4 Witching On A Star Read online

  “We did,” I said. “When they first opened. They both got the front page spot on different weeks.”

  “Oh,” Sam looked nonplussed. “How about the new inn that’s opening on the edge of town? The Dragonfly, I think it’s called.”

  I narrowed my eyes in his direction. “They’re still months away from opening. We’ll do a story when it’s closer. We already did one announcing the business.”

  “How do you know that it’s not ready to open?” Sam asked.

  “I was just out there last night.”

  “Oh, to see if it was close to opening?”

  “No, to have dinner. I got the tour while I was there, though.”

  “To have dinner? Are you dating the owner or something?” Sam’s question was pointed.

  Now that was definitely none of his business. “No,” I shook my head. I didn’t like the keen way Sam was looking at me. He was far too interested in things he had no business being interested in.

  “The owner is her father,” Brian supplied. I wanted to kick him.

  “Oh,” Sam said. “I see. Well, that will make getting the interview easy.”

  Brian laughed jovially but I was uncomfortable with the way he said it. I had no idea why, but there was something about Sam Cornell that was starting to seriously rub me the wrong way. I decided to refrain from saying anything at this point, though. Maybe they would just go away if I was suddenly rendered mute?

  “Well, I’m sure we can think of something,” Sam said finally.

  “I’m sure,” Brian agreed.

  “Why don’t you let me poke around town and I’ll come up with some ideas to help you,” Sam offered. “It’s got to be hard, mired in this town day in and day out, to come up with fresh ideas. I would love the chance to give you a hand.”

  I realized, after a second, that both Brian and Sam were watching me – waiting for an answer.

  “That sounds great,” I said finally, getting to my feet. “Have at it.”

  “Good,” Sam said with a wide smile.

  “Is that all? I really need to meet Thistle and Clove for lunch.” That was a blatant lie but I needed to get out of this room before I exploded.

  “Oh, sure,” Brian said. “Sorry to keep you.”

  Brian and Sam started to move towards the door. As they did, Edith floated towards me. There was no mistaking anything this time. Sam Cornell tracked Edith’s movements as she moved to the center of the room. Edith noticed it, too. She looked to me curiously. I gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head to warn her not to say anything.

  With one more final goodbye, Sam and Brian exited into the hallway. I remained standing behind my desk, watching them as they moved down the hallway and finally out of sight.

  “He saw me,” Edith whispered.

  “He did,” I agreed.

  “Why didn’t he say something?”

  “I have no idea. I’m going to find out, though. You can count on that.”

  Eight

  I needed some air. I had to get out of The Whistler and away from Sam Cornell. Even though Edith was pestering me with an endless stream of questions, I ignored them all, grabbed my coat, and exited the paper through the back door.

  I had told Brian I was meeting Thistle and Clove for lunch – which was true – but I had an hour to burn. I decided to burn it with a walk to clear my head.

  After strolling by the docks – which were empty – and past the library, which was busy for the middle of the week, I found myself in front of the small cemetery at the south edge of town.

  The cemetery was old. The headstones were big and ornate. The foliage – when in bloom – was intricate and rich. As part of the rebranding, the town had refurbished the wrought-iron gate and adorned the surrounding cement fence with several gargoyles in various states of menacing protection. I loved the little cemetery. Yeah, I loved it.

  When I was a kid, I would spend hours in the cemetery talking to my “imaginary friends.” The townspeople thought I was weird. They had no idea about my gift. As I got older, I learned to hide my ability out of fear. Everything you’ve heard about small towns is true. They’re gossip factories. And, even as I got older, I still heard the whispers. Everyone in town thought the Winchester women were weird but Bay, well, she was weird even by Winchester standards.

  Clove and especially Thistle had gotten in many a fight to protect my honor when we were kids. Thistle was still spoiling for a fight whenever someone was mean to me as adults – but I had learned to ignore it, or at least I tried to fool myself that I had.

  I let myself into the cemetery through the gate and looked around. It didn’t look like the town beautification committee had been by yet – but that wasn’t surprising. They had a lot to clean up after the harsh winter and the cemetery wouldn’t be a focus for at least another few weeks. The town itself – the streets and gardens – were the main priority right now.

  I meandered through the cemetery a few minutes, lost in thought. Could Sam Cornell see ghosts? If he could, why didn’t he acknowledge Edith? Maybe he was like me and hid his gift. He probably didn’t realize that I could see Edith, too. Or, maybe I was imagining the whole thing. Maybe he had seen a shadow of Edith – which many people were capable of, even if they didn’t know it – and he was just reacting to that shadow?

  Maybe I was going to drive myself crazy with all of this.

  I made my way over to my Uncle Calvin’s grave, stopping to clean off some winter debris before moving on to my grandmother’s tombstone. We usually came out to clean up the family plots together in the spring. The truth was, I didn’t come to the cemetery alone very often anymore – mostly out of fear that someone would see me talking to myself and the whole rumor mill would start up again.

  As if on cue, I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye and turned. The cemetery had a few regular visitors – most of whom I remembered from my childhood – but the figure standing to the left of Uncle Calvin’s tombstone was one I recognized from earlier this week – not my childhood.

