by Eve Langlais
“Are you trying to say I might have a ton of family in town that I don’t know about?” I put down the book and held up my glass. “Here’s to not accidentally dating cousins, or other relatives.”
Winnie shuddered as she rose to her feet. “That is just gross.”
“But possible,” Trish added. “Cambden is a pretty small town.”
“Don’t remind me.” Winnie grimaced. “I thought it was hard to date in small town USA, but lost-in-the-wilds Ontario is even more challenging. I swear the average age of the men in town is like sixty, and now I might be related to some of them.” Her lips turned down.
“If you’re that worried about dating a cousin, you could always ask for a DNA test. There’s all kinds of places doing them now,” I stated. Might not be a bad idea. Darryl claimed to have lived here awhile. Could he be related to me? Would it matter? It wasn’t as if we’d be having kids.
I almost blushed as I realized I’d assumed we’d end up having sex. I’d have to make it past chaste kisses first.
“Don’t do it! Everyone knows the government is collecting that data to use against us.” Trish spouted a conspiracy I’d heard before.
“Use it how? It’s not as if we’ve committed any crimes.” At least I hadn’t, unless a little bit of speeding counted.
Trish rolled her eyes. “Not yet, but you should be more worried that they might realize we aren’t one hundred percent human.”
I blinked. Even Winnie looked somewhat taken aback.
“Exactly what are we if not human?” I asked. “Part orc?”
“You’re not. And neither is Winnie.”
“Implying you are?” Times like these, I had to wonder about Trish.
“I’m many things.”
“Yes, you are.” I smirked.
Her lips clamped shut. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Come on, Trish. You gotta admit it sounds farfetched.”
“Just because you’re close-minded when it comes to things outside of your knowledge doesn’t make me a liar. I know a lot. More than you, that’s for sure.”
How had I managed to offend her so easily? I sighed. “I wasn’t trying to start a fight, Trish.”
That quickly, her anger deflated. “I know. It’s just hard for me to understand how two people who used to be so close ended up so far apart.”
“Not so far.” I put my hand on her arm. “And there is nothing wrong with us having different opinions so long as we respect each other. And I do respect you, Trish.”
“Argh,” Trish groaned. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you sound so logical?”
“Speaking of logic.” I pointed to the book. “Maybe instead of looking for a recipe we should get a UV light.”
Trish and Winnie looked at each other. “That’s brilliant. Let’s find one.”
“At this time of night?” I wrinkled my nose.
“Who says you need to go anywhere? You should ask the house,” Trish suggested. “You know it likes to give you what you need.”
“You mean like a garage with a car?”
Both their faces showed puzzlement. It was Winnie who said, “What are you talking about?”
“Am I the only one who never noticed the garage? What happened to the shed?”
“We don’t have a shed,” Winnie declared.
I took a sip of my burning drink. Either I was going senile or strange stuff was afoot. How could I have such vastly different recollections than other people? Could it really be magic? Or was I having hallucinations from swamp gas? Never mind there weren’t any swamps in the area.
“So how would I ask the house?” I had enough tequila in me to be game at this point.
“Ask it nicely. Hey, house, could you give a girl a hand?” Winnie suggested.
“Just demand it. A la peanut butter sandwich, I need a UV light,” Trish quoted, reminding me of the Sesame Street of my youth.
“This is crazy,” I said, and yet I closed my eyes. “House. Could you please provide us with an ultraviolet light?” I waited a second before cracking open an eye. “Did one appear?”
“It won’t just apparate. You’ll have to find it.” Trish’s tone had an eye-rolling hint to it.
Which led to us going on a scavenger hunt throughout the house, peeking in closets and cupboards and drawers, which was how Marjorie found us when she arrived.
“What on Earth are you looking for?” she asked to my ass, which was upended as I crouched to glance under the couch.
