Midlife in Glimmerspell

by Addison Moore

  “Oh, you’ll never guess what happened this morning!” She touches her hand to mine and I glare right at my old engagement ring until she pulls it away as if yanking it from a fire. “Anyway, Harold called the realtor and pulled the house off the market.”

  “What?” I squawk so loud all of the women in the room, and most likely half the fetuses here, too, turn in my direction. “What did he do that for?”

  “Well, he tried to buy it, but the realtor told him it would be easier for him to buy you out than go around the block trying to get a loan for a house he already owns.”

  “Buy me out? As in he’s keeping the house?”

  “We’re keeping the house,” she corrects. “We’ll have to add on. I don’t know how you managed with that thimble of a master closet. And that kitchen?” She wrinkles her nose with disgust. “I need marble counters and a walk-in refrigerator if he expects much out of me in there.”

  “I don’t think he expects much out of you in any room but one,” I say as I sag in my seat. “Hey? Did you know that Harold saw Dr. Goldman about his big problem last week?” My eyes bulge in anticipation of the big secret I might just wiggle out of her.

  Her hot pink lips fall open. “What problem?”

  “Well, if Harold’s not telling you, neither am I.” I do a once-over, up and down her body. “But if I were you, I’d have the doctor check you for STDs while you’re here.”

  “What’s the Student Transfer Department have to do with this?”

  “Oh, never mind.” It’s evident Charlene here doesn’t have enough brain cells for me to toy with. It’s cruel on some level for me to even try. “I’d better get these forms filled out.” I’m about to get straight to plowing through them, but Charlene taps her hand over the page I’m working on in a blatant disregard for my sanity. Those tiny microscopic diamonds from my old engagement ring wink over at me as if they’re cheering her on.

  “Speaking of paperwork, you won’t believe where Harold and I are going for our honeymoon.”

  My mouth falls open. I have zero idea how she connected those dots, but I’ll bite.

  “Middle earth?”

  “No, silly.” She slaps my arm. “The Bahamas. He got a great deal on a seven-day cruise next September. That’s just the right time for me to leave the rugrat after I have the baby next July. And guess what? We’re gonna need a sitter.”

  “Good luck with that,” I say, getting back to the paperweight on my lap.

  Word on the street is the vet has an entire row of kennels available, but I keep that tidbit to myself.

  “Harold says that Harper will do it. But I think you’re the woman for the job, Billie.”

  “What?” I squawk once again. My God, I had no idea the blonde ditz was about to unleash a verbal shock and awe campaign on me. Had I known I would have set my hair on fire just to get the horror in my life over with quicker.

  “That’s right.” She gives a definitive nod. “You did such a great job with Harper, I have no doubt you’ll do a number on my little sugar booger.”

  “I’m going to do a number on someone, all right,” I mutter. “The answer is no. A hard no. And I’m declining for Harper as well. Not only will she be just out the gate in her senior year, but you don’t even know Harper. Please at least meet the people you’re about to hand off your spawn to.” I don’t know why I just doled out rational advice other than the fact when I hear her baby was kidnapped by hippies I won’t feel as if I didn’t do my part in an effort to stop it.

  She snorts. “I know Harper plenty. I stalk her on all of her social media sites. And you can tell her I think her new boyfriend is looking mighty fine. Woo-wee.” She fans herself with her fingers. “That Royce Greenly sure is a looker. He takes after his uncle, if you know what I mean.”

  “Royce Greenly?” I gag on the kid’s name. “That’s Elliot’s son!” And per Iona, he’s off-limits, too. Perfect. Although this is most likely just a high school fly-by-night relationship. Harper hasn’t been serious about a boy for longer than three hot minutes. And according to my watch, she’s about to give Royce Greenly a kick to the mighty fine curb.

  The nurse steps out of the door that leads to those coveted stirrups and shouts, “Billie Buttonwood?”

  “I’ve never been happier to be myself,” I mutter as I speed her way.

  “Wait!” Charlene calls after me. “We leave the first week of September. Be sure to mark it on your calendar so you won’t forget!”