  It was the little girl from the inn. The one I had seen hiding amongst the trees.

  “Hi.” I greeted the child calmly. I didn’t want to scare her away again.

  The little girl’s eyes widened in surprise. She glanced behind her and then back to me. I couldn’t figure out what she was doing.

  “Are you lost?”

  The little girl continued to stare at me. I took a step towards her, causing her to move backwards a step. When I got a closer look, I grimaced. I realized now what I hadn’t seen – but should have – from the beginning. She wasn’t a lost little girl; she was a dead little girl. She was a ghost.

  Crap.

  I glanced around the cemetery, hoping no one was in earshot. When I didn’t see anyone, I turned back to the little girl. “Are you from around here?”

  The little girl still wasn’t speaking. She watched me, every move, every gesture, but she didn’t open her mouth and try to speak. I figured she was stunned someone had actually been able to see her. I was hopeful, when that wore off, she would try to communicate with me.

  I took the chance to look her over. Her skin wasn’t just black, it was ebony – which was why I hadn’t realized she was a ghost right away. She was dressed in a plain white dress, one that looked like it had seen better days even when it was real. Her black hair was wild – despite the braids – and her dark eyes were bright and inquisitive, although filled with fear.

  “Well, you’re not a big talker, huh?” I was going for levity.

  Still nothing.

  “How about we play a game?” I suggested. “Hide and go seek? How about that?”

  The little girl continued to stare at me, her hollow dark eyes searching for some answer she wasn’t getting.

  “I’ll hide and you come find me,” I suggested, looking towards the larger tombstones a few rows away. “How does that sound?”

  When I turned back, she was gone again.

  “Or, maybe
you can hide,” I muttered.

  I glanced around the cemetery, giving it a cursory search, but I couldn’t find her. I figured, now that she knew I could see her, she would find me again. After about a half an hour of waiting, I gave up and headed towards Hypnotic.

  When I entered the store, I found Clove and Thistle bagging herbs at the little craft table in the corner. “I just saw a ghost,” I announced.

  “Edith?” Thistle didn’t bother looking up.

  “No, not Edith. It was a little girl. The little girl I saw out at the inn. It turns out she’s a ghost.”

  Clove looked up in surprise. “The little black girl is a ghost?”

  “Yep.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw her at the cemetery.”

  “Just because she was at the cemetery, that doesn’t mean she’s dead,” Thistle scoffed.

  “She was floating and had no feet.”

  “Oh,” Thistle shrugged. “Then she’s a ghost.”

  “Did she tell you what she wants?” Clove asked.

  “No, she didn’t speak,” I admitted. “I think she’s scared.”

  “I bet,” Thistle said blithely. “There’s a weird woman talking to ghosts in the cemetery. Who wouldn’t be afraid? What were you doing in the cemetery anyway?”

  I told them about Sam Cornell – including the fact that I was sure he had seen Edith – and waited for them to respond. I expected histrionics from Clove and a string of curses from Thistle. I got neither.

  “That’s weird,” Thistle said finally. “Does he really think that this area can sustain a paper three times a week?”

  “That’s what you find surprising? Not the fact that he could see Edith?”

  “It was bound to happen eventually,” Thistle replied nonchalantly. “You’re not the only one with that gift. Odds are that he does what you do and just pretends he doesn’t see them when he’s around other people.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that he’s suddenly in town?”

  “Should it?” Thistle looked confused. “He’s just a numbers cruncher from the city. He’ll realize soon enough that this isn’t going to work and leave. I don’t see any reason to freak out.”

  “I hope so,” I grumbled.

  “What’s he look like?” Clove asked suddenly.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I was just wondering.”

  “She wants to know if he’s hot,” Thistle laughed.

  “I do not!” Clove looked scandalized, but her cheeks colored all the same.

  Thistle was right. Clove was always on the lookout for new men in the area. The pickings in Hemlock Cove were mighty slim – especially in our age group. Unfortunately, the last one she was interested in turned out to be a drug dealer from Canada. The one before him had been Brian Kelly – and no one wanted that – although I had a feeling there was still a little interest there.

  “He’s attractive,” I said finally. “High cheekbones. Brown hair and eyes. Looks like he has a decent body.”

  “Hmm,” Clove looked interested. Great.

  “He’s also a danger to us,” I reminded her. “If he finds out I can see ghosts then he could tell someone.”

  “Landon knows,” Clove pointed out. “That turned out to be fine.”

  “Yeah, but it could have gone either way,” Thistle said sagely.

  She had a point.

  “Fine,” Clove pouted. “I’ll stay away from the hot new visitor and remain a lonely spinster while you two are happy with your hot boyfriends.”

  Thistle smirked, but I felt a small tug of pity for Clove. She had been left to her own devices a lot more lately since Thistle and I were so often engaged with Landon and Marcus.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “If you want to meet him, I’m sure that will be fine.”

  “Pushover,” Thistle teased. “So much for protecting the family secret. One look at her crestfallen face and you fold.”

  Clove shot Thistle a dark look. “I don’t have a crestfallen face.”