I’d not found any kind of UV device but did locate some dirt I’d missed when I cleaned up the plant Grisou knocked over the night before. I’d have to pull out the broom again since the house didn’t appear to be handling it. Odd. Usually it was pretty good at keeping itself clean.
Which reminded me, I’d have to take out the trash under the sink. It had gotten full after I dumped the plant in it, and no one had emptied it.
Who did that usually? Because it occurred to me, I’d never done it thus far. Had Winnie?
“Earth to Naomi. What are you doing?”
“Looking for something that doesn’t exist apparently.” I brushed my hands together to loosen the dirt from the plant. I grimaced as it clung to my skin. I scrubbed my hands on my pants.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, pulling off her coat and boots. “The dinner crowd from the mill just wouldn’t leave. I told Orville he needs to hire at least one more waitress.”
“Two, so you can have a little more free time,” Trish suggested.
“Time to do what?” Marjorie wrinkled her nose.
Sounded like something I’d say. Which was why it seemed strange I had a reply. “Start a hobby. Read a book. Go to the movies.”
“I already do the last two.”
“I thought you always wanted to learn to knit,” Trish said.
“No, I said I admired people who could at that craft fair.” Marjorie held out her hands. “I don’t know if I could wield needles without stabbing someone at one point.” She winked.
But Trish saw the levity for what it was and moved to put her arm around her. “Was it bad again today?”
“Wait, is something wrong?” I asked.
“Not really. Just the men from the mill, and even some of the new women, can be a tad much.”
“Are they touching you? Because that’s illegal,” I huffed.
Marjorie shook her head, “It’s more how they talk to me and treat me, like I’m worse than a piece of gum stuck to a shoe.”
I winced. “That’s awful. I’m surprised Orville allows it.”
“I haven’t told him. He’d toss them out and never mind the fact he’d be ruining his business. I’m handling it.” Marjorie shrugged.
“People will be dicks. Which is when you spit in their food,” Trish replied, still hugging Marjorie.
“I can’t do that!”
“Maybe I can have the house put a hex on them,” I offered.
“Don’t make a mockery of its power.” Trish side-eyed the walls. It was rather ridiculous.
Winnie clattered down the stairs, shaking her head. “I didn’t find anything.”
“I found a hottie,” Trish teased with a wink. Of late they’d been doing more PDA, a term Winnie assured me stood for public displays of affection.
“Stop it,” Marjorie protested, and yet she didn’t move away, despite her blush.
A timer went off in the kitchen.
“What are you making?” I asked as Trish headed for the oven.
“Eggplant lasagna. Chaffle garlic toast. And a sugar-free, crustless cheesecake for dessert.”
It took me a moment before I exclaimed, “You made a low-carb supper?”
“Well, yeah.” My friend rolled her eyes. “You didn’t really think we’d be jerks and make something you couldn’t eat.”
The shame burned as I realized it never occurred to me that they would do otherwise. “Thanks,” I mumbled, taking a sip of my drink and almost spitting it out as I realized I was
drinking in front of Marjorie. Since that would draw more attention, I quickly swallowed and put my glass aside.
“No problem. We should be able to eat in just a few minutes. Just waiting for Darryl to arrive.”
“Darryl’s coming?” For some reason the shock of it had me inhaling, which led to me choking.
Which was, of course, when Darryl arrived.
13
I was still choking as Winnie opened the door for Darryl. Marjorie thumped me on the back, and Trish laughed her ass off.
I was less than amused to greet him with a red face and streaming eyes. To his credit, he looked concerned.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” My voice squeaked. “Wrong tube.”
“Oh.” He gripped my hands. “I heard what happened at the store today. I stopped by, but you were out.”
Exactly how many people had come by during my short visit to the mill, and would it have killed Brigda to tell me? Probably.
“I’m fine. The store will be fine. The police are on the case.” I managed a weak smile. “Part of owning a business, I guess.” Of all people, Darryl would understand. His own gas station had recently suffered a similar fate, courtesy of my ex. It was a wonder he still talked to me.
