The Witches Three Cozy Mysteries 1-3

Chapter 8

Chapter 7

I lingered too long under that deliciously hot water, fogging up not just the mirror but the entire bathroom. I would have expected a house so old would offer the same showers I was used to in my apartment back home: lukewarm with very little water pressure. The moment I stepped under that blast of water it was like a full body massage, finding all the little aches and pains from my long day on the bus and spiriting them away.

I don't remember getting out of the shower. I do remember wrapping the robe back around myself, thick and fluffy like a blanket.

The hardwood floor in the hallway and bedroom was cold under my bare feet and I raced to the bed to stand on the rug while I dug out clean clothes.

At least, that had been the plan. But the zipper on my bag was stuck and I sat down on the bed to get a closer look at it.

Then, and this I don't remember at all but I must have done it, I laid down and drifted off to sleep.

It wasn't a really deep sleep. I kind of felt like I was still awake, but in too blissful a state to bother with moving.

I thought I heard a radio playing in some other part of the house, some trick of acoustics bringing the tinny sound to my ears. As I drifted closer to slumber the music would grow louder, then dimming again when I rousted almost to the point of opening my eyes.

It felt like this went on forever, but the spell was broken by a hand on my shoulder roughly shaking me.

"Wha…?" I stammered, clutching the robe around me as I hiked up on one elbow.

"You fell asleep," Brianna said, stepping back as if touching me had burned her. "The others are waiting in the dining room. It's time to eat."

"Oh!" I said, rubbing at my face and looking around for a clock. I didn't see one. "I'm sorry. I'll be right down."

"I'll tell them," Brianna said and turned to head back out the door.

"Hey," I said, snapping fully awake. "Did you hear music just now?"

"Music?" she said with a frown.

"At first I thought someone in the house had a radio on, but just now it sounded more like a live band in the backyard," I said.

"I think you were dreaming," Brianna said. "You should get dressed now. Mr. Trevor is waiting for you before he dishes up the stew, and I don't think Sophie is the most patient person in the world."

"No, I don't think so either," I said. "I'll be right down."

But the moment she left the room, rather than reaching for my clothes I hopped off the bed and looked out the window that overlooked the backyard. Nothing but plants and trees, and I wasn't hearing the music any longer.

But I really didn't think I had dreamed it. It must be some quirk of old house acoustics. Mr. Trevor looked like he could be a Cole Porter fan. Cynthia too for that matter.

I shook out clothes that had gotten woefully wrinkled while packed together in my bag and pulled them on then sat on the bed again to get my sneakers back on. I was about to go charging out of the room when I caught a glimpse of myself in the little mirror over the dresser.

I had laid down on the bed face-down, but not entirely. At some point I had rolled my head to one side so I could breathe. And I could totally tell which side. Sleeping on wet hair was never a good idea. Now I had the mother of all cowlicks spinning over one temple, throwing my bangs in disarray and making one side of my thick curly hair look oddly flat.

Brushing through it only made it worse. I dug a hairpin out of the front pouch of my bag and twisted the side up and back then pinned it down over the cowlick. Not the most elegant of hairstyles, but it would have to be good enough.

If Sophie ever lightened up I would have to ask her what her trick was for getting her own curls to obey her finger-combing even after being crushed by a hat. That sort of thing could really come in handy.

I thought I would save some time by running down the narrower back stairs, but I had to slow way down as the steps were narrower and steeper and, honestly, felt like they wanted to kill me.

I startled everyone by bursting into the dining room from the doorway opposite the one they were all watching. Sophie at least made an effort to pull the scowl from her face by pursing her lips and looking down in her own lap.

"Sorry," I said. "Unscheduled nap."

"We completely understand," Cynthia said, and Mr. Trevor murmured his agreement as he got to his feet and removed the cover from the tureen sitting in the center of the table to start filling bowls with steaming brown and orange stew. I started to slide into the closest empty seat but realized it was the one at the head of the table. There was no place setting in front of it, just the box still resting there as if waiting for something. I backed away from it and took the only other empty chair.

Why had Mr. Trevor taken that box back down?

Why did I still have the almost overwhelming urge to lift the lid?

What if I woke up in the morning and the "almost" dropped off that "overwhelming?" I had never fought that compulsive feeling before. But if I opened that box, what would happen?

I forced myself to shift my focus from the box to the other people around the table.

"Amanda had the longest journey," Cynthia was telling Brianna and Sophie.

"I thought she came from Iowa," Sophie said.

"I came by bus," I said. "I actually had to catch a ride into South Dakota first to get to the nearest bus station."

"That sounds terribly remote," Brianna said, giving a smile in the general direction of Mr. Trevor as he handed her a bowl of stew.

"I guess that's why they call it flyover country," Sophie said, not unkindly.