  I shut the door behind me and force myself to forget all about Charlene, Harold, and their tropical honeymoon on the spot. I hope the whole ship gets swallowed alive by a hurricane. Okay, that was mean, and perhaps a tad too homicidal, but I can’t help it. My hormones are off the chain and so am I by proxy.

  It takes twenty minutes for me to complete the paperwork, and change into a gown constructed from tissue paper. There’s a nurse in the corner studying her phone and seems to be tuned out to the events occurring around her. Can’t blame her. I’d have nightmares if I had to supervise these dicey appointments day in and day out.

  I lie back and open my legs wide per Elliot Greenly’s command.

  Okay, fine. Per Warren Greenly’s instructions—but wow, he’s a looker in his own right. Same dark hair and green eyes, but oddly he looks less like a sibling to Elliot than Sheriff Archer does. And that’s odd considering they’re not blood-related.

  “So you know my brother?” He gives a short yet jovial laugh. I couldn’t help but ask the obvious, and so far Dr. Greenly is far friendlier than Detective Greenly can ever hope to be. I’ve already filled him in on my night sweats and hot flash horrors—sans the details of the actual time-traveling horror. And he’s surmised I’m fairly normal. I’d love to correct him and bring up that whole dancing my way around the calendar willy-nilly thing, but I don’t have time to squeeze in a shrink this afternoon.

  A deranged grin flickers on his lips as he sits on a stool and his face pops up between my knees.

  “Excuse me, my hand may be cold,” he says as he begins to poke and prod, and in my mind’s eye I’ve just gone to places with Elliot that I’ve never planned on heading.

  My word, I squirm, I can’t get rid of the visual of Elliot’s body hovering over mine, and judging by that naked chest, he doesn’t have much on.

  “Yes, I do know your brother. Both of your brothers, actually. I met Rex, too.” My voice squeaks as he stands and takes off his gloves. “I mean, we’re acquaintances, that’s all. I just moved to Glimmerspell.”

  “I see.” He smiles as he says it. So far I’ve lost track of all the smiles Warren here has given and yet can count on one hand how many Elliot has doled out—and still have four fingers and a thumb left over. “And how do you like it there? Meet any interesting people?” He steps over to me, pulls the gown apart at my chest, and begins slowly massaging my boobs with his hands. “My apologies again if my hands are cold.”

  “You’re fine.” An image of Elliot doing this exact same thing, albeit with a little more vigor, flits through my mind and I take a quick, gulping breath.

  “I’ll go easier,” he says.

  “No worries. And yes, I’ve met plenty of interesting people. I’m pretty sure that’s all they’ve got over there.”

  He bounces out a laugh as he closes up my gown once again. “You’d be correct.”

  “I’ve got my first date in just a couple of hours, and I’m actually pretty excited about it.” Excited that Elliot will be grinding his teeth at the thought, or at least that’s the delusion I choose to believe.

  “You don’t say? Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Cash Archer,” I say, sitting up. “He’s the sheriff down in Winchester County.”

  Dr. Greenly’s features go rigid. “Does Elliot know about this?”

  “Funny you should ask—” And honestly, that is kind of funny but not in the ha-ha way. “He does.”

  He chuckles at the thought. “Well then, you kids have fun.”

  A s
mile blinks over my face. “I’m sure we will.”

  And for the next few hours I wonder what Dr. Greenly found so funny.

  Chapter 10

  Fae Gardens is located across the street more or less from Rex’s Stake House and a hop and a supernatural skip from Wolfgang’s Bistro. The exterior stone walls are covered with large blue butterflies and it looks ethereal. The windows shine an iridescent shade of blue as if they were made of candy. The sign on the door boasts of dinner, dancing, live music, and magic! And already I’m looking forward to having a good time. Inside it’s warm, dimly lit, and the scent of grilled burgers and French fries holds the promise of a delicious meal.

  After my vaginal meet and greet with Elliot’s brother, I ran home, showered, primped and primed myself, squeezed into a little black dress Sunny lent me, then promptly dashed right back out the door. Harper wasn’t home, so I couldn’t grill her on her feelings about Royce Greenly just yet, but I’ll cross that Iona-shaped bear trap when I get the chance.