“We should put a spell of protection on the store,” Trish suggested.
“Oooh. Traps.” Winnie rubbed her hands a little too gleefully.
Which made me think of those metal jaws in the cartoons that clamped onto people’s legs. “I’d rather not harm potential clients.”
“You’d only have it armed at night when you close.” Trish waved a hand.
“Set a trap on a timer?” I snorted.
“Can’t hurt to try,” Winnie argued.
We spent a good portion of dinner discussing various ways to protect the shop. Some of them were absolutely crazy, although I did kind of like the bucket trap that spilled paint on whoever entered. Try and explain how you got soaked to the cops after that!
Dinner proved delicious, and not just because of the awesome food. The conversation proved lively, the laughter copious. I grinned almost constantly. And Darryl kept smiling back. During dessert, he even grabbed my hand under the table.
I blushed. It was like being a teenager with a crush all over again.
After dinner it was board game time, and given there were five of us, we couldn’t do any that required teams. We started with the game of Life, where Trish won, her car sporting two pink heads in the front and a full quad of kids in the back.
Then we played singles Euchre, where Darryl proved to be quite the card shark. Despite having switched to Coke Zero, my cheeks were hot, and I felt giddy. Drunk on happiness.
It was Tricia who pulled me aside when I went to the kitchen for a refill and hissed, “When are you going to stop making cow eyes at him and drag him into your bed?”
“Trish!” I exclaimed, my cheeks hot. I cast a glance over my shoulder across the open space, worried he might have heard. He was speaking with Winnie and didn’t look my way.
“Please. You totally have the hots for him. And he’s into you as well.”
He was interested in the Naomi he saw wearing clothes. His interest would fade fast when he confronted the reality. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Which was when she dragged it out of me. “I hate my body.”
“If it bothers you, then do something about it.”
“I did. I went on a diet and lost a bunch of weight.”
“So what’s the problem?” She sounded genuinely curious.
“My body is ugly.”
She eyed me. “Looks fine to me.”
“Because I’m camouflaging it,” I grumbled. “I’ve got a jiggly belly.”
“And?”
“Like super jiggly. As in I can grab the loose skin and play with it. And that’s not the only thing.” I gestured to myself. “Nothing is where it should be. My boobs are like deflated balloons with nipples that point south. It’s not attractive.”
“Says you.”
“Yeah says me.”
“I don’t think Darryl cares.”
“Only because he doesn’t know. I’ve seen myself in the mirror, Trish. If I can’t stand to look at myself, then how could he, or anyone for that matter?”
“Ah, sweetie.” Trish enveloped me in a hug that drew attention, because Marjorie drawled, “Should I be getting jealous?”
I pulled away from Trish and exclaimed, “I swear I am not putting the moves on her.”
At that Marjorie snorted. “Relax. I was teasing. You okay?” She neared with hands full of empty glasses. I looked over to see Darryl still talking to Winnie.
“Yeah. She’ll be fine.” Trish nudged me. “You’re not the only one who’s had to deal with body-image issues. It happens to all of us, especially as we get older and things change.”
“Sometimes I wish I could turn back time and undo the damage.”
“You still can, cherie,” Marjorie said softly. “I know a surgeon who does cosmetic surgery if you’re interested.”
This was the second time in as many days that it had been suggested. Was it really a viable alternative?
“Are you done yapping over there?” Winnie yelled. “I need to win back my stash of pennies.” Rather than use poker chips, we’d dug into the penny jar.
“Coming!” We returned to play, the spot by Darryl conveniently left open for me.
Around midnight Trish and Marjorie called it a night. Seeing Winnie yawn, I realized that it was time for me to turn in, too.
“I am really glad you stopped by tonight,” I said, walking Darryl to the door.
“Me, too.” He paused at the threshold and loomed over me. Butterflies chased themselves in my tummy.
