One Good Wand

by Grace McGuiness

  I shook myself free of my humiliation-slash-attraction and fled to my file room. The old wooden cabinet on the north wall was cool beneath my forehead as I leaned against it, trying to slow my breathing. I hadn’t reacted to a man like that since…never. I had never reacted that strongly to seeing a man across an empty room. Or a crowded room. Or any kind of space or location wherein one might meet a man.

  When I finally had my body under control, the throbbing of my heart retreating back to where it belonged, my face once again cool, I opened my eyes to stare at my sneakers. “What the hell was that?” I asked them, “And why am I always so stupidly spastic at the worst possible moment?”

  My sneakers had no answers for me. The floor, on the other hand, glowed faintly beneath the cabinet. The yellow-green light made me think someone had rolled a glowball underneath it, but I’d never noticed it before and Maysie was the only other person with access to the file room. Well, plus security, but I didn’t think the ‘moron twins’ who were Mueller’s nemeses (them and The Ogre) had any reason to visit. Which left Maysie, the kindly old woman I had so far only met once, who didn’t strike me as the glowball type. Balls of yarn, sure. But toys that glowed in the dark?

  “Unless they make them,” I said to myself, annoyed. “Because it’s not like this is a toy factory or anything.” I hadn’t actually seen any of the toys they made, what with the machines being off all week, but odds were good they made something that glowed.

  I got down on all fours and reached under the cabinet. That light was going to bug me all day if I didn’t fish it out. As soon as I was elbow-deep and totally committed, the light vanished. I patted around under the cabinet until a giant wolf spider skittered out next to my face and climbed up the first two drawers. The yelp that came out of me might have sounded more like an undignified squeal, and I pulled my hand back as fast as it would go.

  A file spun out from under the cabinet along with a couple of dust bunnies. The dust coating its surface was thick enough I couldn’t read the name, so I snapped on my dust mask, grabbed my dust cloth from the table, and wiped the file clean with a now practiced motion that kept the dust in the air to a minimum.

  The file belonged to a young woman named Cindy Clark, born 1964. She had been hired in 1983 as a dishwasher in the bakery and within three months had been promoted to the head baker. I found job descriptions, pay raises, a couple incident reports involved burned objects, including the hand of Iris Bouvier. Due to Iris’s injury, Cindy had been placed on paid leave while quality control investigated.

  I frowned at that. “Quality control? Maybe security’s always been inept…”

  The rest of the file baffled me even more. I found duty logs, recipes, a copy of the 1984 Fairytale Endings Bakery Training Manual with a fat, red CONFIDENTIAL stamped across the front. As I flipped through it curiously, not really reading it, a small scrap of purple paper fell out and floated to the floor.

  Cindy Clark, Envigorated, 1985.

  Below that, a hastily scrawled note in fat blue marker, Disappeared, 1986. Postlethwaite?

  I had no idea what ‘envigorated’ meant, but the second word? That triggered the memory of my mom making me swear not to talk to Harry Roundtop ever again. Girls really did disappear thirty years ago, Tessa. Legends begin somewhere.

  Without really thinking about what I was doing, I shuffled through my stack of files from the ‘80s. I found Iris Bouvier somewhere around the middle. A quick perusal of her paperwork showed no hint of disappearance or any “envigorated” note. I hit the end of the file and stood staring at it with a weird feeling, like my stomach gremlin wanted to be sick. Something was off, and it should be obvious. I went through her file again. And then a third time, paying closer attention to every paper. Nothing seemed out of place.

  It wasn’t until I picked up Cindy’s file to leaf through it again that I realized what was wrong.

  Iris’s file contained no mention of any burns. No mention of any kitchen incidents at all. They both worked in the bakery at the same time, and yet Cindy appeared to be a forgetful klutz while Iris was as boring as could be. Same place, same time. And yet on August 21st, 1985, Cindy was put on leave for an accident involving Iris, while according to her file, Iris was right as rain. It could just be shoddy file-keeping. I tried to convince myself that was all it was, but my stomach gremlin kept gnawing at me.

  I should stay on task. I was hired to organize the file room, not find thirty-year-old mistakes. Instead, I dug into my ‘80s pile and pulled out every baker, washer, and taste-tester I could find. Ignoring my interest in how one became a taste-tester, I flipped through the files with a mounting rush.

  Not one of them mentioned kitchen fires, an exploding oven, or major injuries. When taken as a whole, it appeared that the bakery was a happy, harmonious, completely safe work environment. At least it did without Cindy’s file. With Cindy’s file, there was clearly something shady going on. Had someone weeded out mentions of the girl who disappeared? Had they not been filed in the first place? At the very least, I figured Iris’s file should contain an incident report of the burned hand for insurance or worker’s compensation claims. Things might have worked different in the ‘80s, but that seemed like a no-brainer.

  Then again, maybe the company had a separate file for claims or OSHA or whatever.

  As I opened the first cabinet drawer on the north wall in search of more files from the ‘80s, it occurred to me that I might be going a little overboard. But there was something about Cindy Clark I couldn’t let go of. I had this feeling in my gut, this warm chill like a cool breeze on a humid night in Florida, or like maybe my stomach gremlin had redecorated. Whatever it was, I needed to find out why Cindy Clark had been written out of every other record. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I wanted to, and that should have worried me. Instead, I let the puzzle consume me and wash out all those negative self feelings. Because what were all my issues compared to a woman who disappeared, and a mystery almost as old as I was?

  Chapter 10

  The rumbling of my stomach finally broke me from my obsession with the puzzle that was Cindy Clark. Instead of heading to lunch like a normal, sane person, I rearranged the files, gathered up the two I needed, and slipped out of the file room to find answers. With the file room as big a mess as it was, I doubted there would be any record elsewhere of what had happened to the baker. Which left asking the only person who might know—my new boss. Nervousness crowded out my stomach gremlin, but I managed to talk myself out of being too worried to try. After all, how likely was it, really, that Maysie would fire me for asking a question? At worst, I figured she would tell me it wasn’t my job, and then dismiss my curiosity back to my room. That wouldn’t be so bad, right?