  I have news for Iona Slade. We Buttonwood women don’t take orders from anyone. Although, I happen to agree with her on a couple of points, two of them being stay away from Elliot and Royce. I don’t need an ornery jerk like Elliot in my life. And Harper sure as heck doesn’t need to join the Fourth of July baby spectacular. She doesn’t need boys right now. She needs books. And maybe some cuddle time with Grizabella and Acorn.

  I hopped into my minivan and drove straight down to Main Street. Cash offered to pick me up, but that reeked of real date material, and as much as this might be a real date, I like the idea of having a quick bite with a new friend a little bit more. Even though Harold plowed right into his next relationship, in the sexual sense—don’t think it’s lost on me that Charlene’s last name is Plowmen either—well, I’m not so gung-ho to dive into the deep end of the dating pool just yet. And to be honest, if Elliot wasn’t standing right there next to me when Cash threw out the offer, I might not have accepted it.

  But here we are. In fact, here he is, indeed.

  Cash Archer is chatting with the hostess, a hot twenty-something with big eyes, long lashes, and bloated lips—who just so happens to be drooling over his sleeve as if she knew what item she wanted added to her private menu.

  “Billie Buttonwood.” Cash beams that mega-watt smile my way, still dressed in his tan sheriff’s garb with his gun tucked into his holster for all to see. His dark hair is slicked back, his blue eyes shine with a smile all their own, and as friendly as he seems, there’s still something about him that screams I’m going to eat you.

  I’ll admit, that has me a bit wary.

  He offers me a warm embrace as if we were old friends, and that’s the nice thing about this man. He has the capability to truly make me believe that’s the case. Cash is what my mother used to call a charmer. My grandmother, who was a little more to the point, would have called him a playboy or a jackass—to her they were interchangeable. But right now, I appreciate the warmth he’s exuding, so I go with it.

  “Billie”—he pulls back and examines me from head to toe—“you look stunning this evening.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get to pair snow boots with a cute little dress.” I slap my thigh as if to annunciate my point. “The dress is on loan, and I’m not brave enough to trek through the snow in heels.”

  “Ah well, you’re a wise woman. Please excuse my uniform. It’s been a long day, and I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  “Don’t apologize. Women love a man in uniform.” I make a face at the hostess. “Besides, I feel safer with you around already.”

  “As a new resident of this fine town, I always want you to feel safe.” He grimaces a moment and looks decidedly like Elliot. So much so, that if I hadn’t seen them together, I would have thought Elliot was pulling my leg.

  The hostess comes over with little wings splayed out behind her ears via a headband, a silver-blue dress with matching high heels, and little angel wings around her ankles as well. Her skin shimmers a strange shade of light blue, and there’s a glow about her as if she wasn’t human at all. She reminds me a lot of Sunny, and now I’m wondering if that blue sparkly powder dusted over their faces is some new trend I’m not aware of.

  She waves us over and we follow along as she leads us into an expansive room comprised of dark rock walls with ferns and exotic greenery stemming from it every which way. A bona fide waterfall streams down the eastern wall, and up front there’s a stage that looks more like a cave with a live band crooning out country music.

  We’re seated off to the side of the dance floor, and there’s a tiny basin of crystal blue water near the wall to our left filled with lily pads and a sparkling fountain.

  The hostess takes off and a redhead pops up in her place with miniature wings next to her ears, a bigger pair over her back, along with the requisite iridescent blue dress on, and I gasp at the sight of her.

  It’s the redhead I saw talking to Griffin Barker the day of the murder. It’s the exact redhead Vera told me to speak with—the one with the secret—Silvia Arden.

  Ha! It’s a small homicidal world after all.

  “Welcome to Fae Gardens.” She winks over at Cash, and yet this blatant flirting doesn’t bother me for some reason. “My name is Silvia, and I’ll be your server. The special tonight is the bacon western cheeseburger with our house dressing and onion rings. You can add a soup or salad for just a dollar. Soup of the day is clam chowder.”