Mr. Trevor handed me my bowl last and we all dug in. It was every bit as good as he had promised, and I wasn't just thinking that because I was so hungry and so sick of gas station sandwiches and prepackaged snacks.

We ate in companionable silence for a bit, but curiosity kept poking at my mind. Finally I looked up at Cynthia and said, "I heard music, earlier. Cole Porter, I think? It sounded like it was coming from the backyard."

"I didn't hear it," Brianna reported between spoonfuls.

"Well, it is Friday night," Cynthia said, not quite looking at me. "It's a bit chilly for outdoor entertainment, but there are always a few hardy souls around here who will barbecue in a blizzard without batting an eye, so anything is possible."

"I think she dreamed it," Brianna persisted. "She was asleep when she heard it."

"A good night's sleep will do wonders," Cynthia said and smiled at me again before taking another bite of stew.

"I didn't sleep at all on the bus," I admitted. "Too many crank kids. Too many stops."

I really wasn't looking forward to the ride back. I doubted I would be well enough rested before it was time to go the day after tomorrow, especially as the reading of the will wouldn't start until midnight.

So many crazy stipulations. Miss Zenobia Weekes may have run a very fine school for exceptional young ladies back in her day, but she had also clearly been an eccentric.

"Are you going to see some of the town while you're here?" Sophie asked. "It's not New Orleans, but there must be museums and art galleries around here somewhere."

"And Minneapolis is just across the river," Brianna added.

"I suppose we have all day tomorrow since the reading isn't until midnight," I said. "But I really can't stay longer than Sunday. I don't get paid when I don't work, and a whole weekend off is more than I can afford, really."

"You have your bus ticket back already? Because my ticket was a one-way flight," Brianna said with a glance at Cynthia. "I thought it was a mistake?"

"Mine was too," Sophie said. "Hence the luggage. I didn't want to assume I was ever getting home again. Especially as I now don't have the position I earned in the premiere troupe I've spent my whole life working to get into."

"I can't be away either," Brianna said as if she hadn't heard Sophie at all. "My research is at a crucial point. I'm so close to a breakthrough. I brought what I could carry, but already I've found that I left a text I absolutely need back home in Boston. I have to go home on Sunday as well."

"Whereas I can be here forever now," Sophie said, poking at the last bit of stew at the bottom of her bowl. "No reason to hurry back."

"I truly am sorry, all of you," Cynthia said. "I know coming here involved sacrifices on all of your parts, and that is made all the more meaningful because I could tell you so little about why you had to come."

"If we could just book my flight home? I like knowing what's going on. I like having a schedule. I have to be able to plan," Brianna said.

"Just one more day," Cynthia said. "Everything will make sense after the reading."

"You keep saying that," Sophie said.

"I know," Cynthia sighed and rubbed at her forehead. "It is the one truth I can share with you. But think about it, you know some things require delicate timing. If you think it through, weigh your feelings and what you sense through your intuition, I think you'll come to the conclusion that you can have just a little faith, and wait one more day."

Brianna glanced over at Sophie, who had a dreamy look on her face as if she truly were going within to consult her intuition.

I was pretty sure my rare strong feelings weren't the sort of intuition that Cynthia was talking about. And anyway I couldn't just consult with them on command.

"One day," Brianna said. I wasn't sure if she was agreeing to the terms or just merely restating them.

"I know it's asking a lot," Cynthia said. "But you three are special. Miss Zenobia tasked me with tracking you three down in particular. She taught many students over her long years, and those students have had countless children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. But it was you three she wanted summoned for the reading of her will."

"But I never even met her," I said.

"Me neither," Brianna said.

"I never even heard of her," Sophie said forcefully. "And if she's who you're implying she is, I really should have."

Cynthia bit her lip and I could tell she was struggling with what she could say. She was a lawyer. She navigated rules I couldn't even contemplate, I was sure.

"There could be a reason for that," she said at last, fixing Sophie with a steady gaze. "Stipulations. Binding… agreements."

"Oh," Brianna said as if knowledge were blooming fully formed in her mind. Sophie was still frowning but conceded Cynthia's point with a frown.

I alone was lost. I alone had no idea what anyone was talking about.

Miss Zenobia might have her reasons for choosing Brianna, who seemed like she would be wickedly brilliant if she weren't so offbalance, and for choosing Sophie who was clearly well-educated and poshly sophisticated.

But me? I was a good server in the diner I worked in. The regulars liked me, and those stopping in off the highway as they passed through always took a shine to me as well. But I wouldn't chalk any of that up to "charm" in the way it meant next to the word “school.”

The one special thing about me was a thing I had no control over.

"How did that get down again?" Mr. Trevor said suddenly, and got up from his chair to pick up the dark wooden box and set it once more on top of the hutch.

Really, what was in that box? The curiosity was driving me mad.

But if one of the others had moved it, I wasn't the only one fascinated with it.