Every story was colored with a pro-Moose, anti-DLC bias. I worked hard not to color my stories in a way that leaned toward my friends. And it wasn’t making me very popular.
It made for an awkward conversation at the full meeting of the Distinguished Ladies Club.
“Could you do maybe one story about how we think this was a conspiracy against the DLC, this inspector is in Ridge’s pocket, and we know Ridge is dirty and working with Alvarado?”
“Do you want me to put a video up of our spellcasting session?”
Tatum knew that was impossible; one of our tenants was to keep the workings of the Distinguished Ladies Club private. We’d just seen a terrible example of what happened when our magic went wrong, or you used powers for which you weren’t ready.
Abbie’s mom was in the wand book. She was the last owner of a Crimson King Maple; her name was Marie Grubola. Abbie had shortened it to Grubb somewhere along the line. Abbie’s mother had handed her daughter too much power and died before she’d been able to tell her how to use it.
“I don’t blame her. I mean; she was a sweet woman. I just should have known.” Aunt Dorothy berated herself for not realizing what had happened. She saw the wand fiasco as a failure of her leadership of the DLC. And it was hard to convince her otherwise.
“Well, good thing Georgianne had her head on straight with the wand list,” Maxine said, and that was the truth.
A few days after the pageant dust settled, we were gathered for a meeting of the DLC, the FULL DLC—so that every witch could pick out a wand.
“Wait, I hear something. No, no, yep, okay, nope.” Karen Navarre had spent at least half an hour listening for a wand to speak to her.
“I want apple wood, it just fits. Baking, that’s a magical skill, right?” Maggie owned a diner, so that made sense.
“Sure, just make sure the baked goods are for the greater good. Not because you need a late-night snack. Wand Craft goes bad if you’re being self-serving,” Aunt Dorothy explained to the full group. We decided that even though the six of us were now better at using our wands, it was still important to have Aunt Dorothy, Maxine, and Frances there during the first session.
Faa brought twice the number of craftsman to get the job done quickly for our entire club.
“Ooh! I love this one. I’m going to get the Western Michigan logo put on the side since that’s Conner’s school!” Pam Ulmer said.
After a lot of debate and indecision, the wands were completed for the entire DLC membership.
We paid Faa’s travelers and ushered them out of the meeting. We’d been busting at the seams when we’d met here in the past, but the ranks of the DLC had thinned a bit. Mostly thanks to the fact no new members were interested. Bad PR had a way of impacting a witch’s willingness to join our club.
We fit easily inside the still shutter Broken Spine.
“Okay, so let’s be super careful with the wand practice. And do it like Maxine recommends. Also, I’ve emailed you all a schedule Pauline created. We don’t want to all practice on the same day in case anything explodes. Everything going in poof in a single day is bad P.R. for us. We’ve had enough bad press lately.” Candy looked in my direction as she instructed the full DLC. I sank down in my seat a little.
I had filed reports in recent days that both The Broken Spine and The Frog Toe were still struggling with red tape to re-open. Both business owners weren’t happy with the coverage from Yooperman or from me.
And Pauline wasn’t thrilled that the pageant was associated with a murder and the murder arrest happened at her event, all of which I had to report or again, be scooped by Yooperman.
My friends understood, logically, that I had to do the stories—good and bad—about Widow’s Bay. But that didn’t mean they had to like them or me. They loved me, but liking me right now, for everyone, that was a bit of strain.
I told myself that this too would pass. And I hoped it was true.
“Okay, who’s volunteered to go to the full council meeting?” Candy asked, and there was a show of about ten witches who were headed over to City Hall for the meeting.
The meeting was big for Candy and Pauline. From the moment I’d returned to Widow’s Bay, the Distinguished Ladies Club, led by both women, had taken charge of the community renaissance. They’d made deals with Brule to bring in Samhain Slopes, they’d conceived and planned several festivals that had put Widow’s Bay on the list of must-see places in Michigan. We’d become to Celtic Lore what Frankenmuth was to Christmas.
But things were changing, and The Moose Lodge had decided, thanks to the more modest success of the pageant, and the recent travails of the DLC leadership, that it was time to let new blood into the city’s tourism event planning. They lobbied for it, hard.
Lately, control of tourism events in Widow’s Bay meant control of a lot of Widow’s Bay.
Tonight, the full council was voting on switching May’s Beltane events to something entirely different, and entirely under The Moose’s control.
We finished our meeting and headed over to the Widow’s Bay Municipal Building, a.k.a. The Barrell. Most of the snow that had dumped on us the night of the pageant had melted away, and there was a very faint note of spring in the air. We were all still in layers and parkas though, standard wardrobe in the U.P. in April.
I was there in my capacity as a reporter, while the rest of the DLC was there to support Candy and Pauline’s bid to stay in control of the festival committee.
Phillip Lockwood made his presentation, taking shots at the Distinguished Ladies of Club while he promoted his brand of civic organization.
“In conclusion, we all remember the traffic nightmare of All Souls Festival, the tragic and disastrous Outhouse Race Crash, and the terrible fires associated with Yule Days. Do we want to continue with this type of mismanagement for our events and have our town become the laughingstock of the state?”
