The next day was when the town’s official name change was to be filed with the state, and while the town was legally bound to go through with the name change, a clerk who’d had her eye on the mayor changed the spelling at the last moment. Instead of filing Perry Falls, she submitted it as Perry’s Fall.
She married the mayor a year later.
That woman was my great-great-great-great-grandmother. She was the one person brave enough to bring dignity back to this town. Her example is the reason I have removed Sylvia Trimble from the Founder’s Day board.
Integrity has to mean something.
My great-grandmother had been on the board for the ball? Was my mother aware of that? How ironic that she was in so tight with Charlotte—Charlee—Harless when the mayor’s grandmother had kicked out her grandmother.
One thing was certain—Mayor Harless’s grandmother had been very full of herself.
My phone alarm went off, earning me a scowl from the librarian. I’d set it as a warning to get to the coffee shop. I knew I should pack everything up—Cyn was counting on me—but I was so close to the house fire. I could feel it.
She’ll understand if you’re a few minutes late.
A week after the gossip post, I found what I was looking for: “Local Woman Dies in House Fire.”
A home on Winter Street was declared a total loss after a house fire on Thursday afternoon. Police say that Sylvia Trimble was the only victim. The victim’s husband was at work during the incident. The fire marshal is still examining the cause of the fire, but the victim was arrested two weeks prior after allegedly starting a fire in the home of Tim and Alberta Roscoe.
Services are pending for the victim.
That was it? My great-grandmother had died in a fire she’d allegedly started herself, and no one had thought anything more about it?
On the same page was an article about the ball, which had apparently taken place the same day.
A chill ran down my back. Could that be a coincidence? I skimmed the article, not the least bit interested in the details about the extravagant party, and was about to pack it up when a photo caught my eye. I didn’t recognize the sharply dressed middle-aged couple in the foreground, but the display they were standing in front of gave me serious déjà vu. A woman held up a round saucer.
The same woman from the mirror my grandmother had given me.
Gasping, I got out my reading glasses (which I only needed for fine print at this point) to magnify the blurry image. Sure, most Grecian figures looked the same, but this woman’s robe was hanging from her breast in the exact same way. Plus, she was peering up at the disc in exactly the same posture as the bas-relief on my mirror. She was standing on a ball, which was a notable difference between the two works, but it looked like there were flowers at her feet. The caption read, “Mr. and Mrs. Baxter Payne standing in front of Persephone’s Mirror.”
Persephone? The goddess who was forced to live in hell for half the year?
I checked my phone and realized I was more than acceptably late. I quickly returned my materials and hurried out to my car. Cyn wouldn’t be mad at me, especially given the circumstances, but I hated to abuse our friendship.
The coffee shop was slammed, so I grabbed an apron and got straight to work. So much for talking things through with Cyn. I didn’t even have time to tell her about my encounter with Tiffany. I’d replayed it over and over in my head during the ten-minute drive, feeling like a total fool. How had I not realized the affair had gone back so much further?
Cyn and her new employee, Indigo, worked as the baristas while I worked the cash register and fetched the bakery items. We didn’t have a lull until shortly after two, and I pulled out my phone to see if the kids had sent me any messages. I still hadn’t heard Harriet’s final decision about going to her father’s, but she would be busy at dance until at least two-thirty. I doubted that I’d hear from her until then. She usually drove herself with the car she and Jack shared, which meant Jack was likely still at home, either sleeping or playing video games.
But there was a text from Richard.
We need to talk.
Great. His topic of choice was anyone’s guess, but I suspected it was either about my chat with his girlfriend or the fact that Harriet and Jack didn’t want to see him. I sure wasn’t going to call him from here. It could wait until after I got off work.
“Everything okay?” Cyn asked, nodding to my phone. I noticed she’d also pulled out her small notebook of “clues” from the other night.
I must have been frowning. “Define okay,” I said with a short laugh. “I’m going to take a quick restroom break.”
“Okay. When you get back, we need to talk about your…situation.”
“Good, because I have information to share.” I headed into the bathroom and did my business, but when I stood in front of the mirror as I washed my hands, I thought I saw several blond strands on the right side of my head. Part of me had wanted to forget what was going on—to pretend it hadn’t happened, but here was the evidence. More blond hair buried in the brown. How long until my hair was completely blond?
I put my hair up and pinned it in place, struggling to tuck all the blond pieces into my French roll. If this kept happening, I suspected I’d only be able to hide it for another day or two.
I started to walk out, but something stopped me. My back. Had it changed? I slipped my arms out of my shirtsleeves and pulled up my shirt to my neck, then glanced over my shoulder into the mirror.
The wings on my back had more detail—the feathers now had lines down the middle.
What the heck was going on with me? Was Cyn right? Was I turning into a fire demon? I didn’t feel particularly wicked, but then again, I’d confronted Tiffany this morning, which was totally unlike me.
When I got back to the service counter, I wasn’t surprised when Cyn shot me a meaningful glance. I noticed she had her pen poised over the page in her little notebook.