  “The burger sounds great,” I tell her. “I’ll take it. And add the chowder, too.” I’ve never been the girl who tries to impress her date by way of grass clippings. Not that this is a date, but still.

  “I’ll have the same,” Cash says and we order up a couple of drinks before my next suspect takes off for the kitchen.

  “Sheriff Archer.” I grin over at him. “I have to say, I’m glad you asked me to dinner.”

  “Cash,” he corrects. “And I’m happy to hear it.” He squints my way. “Why do I get the feeling this has little to do with me?”

  “It doesn’t, but don’t let it pop your ego. You’re hot stuff, and you know it.” I wink before leaning in. “That waitress—I saw her having a tense conversation with Griffin Barker on the afternoon he was killed. She’s next on my list of people to question.”

  His brows hike a notch. “You’re investigating?”

  “Darn right, I am. Griffin fell right on top of me before he bit the big one. Iona Slade outright accused me of doing the deadly deed. Don’t think I’m going to wait until that bumbling detective solves this case.”

  A sharp laugh comes from him, and instantly I feel major regret for referring to Elliot as a bumbling detective.

  I clear my throat. “Okay, so I don’t know Detective Greenly well enough to accuse him of not being up to par as far as his career goes,” I’m quick to add. “But I’ll be honest, between the corpse my marriage had become and the literal corpse that landed at my feet, I needed a distraction and this case has provided just that.”

  A smile curls into his cheeks. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Elliot and I exchange as few words as possible. I like your initiative. Most people wouldn’t have been so eager to talk to others about the case let alone a suspect. How are you liking Glimmerspell?”

  “I love it so far. My daughter loves it, too. Maybe a little more than I want her to. She’s in high school, a junior, and already has a good friend by her side—Sadie Kelly, Sunny’s daughter. I just don’t want Harper to get boy crazy on me and forget about her studies. She’s on the college track, and I’d like to keep her that way.”

  He shakes his head. “Tell me about it. My son, Aiden, is a senior and I have a daughter, too, Molly. She’s a junior like your daughter. I’m sure she’ll get to know Harper soon enough.”

  “Oh, that’s great. I really wanted Harper to make new friends. You know it’s not easy switching schools midyear. All the cliques are already formed, and I was so afraid she’d hate it. But knock on
wood, so far so good. So do you have any leads on the case?”

  “Nothing significant, but it’s in Elliot’s hands.” He frowns as he says it.

  “Why do I get the feeling you and the good detective aren’t slinging high-fives back at the precinct?”

  “Because you’re intuitive. And you’re right. We’re not friendly, but we don’t have to be. We’re simply colleagues who tolerate one another.”

  “You sure look alike.”

  “It means nothing,” he growls out the words, and I get the feeling their rift is more than skin deep on many levels. But I’m not in a hurry to put him in a bad mood. “Are you divorced?” I wrinkle my nose at the odd question. “Sorry. That’s not exactly the icebreaker I should have gone with. But you mentioned the kids—and here we are, so I’m assuming you don’t have a missus in the wings.”

  “Divorced thirteen years. Married six. Mirella Landry—she reverted back to her old surname. She works at her father’s farm, Landry Farm to Table.”

  “I can relate on that whole old surname thing. I was a Boobe. And you can guess how many times that’s been pronounced the fun way.”

  He chuckles on my behalf and I join him.

  It’s easy with Cash. And it feels as if a genuine friendship is forming.

  “Cash, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  No sooner does he get the word out than our burgers arrive fresh off the grill sitting in a halo of crispy golden onion rings large enough for me to wear as bracelets.

  Silvia grins down at us—mostly at Cash—as those tiny wings clipped near her ears flap back and forth as if they were the real deal.

  “If you need anything at all, and I mean anything,” she postures herself with her chest out toward the gun toter among us, “I’m your girl.”

  “I’ll need something,” I flatline her way and she frowns because, let’s face it, I’m not the one she’s interested in entertaining with her heaving bosom. “But not until later.” And what I’ll need is a brief conversation with her regarding that little angry powwow she had with Griffin on the day he was murdered.