It was a gross misrepresentation of the events. Each had their share of problems, but each had changed the fortunes of the town for the better.
Pauline shared her stories as well, of the millions of dollars that would be pumped into town from her festival leadership. She talked about the new businesses. And she gave credit back to Candy for new employment opportunities and expansion of the safety forces.
“It’s time to vote,” the president of the council declared.
“All in favor of granting The Moose Lodge’s request, say aye.”
The seven-member council voted five to two in FAVOR of letting The Moose take control of May’s celebrations. They would change gears immediately.
Beltane Bash had officially been turned into the Testicle Festival.
Chapter 19
“That’s just ridiculous,” Pauline said. She was disgusted by the name and the whole affair.
“I mean, it’s also derivative. They have at Testicle Festival downstate,” Candy said.
“It’s not all bad news.” Georgianne opened her laptop to see the latest story in the Lansing State Journal:
Chippewa County inspector caught on tape accepting bribes.
It wasn’t my paper; it wasn’t my story. Except it was. I had done a lot of digging to discover that the inspector who shut down Georgianne and Tatum was crooked.
I wanted to do the story myself, make a big splash, make my own bosses happy.
And then I realized it would be better coming from a newspaper that had no interest in the outcome. So I called a reporter friend of mine and gave them the scoop. I had been waiting for it to hit, and it finally had.
“Well, we should have our places back open by Beltane Bash or the Testicle Festival or whatever it is,” Tatum said.
“Great news! Can I report that?” I asked, and they all gave me look like they might do some wand testing on my forehead. I decided to stay quiet about how I was involved with the Lansing State Journal Story. The important thing was that a corrupt official was outed, not that I had been responsible.
“My stories about the re
-openings will be all positive,” I promised. Tatum put her arm around me and gave me a squeeze.
“Sure, tell ‘em I’ve used the downtime to create some special new brews that will get ‘em magically ready for bikini season.”
Bikini season at Widow’s Bay was about five minutes long, but it was glorious.
My band of middle-aged witches was down, but we weren’t out. Of that, I was certain.
We all headed home with a promise to be on call for any wand disasters as the full DLC practiced in the next few days.
And there was a plan already hatching to do an unsanctioned Beltane Bash, no matter what the council said. Candy stepped out of that discussion, but I knew she wouldn’t mind a bit if the Testicle Festival was a bust, so to speak.
After I left my coven, I took one last stop at my office to file the report about the council meeting. I wasn’t surprised in the least to find that Yooperman was doing a live report at the Moose, with a jubilant membership celebrating what they had in store for the Testicle Festival.
They explained that, unlike other similar festivals, they’d not focus on one animal, like cow nuts or a turkey testies but rather open it up to fried testicles of all persuasions.
I wondered if they realized how many members of the DLC wished moose would be on that list.
I was scooped, yet again, this time on the Testicle Festival menu. It proved my business was also hitting a few rough patches, just like my friends’.
I decided not to answer if Justin rang. Instead, I filed my stories and locked up.
I walked to my car, got in, and jumped a foot and half in my seat when something in my rearview moved.
“Hi. Try to act natural.”
“What in the heck are you doing back there?”
The Dad Bod Vampire, Derek Heisenberg, had broken into my car and was crouched in my backseat!
“I said, don’t act like you see me back here.”
He was still balled up and made no attempt to sit up or go for my throat.
“I repeat, why did you break in my car? You have a death wish, right? Brule’s almost killed you twice.”
“Ha, yeah, that’s what I thought it would be like. I’d get all the chicks. I’d have good clothes. You know, high-level vampire perks.”
I rolled my eyes; this guy was a boob. I did feel a little sorry for him, though. I mean, as vampire gigs went, he was getting the bottom of the barrel.
“Get to the point.”
“I have a proposal for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve recruited about a dozen Moose members to be Alvarado’s minions. We’ve all taken his blood, which is so gross you don’t even know. Anyway, my wife is pretty cheesed off that I made this switch without telling her. And a couple of the vamps I recruited are also feeling shortchanged. I mean, I thought I’d lose my gut, you know. Have you ever seen a vampire with a spare tire?”
“No, not until you.”
“Well, moving forward, I’d like to be a double agent.”
“This isn’t the CIA. I’m a reporter.”
“So, what’s it called when you get anonymous insider information?”
“A source. You want to be an anonymous source.”
“Yeah, a highly placed anonymous source with insider information.” He liked the sound of that, apparently.
“And what insider information do you actually have?”
“Whatever The Moose is planning. I’m going to be working from the inside to quietly let my guys know that this vampire gig is a total scam. And I thought you might want to know what stories Man Cave is running or what we’re planning at our meetings?”
“What do you want in return? Seems sort of generous of you.”
“First of all, my wife wants in the DLC. She, for sure, has powers. And she’s so mad at me for this vampire thing. I have been in the doghouse for weeks. I’d maybe get back on her good side if she got in.”
“I don’t make that call.”