“I found something about my great-grandma Sylvia at the library this morning.” Indigo had gone on break, so I moved closer and told Cyn what I’d discovered about Sylvia. She took notes in her book, occasionally glancing up at me with fear—but never disbelief—in her eyes.
“Sounds a lot like what’s happening to you,” she said.
I nodded with a grim look. “There’s more.”
I told her about the hand mirror and the photo of Persephone’s Mirror that looked just like it.
“Persephone?” she blurted out in shock as Indigo returned from the back with a sleeve of paper cups. “Is she linked with fire?”
“No,” Indigo said as she started restocking the cups. “She was married to Hades and lived in the Underworld for two-thirds a year, but there’s no link to fire. You must be confusing her with the Christian version of hell. You know, fire and brimstone.”
Cyn glanced at me and shrugged.
I obviously had some more research to do.
Indigo headed to the backroom again, and Cyn lowered her voice. “What happened at the dinner last night, Darcie? Did something catch on fire in the kitchen?”
I leaned closer to her and whispered, “I had another hot flash, only I was holding a wine glass.”
Her mouth formed an O, and then a grin spread across her face. “That was the…thing your mother thought was a bong.”
“Yeah, the glass got all melty. Ella had to spray my hand with a fire extinguisher.”
“She saw it?” she asked in horror.
“Well, yeah…”
“Ella’s a reporter for the Watchdog,” she said, jotting something down on the pad.
“So? She wouldn’t do a story on me, Cyn. She’s my cousin.”
“Um, have you paid attention to the stories Ella’s been doing? She’s an investigative reporter. I bet she showed up last night to get dirt on your mother.”
“On my mother?”
“Your mother’s a huge supporter of the mayor.”
I shook my head in confusion. “So?�
��
She gave me an exasperated look. “Have you really not been paying any attention to local politics?”
“Uh…” While I knew Cyn was unhappy with the last tax increase, last night was the first time I’d heard there was a proposal to raise them again. But I’d been buried too deeply in my own problems to pay attention to what was going on around me. “No. I guess not.”
“Mayor Harless is trying to bring in big business while taxing small business owners into extinction. But rumor has it she also has ties to a suspect crime boss.”
I blinked hard. “Wait. What?” Her grandmother certainly wouldn’t have liked that.
The door to the shop opened and a family walked in, so Cyn said, “All I’m saying is that Ella likely saw your mother as a potential source and went for it. What other possible reason would she have to accept Harriet’s invitation? And if she saw you…”
Her voice trailed off and she lifted her gaze to the customers at the counter.
My questions kept sprouting new subquestions, and I still didn’t have many answers.
But the continual wave of customers didn’t give me much time to dwell on it, and I ended up working past five, not that I was complaining. Cyn only paid me ten dollars an hour, but I needed the money, especially after my credit card purchases at Macy’s. I did find time to check my phone again, and Harriet had texted to say she was staying home for the weekend and wanted to spend the night at Irene’s. I texted back in agreement, told her to tell her father, then group-texted her and Jack to ask him whether he needed the car. They both agreed that Harriet would keep the car and Jack would get Jeremy to pick him up to spend the night at his house.
I also noticed another text from Richard, telling me to call him—with exclamation marks this time—but I ignored it. If Elena was hurt, he would have called, which meant it wasn’t a real emergency. I was working. It could wait.
Which meant my night was still free. It struck me that while I was garbage at doing research, I knew someone who wasn’t. Well, besides my daughter. Plus, Ella wouldn’t think I was crazy, because she had literally seen what I could do. Maybe I had to confide in her.
I sent Ella a text. I know this is short notice, but are you free for drinks tonight?
I expected her to take some time to answer, so I was surprised when I saw the bubble immediately appear, letting me know she was responding.
Sounds great! How about we meet at Valkyrie at 8?
Perfect! See you then!
“Who are you texting?” Cyn asked. After I told her, she said, “You’re playing with fire, girl.” Then she grimaced. “Sorry, pun not intended.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but I have a new blond streak and there’s more definition on the feathers on my back. I don’t know what any of this means, but I feel like I’m running out of time.”
She made a face. “Why didn’t I ask about that when you told me about the wine glass?” She lowered her voice. “Do you think it’s a good idea to meet with her? What if she uses what she finds out for a story?” She clucked her tongue. “I’d go with you, but I already made plans tonight.”
“With the same person you’re going to the masquerade ball with?”
Her flush confirmed it.
“Why didn’t you say you were dating someone after the whole Parker debacle?”
“You have a lot on your mind,” she said, waving me off. “It didn’t seem like the right time. We have your mystery to solve, after all.”
I took her hands and squeezed them. “You can always tell me anything. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t.”
“Thanks…I really like him. His name is Philip Hinkle. He’s an entrepreneur. He’s launching an internet-based business here in Perry’s Fall. Before he asked me out, he came in to get coffee a few times. The day he invited me to the ball, he confessed that he specifically came to the shop after hearing me talk at the last city council meeting.”
“You spoke at the last city council meeting? How on earth did I miss that?”
She waved her hand. “It’s okay. I didn’t tell you because you were preoccupied with the kids and I was nervous. I figured if I told you it would make me more nervous.”