He tilted my chin and brushed his mouth on mine. Soft. Feathery.
I blinked as he drew away. “Good night, Naomi.” He slipped out the door, but I remained standing in it, watching as the taillights of his truck disappeared down the drive. Letting the cool bite of the night bring down the temperature of my skin.
He’d kissed me. Not like Kane had that night at the bar. Darryl kissed me with the softness of possibility and respect. Was it wrong I wished he respected me a little less and kissed me a little harder?
The chill caused me to shiver. I really should get back inside. As I turned to leave, I saw him.
Jace. Standing at the edge of the trees separating our properties. Staring in my direction. Not saying anything. When he tilted his head, I would have sworn I saw a flash, as if his gaze reflected light. I blinked, and he was gone.
Had I imagined him? Why would Jace be spying on my house?
I hugged myself and moved into the cottage, shutting the door tight. Locking it.
“Meow?”
I glanced down at my cat, who weaved in and out of my legs. I scooped him into my arms. “Hey, handsome.” I rubbed my face in his fur until he squirmed. I set him down and watched as he leaped onto the entrance table, his graceful jump knocking my purse down.
It spilled onto the floor, wallet, keys, box… I scooped everything back into it but the latter. I carried the carved treasure up to my room and placed it on my nightstand. I brushed my teeth, lotioned, and put on my pajamas before snuggling under my covers.
But I couldn’t sleep.
My mind whirled. So much to think of. The vandal. My business. Darryl. I touched my lips. They tingled.
Other parts of me as well. Rather than let my fingers do the walking, I reached for the puzzle and began turning it in my hands again, the room lit in the soft glow of the paint that filled the symbols on my ceiling. I rolled the puzzle box in my hands, over and over.
Spun it. Caressed it. Saw the symbols etched into it catching the light and beginning to glow. The seams glowed brightest of all.
And still it whirled, faster and faster, until my hands no longer even touched it. The cube hung suspended in the air, tendrils of light shooting from my ceiling and holding it aloft
as it continued its dervish-like spin.
A hum filled the air, vibrating lightly at first but gaining in intensity. My hair shivered. My skin prickled. My lips parted, and I gasped as the cube opened, unfolding like the petals of a flower until I could see the treasure nestled within.
I reached for it, my fingers within grasping distance when—
“Oomph.” I grunted as a heavy weight hit my chest. My eyes opened to see my cat staring at me.
“Meowr,” he complained.
I was about to chide him when I realized the light in my room wasn’t from my glow in the dark art but daylight. It was morning, and Grisou was hungry.
But what about the box?
A glance at my nightstand showed it sitting there, intact. How disappointing.
The day didn’t get any better. My cream had somehow curdled overnight, meaning my coffee sucked. I tripped on the rug going out the door and only barely managed to not injure myself. My car started, but it was a close thing. It chugged and coughed before finally settling into a rumble.
The bad luck continued as I discovered my pottery bowls, after a night of cooling, had fallen apart. My website crashed because of a virus, and the paint on my sign, while it remained intact, had gained a new message.
Slut.
14
This time I didn’t bother contacting the police. I took some pictures with my phone and then hauled out the ladder that I’d yet to return. I scrubbed at the still damp letters. Tears pricked my eyes, and my throat felt tight.
I wanted to maintain a positive outlook, but the more the paint smeared a bloody trail that seemed to signify the mess in my life, the more I shook. Why me? Why did bad things keep happening to me?
I’d not broken any mirrors or tortured any kittens. I might not be the best person in the world, but I wasn’t awful. I was trying to be good. To make a real effort.
Yet, I kept getting knocked down. Over and over.
Why.
Me.
This time I couldn’t stop the pity party. I leaned my face on my arm and let a few tears soak my sleeve as the frustration bubbled over.
Wouldn’t you know, at my blubbering snot-nosed best was when I’d hear a drawled, “I think you need breakfast.”