anything to do with Oyster Cove community life if it hadn’t been for you. But on so many occasions, I would see her at a local parade with you perched on her shoulders so you could see high above the crowd. When the summer fair came to town, I remember her holding you up on the merry-go-round when you were barely old enough to walk. And her going on the Ferris Wheel with you.
“I remember the Ferris Wheel. She brought some kind of medicine along in case I got queasy.”
“Do you remember her teaching you how to garden? She had a very large patch of herbs on the side of your house, and I saw her there instructing you on more than one occasion.”
“The herbs are still there. When I was a teenager, I had someone come out to identify them so I would know how to replace the ones that were fading out.”
“And do you remember walking in the rain with her? The other parents in town thought she was being terribly negligent. But you loved stomping in the rain puddles. And she was very indulgent—anything to make you smile and anything to make you happy. You were never lacking for love, that’s for sure. And I found something for you.”
Delphine opened a table drawer and pulled out a newspaper clipping. “This is a Fourth of July parade that she took you to. When I saw it in the paper and saw that Arabella and her little boy were in the picture, something made me cut the clipping out. I didn’t know why. And now I do.” She gingerly handed the very old, yellowed clipping to Max, who received it reverently.
“Did you . . . ever know who my father was?” Max asked without much hope.
“As a matter of fact, I did. Or rather, I should say that I do, since he is still very much amongst the living.”
“How do you know?” Max asked incredulously.
“Because he stops by every fall to check on my furnace. That’s what he does—furnace and air conditioning repair and maintenance. Sam Wilkie. Nice guy. Very nice guy.”
Max’s eyes widened excitedly. “I know him. I know him. He is a great guy. My father is a great guy.”
“But you have to understand, your mother didn’t have much use for long-term relationships. She was a love ‘em and leave ‘em and compel them to forget that they ever knew her kind of gal. You can’t tell him who you are. Because as far as he knows, he never met Arabella. And he’s going to have you hauled off to the funny
farm if you press the matter.”
“But I can be friends with him.”
“Sure. But it would help if your AC was broken. And not with a sledgehammer.”
“I’d have to do it in a way that felt like a normal malfunction.”
Delphine smiled. “As it so happens, I do know someone who has a talent for breaking things.”
*****
Lorna, Max, Finn, and Margo, a young woman with long, dark curly hair and an adorable heart-shaped face, had all gathered around Max’s air-conditioner.
“You help people to fall in love. That is so much nicer than being able to break things,” Margo said to Lorna.
“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” Finn objected. “That talent of yours is exactly what’s going to save the day.”
“I think your biggest talent is probably turning this tough guy into a pile of mush any time your name is mentioned,” Lorna tattled on Finn.
“Hey, stop rattin’ me out. Now honey, break the man’s AC.”
Margo fingered the machine. “Refracta!”
They all heard a loud mechanical crunch inside as the machine quickly stopped functioning.
“Great,” Max exulted. “Let me give Sam Wilkie a call.”
By the time Max had set up an appointment for much later that evening, the apartment was already starting to get extremely warm.
“I don’t think we really thought out this whole broken AC thing carefully,” Finn observed. “We need to get out of here.”
“How about Barcelona?” Margo suggested. “They’ve got great sangria.”
It was unanimous. Later, at the very crowded restaurant, it looked as if they were probably short-staffed for the evening. They hadn’t even had time to clear way some tired flowers from the vase on their table. Lorna took the vase and held it under the table, away from uninitiated eyes, and then restored it to a heavenly rainbow of floral perfection.
Finn gave Lorna a sideways glance. “Not lame at all. I stand corrected. That was way cool.”
It was a glorious evening. They were all young (ish) and in love, with some of the only people in the whole world with whom they could discuss their witch secrets. And vicariously, they could all feel the joy of Max’s impending encounter with his father.
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