“Cyn…”
“It’s not a big deal, Darce.”
But I could see she was really excited about this guy. “Well, I hope he’s awesome enough to deserve you.” I grinned. “And if he’s a douchebag, I’ll take care of him.”
She laughed. “Deal. Although you may have your hands full with Ella.” Her face lost color. “Oh. Something just occurred to me. From what you’ve told me, your hot flashes have occurred around the same time for the past three nights. Sometime between seven thirty and eight.”
Oh crap. She was right.
“Maybe move it to eight thirty, just in case.”
“Good idea.”
Thankfully, Ella was open to the time change and didn’t ask why. I figured she’d probably still ask once I got there.
I was putting my phone in my pocket when I heard Cyn say, “Uh-oh.”
I glanced up and my body stiffened when I saw Richard walking through the door.
Great.
Chapter Seventeen
There was no denying Richard Weatherby was an attractive man. His looks had drawn me to him in the first place, and he’d aged well. Although his dark hair had streaks of gray and he had wrinkles, he was tall and still lean, thanks to his near-daily workouts. At least I presumed he still worked out. He needed to more than ever to look good for his child-girlfriend. I nearly laughed at his stereotypical lit professor attire—a cream turtleneck sweater, chinos, loafers, and a three-quarter-length tan dress coat. I didn’t recognize any of it.
He marched up to the counter and I plastered on my customer service face—a look I’d developed for Cyn’s more difficult customers. Only then did it occur to me that this was completely out of character for Richard. He was more of a passive-aggressive guy. Typically, he’d make me come to his turf, where he’d have more control. For him to come here…
Something was definitely wrong.
“Darcie,” he said when he reached the counter. “Why didn’t you answer my texts? We need to talk.”
“I’m working, Richard.”
He wrinkled his nose and said in a snooty tone, “I thought you’d gotten a real job.”
Based on the murderous look on Cyn’s face, she was showing great restraint by not launching herself over the counter to strangle him.
“Any job with a paycheck is a real job,” I said, proud of myself for not showing any signs of my anger. In fact, I was surprised to discover I wasn’t angry. I was irritated, like he was an annoying fly buzzing around. I had a sudden desire for a flyswatter.
“You know what I mean, Darcie,” he snapped.
“No,” I said in a calm voice. “I don’t. A job is a job, and I just happen to be working my second job of the week instead of enjoying a Saturday full of free time. Speaking of which, why are you here instead of with your daughter?”
Guilt flashed in his eyes, but it only lasted for a second before it was immolated by self-righteous indignation.
“Actually, Richard,” I said as a couple walked through the door, “I’m busy, so we can pick this up later.”
“When?” he asked in a huff.
“I’m working until six, but I can probably take a break in about fifteen minutes, if you want to wait.”
He started to protest, but then, to my utter surprise, he stopped and stomped over to a free table.
I shot Cyn a glance and she looked close to kicking him out of the shop, not that I blamed her. “I hope it’s okay if I take a break in fifteen minutes.”
“You can take a break now if you want,” she said, although her expression made it clear she didn’t approve of me talking with him at all.
“No, I want to make him wait,” I said. “He always makes me wait when I text or call about an issue. I figure turnabout is fair play.”
Her eyes narrowed
and she gave me an approving nod. “I like it. You take a break whenever you want.”
The couple approached the counter, but they held back slightly, looking at the menu posted over the coffee bar. I snuck a glance at Richard and laughed. He’d plopped at a table for two and was on his phone, squinting to see the screen. His pride drove him to forgo reading glasses. God forbid he should look his age.
After the couple placed their order, I cleaned the counter behind me and restocked cups before I finally told Cyn that I was ready for my break.
I didn’t plan on having this conversation in the coffee shop, so I grabbed a cup of to-go coffee and my coat and rounded the counter.
He glanced up as I walked toward him. “You’re off work?”
“No, this is just my break, but let’s go outside to talk.”
He didn’t respond, simply got up and pocketed his phone, following me out the front door and around to the side of the building where Cyn had set up several metal tables and chairs. I took a seat, the cold from the metal seeping into my jeans.
Richard shot a disgusted look at the chair.
“Sit if you like,” I said, taking a sip. “I’ve been standing all day, and I’m going to sit for the next fifteen minutes.”
He gingerly sat, looking like he was worried his pants would be stained. “Aren’t you a little too old and well-educated to be working at a food service establishment?”
Had he always sounded like this much of a snob? “I’m not getting into my employment options or choices, though I suspect that’s not why you’re here, so why don’t you get to the point so I can go back inside and you can get back to the children?”
“Harriet and Jack didn’t come,” he said, confused.
“I know,” I said with a wicked grin, then took a sip of my coffee.
Anger flashed in his eyes. “What did you say to Tiffany?”
“You should be asking her that.”
“I did, but she won’t tell me and she’s been distant all day.”
“Nothing but a little girl talk,” I said. “Let’s just say we compared notes.”
He gasped. “You compared our sex life?”
Let it All Burn: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (From the Ashes Book 1) Page 14