  This was getting us nowhere. “So, we’re all just ignoring my worry about the new guy in town?”

  “Pretty much,” Thistle said. “It’s not like we can do anything about it.”

  “I think you’re overreacting,” Clove said honestly. “It’s not like the big family secret is that much of a secret. Everyone in town knows.”

  “They suspect, they don’t know,” I countered.

  “Oh,” Thistle groaned. “Not this argument again. I can’t take it. Get over it. You were worried about Landon, and look how well he took it.”

  “He didn’t at first,” I bit my lower lip. They were making me feel ridiculous.

  “Well, let’s just wait to see if this guy actually starts acting all squirrely before we start stalking him,” Thistle said. “I think that would be best for everyone. Let’s refrain from gathering pitchforks until we have an actual reason to burn him at the stake.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine,” Thistle nodded, turning to Clove for affirmation.

  Clove, however, was busy staring out the front window of the store. “Who is that?”

  I turned to follow her gaze and frowned. “Sam Cornell.”

  Sam was standing outside of the store and peering in through the window. When he caught sight of me, he waved enthusiastically and moved towards the front door in an obvious effort to enter the store.

  “Why is he here?”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Thistle said. I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t look as sure about his harmless nature as before, though.

  “It’s weird that he just showed up here, right?”

  “Really weird,” Thistle agreed.

  We both watched the front door with trepidation as Sam stepped into our world – bright smile and mysterious intentions completely intact.

  Nine

  “This is a great store!”

  Sam was barely inside Hypnotic before he was dousing both Thistle and Clove with a nonstop litany of compliments.

  “The color palette is pleasing and the way you’ve set up the shelves makes the eyes of your customers dance. They literally dance.”

  Thistle shot a wary glance in my direction. She may have thought I’d been overreacting before, but anyone that immediately tried to blow sunshine up her ass was suspicious in her book.

  “Wow! Look at these great candles. Do you guys have a supplier or do you make them yourself?”

  Sam had made his way over to one of the display shelves –- his back was to the three of us. Thistle was frowning but Clove was smiling.

  I watched as Clove smoothed her long black hair down, checked her teeth quickly in the mirror behind the counter and then made her way over to Sam. “You must be Sam Cornell,” she said by way of introduction. “Bay was just telling us all about you.”

  Sam fixed Clove with a wide and curious smile. “Was she now?” He slid an unreadable look in my direction and then turned back to Clove. “What was she saying?”

  “Oh, nothing major,” Clove said dismissively. “Just about how Brian hired you to decide if The Whistler should be expanded to three days a week.”

  “Is that all she was saying?”

  Sam obviously sensed that Clove would tell him just about anything. He clearly had a sense for reading people.

  Thistle sensed trouble, so she stepped in. “What else would she tell us?”

  Sam glanced at Thistle and frowned when he saw the challenging look on her face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Thistle narrowed her eyes, challenging Sam to defy her. Anyone that knew her would be running and screaming in fear under her stern countenance, but Sam was either too stupid – or just stupid enough – to ignore it. “What do you think Bay said about it?”

  Sam chuckled. “I think she told you that it’s a bad idea and Brian and I are crazy for even considering it.” He slid another sly look in Clove’s direction and winked at her. “Is that what she said?”

&n
bsp; Clove giggled. “Kind of,” she admitted.

  Thistle looked murderous, while I suddenly wished one of Aunt Tillie’s magic moles would open a sinkhole directly underneath me.

  “That’s okay,” Sam held up his hands in a placating manner. “I’m used to people doubting my talents.”

  “I don’t see how anyone could,” Clove said. “I’m Clove, by the way. And that grumpy one over there is Thistle. We’re Bay’s cousins.”

  “Brian filled me in on the family dynamic,” Sam said.

  “I just bet he did,” Thistle replied coldly. “And what did Brian say?”

  “He said that your family ran the best inn in the area, with the best food in the entire state,” Sam beamed at Thistle. When she refused to alter her expression, though, he fixed his attention back on Clove. “He said that you’re all witty and a lot of fun. Oh, and that you’re all unbelievably beautiful.”

  Clove visibly melted under the compliment.

  “Really?” Thistle looked doubtful. “What did he say about Aunt Tillie?”

  Sam furrowed his brow at Thistle’s antagonistic nature. “Is she the elderly aunt that lives with you?”

  Thistle nodded mutely.

  “He said that the sense of family that you all share is amazing,” Sam looked uncomfortable. “That you all keep your aunt living with you, even though she’s suffering from dementia, it just proves what wonderful people you all really are.”

  Thistle laughed hollowly. “Really? That’s what he said?”

  “Did I say something wrong?” Sam looked to Clove, concern etched all over his handsome face.

  “No,” Clove said hurriedly. “It’s not that. Brian is just sort of scared of our Aunt Tillie.”

  “Well, sometimes mental illness makes people uncomfortable,” Sam replied sagely. “It doesn’t mean that person is a bad person, just that he or she might not understand the situation fully.”

  The only one who didn’t understand the situation was Sam Cornell. I couldn’t wait until Aunt Tillie found out that Brian was telling people she had dementia. That would go over about as well as his newspaper expansion plan would.