“You know who does, though, right? She gets an invite, you get scoops.”
“I will look her up. But I can’t promise anything. The Distinguished Ladies Club is ancient, and our powers stem from forces you can’t even imagine.”
I decided to lay it on thick. Maybe he’d stay in line if thought we could turn him into a newt. Which we could.
“Oh, and also, I need a ride home.”
I rolled my eyes, put the car in drive and pulled out onto the road.
“Where to?”
“I’ve got a split level in Green Hills subdivision.”
I pointed my Jeep towards his neighborhood.
I mulled over his proposition. I really didn’t see a downside. If he gave us some information, great; if he didn’t, well, we weren’t any worse off.
“You have to make me one promise.” I decided to punt.
“Anything.”
“No more blood drinking. I don’t care what you must do, no more members of the Moose transformed into minions of Alvarado or the deal’s off. Your wife can forget getting into the DLC, and you can forget moving out of your doghouse.”
“That’s going to be hard.”
“Well, life’s hard. Switch the blood out for tomato juice if they still insist on taking the stupid deal, which you just said you’re going to convince them is a sucky one.”
“Fine. I’m a super anonymous high placed source, and my wife gets into the DLC.”
“Gets an interview with the DLC. And you make sure I’m not dealing with any more half-baked vampires.”
“Deal.”
Ha! Score one for the forces of good. Derek complained about his life the entire way, and how being a minion meant more chores.
I dropped him off at his house, and the quiet of my Jeep was heaven the minute he left it.
I heard his wife yell something about him forgetting to pick up Diet Pepsi like he promised.
It didn’t seem like she’d fit in the DLC, but I’d try.
I didn’t think I’d fit into the DLC either and here I was.
Chapter 20
I got home to Agnes and Bubba and decided it was very likely that I could sleep for a few days straight. I’d need all my energy if there were going to be an invasion of ballsy proportions in Widow’s Bay.
I knew right away that something was amiss in my house.
I was immediately relieved when Bubba walked up to me. Agnes was perched on his wide haunches, her traditional Cleopatra mode of transport.
“This one might be a keeper. He’s quite the cook.”
“What?”
“See for yourself. Also, contact an attorney so he can set up a trust fund for Bubba and me with those billions.”
Ah, Brule, he was in the house.
Bubba and Agnes sauntered into the dining room, and I noticed as they walked away that they were wearing matching rhinestone studded collars.
“Phht rhinestones, these are diamonds. Brule knows we’re beneath rhinestones.”
I walked into the kitchen, and there was Etienne Brule, making dinner!
“To what do I owe this honor?”
“I have decided to take the night off of patrolling.”
“Is that dangerous?”
“I have enlisted a few friends, called in a few favors, and tonight at least, Widow’s Bay will not be invaded by the minions of Pedro Alvarado.”
“Excellent news.”
I walked to the oven and peeked in.
“Dinner should be ready in about half past the hour.”
“What are we having?”
“Beef bourguignon.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a cook, seeing as food isn’t really vital to you.”
“Food preparation is an art. You know I love all art. Julia Child taught me a few things. She was very powerful.”
“A witch?”
“Naturally.”
“I have some news!” I told him about the Dad Bod Vampire’s offer.
“If he proves useful, tha
t is good. But do not trust him. He still has a lust for blood and does not appear to be very intelligent. This is never a good combination.”
“Duly noted.”
We had a bit of time before the food would be ready.
“Let us go to your study. I have decanted some wine from my cellar. It is good, but I apologize for the newer vintage. My older wines are in France.”
I walked into my den and picked up the bottle. There was a fire going in the fireplace.
“Hey! Thanks! I was afraid to use it; I didn’t know if the chimney was working or not.”
It appeared to be working great. I looked down at the bottle. There was no label.
“What is this?” I poured a little into my glass and took a sip. The warm liquid helped take another few wrinkles out of my forehead.
“It is a J.S. Terrantez Madeira.”
“Fancy?”
I could distinguish between a box of wine and a bottle, but that was the limit of my knowledge. I only knew to pace myself, or I’d have a killer headache no matter what I drank. Unless it was one of Tatum’s special no hangover brews.
“It was Jefferson’s favorite, he gave me a case. Though he did like a sweeter vintage than I, I have found this has mellowed over time.”
I spit the wine out. It sprayed into the air.
“Are you ill?”
“You’re telling me this is wine from the17-hundreds? As in Thomas Jefferson?”
“Yes, do you not like red? Would a white have been better?”
I plopped down in my comfy couch. And then I took another swig. I mean, since it was already open.
“This is fine. Good enough for the Founding Fathers, good enough for me.”
I raised my glass, and Brule returned the gesture.
“I have another surprise for you.”
I didn’t know if I could handle any more surprises in a lifetime.
“Lay it on me.”
“I have acquired a subscription to Netflix, so we can finally, as you say, Netflix and Chill!”
This time I made sure to swallow the several-hundred-year-old Thomas Jefferson wine, but after that, I couldn’t hold back. I laughed; it was a laugh that shook me from head to toe.
Wands Have More Fun Page 16