  Robin’s young voice rang shrilly down the hall as I neared reception. “And you’re a little blue for the Family!” Which made absolutely no sense at all, and brought me up short as I took a second to judge my mental state. I felt a little dazed, but otherwise in possession of my faculties.

  The rep who was the object of her anger was young, clean-shaven, and clearly thought he had more skill with women than he really did. Or so said the haughty cant of his desk-lean as I peered around the corner. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Shall I get out my mirror?” The aqua streaks in Robin’s red hair seemed to flash as she held her ground at her desk, her fingertips white where they pressed. “Looks aren’t everything. I would expect someone like you to know that better than most.” She popped a big gum bubble in his face.

  Everyone else was focused on the two of them. I pressed myself behind the potted plant at the end of the hall, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. I should have just turned around and gone to find lunch. Between my display with Mueller in the loading bay and their response, I was pretty sure I wanted nothing to do with these professionals who needed a stick extraction, stat. But there was that head fog I couldn’t shake, so it took me a smidgen too long to do the smart thing.


  Just as I was about to turn tail and amble away from the charged scene, he stepped out of Maysie’s office. The door was recessed, shielding it from the rest of reception, so I was the only one who noticed. And boy, did I notice. All six-foot-two, tailored grey suit of him. Hat in one hand, briefcase in the other. He transferred his hat to the other hand and reached up to straighten his tie. Something about that gesture, or the way he shifted his jaw, or, hell, maybe it was just him. Something about that movement made my heart stumble. Of course, I had thought Kyle made my heart skip, so maybe I wasn’t the best judge of what was good for me. In fact, this was probably just the hardcore attraction of a woman who hadn’t known a man’s touch beyond life-saving maneuvers in too many years.

  Armed with that logic, I pressed myself against the wall as he looked my way, hoping he didn’t see me. Go now, Tessa. Turn around and head back to the files. Now, before…

  The man snapped his fingers, bid a good day to Robin, and didn’t wait for his cadre of professionals before he made for the hallway. My hallway.

  I raced through possible options, but my hands responded to the situation for me. I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and leaned casually against the wall as I pretended to talk to Nicky. “Oh, sure,” I said to my silent phone, “I’m absolutely excited about it. Can’t wait. It’ll be so good to—”

  The potted plant blazed with green light and then withered into little more than a stem right before my eyes. I caught my breath and stared. Those deep blues I had only seconds before been admiring stared at me, cold as ice and scalpel-sharp, and only two feet away.

  “The Family doesn’t appreciate eavesdropping,” he said, his tone slicing all the way down to my stomach gremlin.

  And then he and his cronies were gone, leaving a strange shimmer in the air like steam on a winter’s day.

  “The nerve of some people,” Robin sniped as she rearranged her desk. She flipped the bird at the hallway…inadvertently at me. “Sorry, Tessa. Didn’t see you there. You know, I’d heard the Chisel was bad, but his flunkies are so…” She flicked a glance at the withered plant. I waited for her to say something, but we both seemed frozen in place, unable to figure out what to do next. Me, in shock. Her, not so much. I could see her mind buzzing from across the room.

  Maysie stepped out of her office into the tight atmosphere. She took one look between us and sighed, clasping her hands in front of her pinafore. “How many times do I have to remind you to water the plants, Robin? Please see to the others now, before they end up the same way.” Then, to me, “Did you want to see me about something, Tessa?”

  Really? She expected me to believe that the five-foot plant had gone from succulent and alive to shriveled and dead in an instant because it hadn’t been watered? I had no idea what other explanation there might be, but that seemed more than a little simplistic, even to super-dazed me.

  “Uh…” I said, like a champ.

  Maysie waved off my concern. “It happens all the time. Something to do with the ingredi--er, the chemicals in the factory. Completely harmless to people, of course. The cell walls of plants are different, and the chemical reaction takes place in the pith…” She gave me a kindly, old-woman smile. “I don’t want to bore you. What was it you wanted to see me about?”

  I stepped out from behind the blackened stem, giving it a wide berth just in case. My shock had yet to fade, but Maysie’s question gave me something concrete to focus on. “Um, I found this file…” I said, holding it out to her. “I can’t seem to find any of the coordinating documentation. Incident reports, mentions of this woman anywhere else…”

  She picked up her cat eye spectacles from the pearl chain around her neck and perched them on her nose to read the file. One glimpse of the name on it, and her whole body froze just like Robin’s had done moments before. Not just her body, her whole aura. Like that moment when a kid realizes they’ve been caught doing something really bad, and for a split second they consider bolting, running away with the circus as a lion tamer because it would be less dangerous, and never looking back. Even the sphere of air around Maysie seemed to hold its breath. When she spoke, her voice sounded strangely fuzzy, as if we were talking across a string with a pair of cans at either end. “Where did you find this?”

  Alarm bells went off in my head. Lie. Lie your pants off and forget you ever saw it, my intuition screamed at me. As usual, I ignored it. “Under one of the cabinets.” And then I jumped into the deep end, unable to stop the words tumbling out of my mouth. “It was really weird, too, because I thought I saw this light, like one of those glow-in-the-dark bouncy balls. By the way, do you make those? I have a lot of kids who’d love them. I mean, not my kids. I don’t have any kids. But pretty much all my friends do. Oh, but maybe bouncy balls are bad for little kids? Probably choking hazards, right? So, I guess never mind that. Um…” I took what felt like my first breath since starting that whole bumbling mess of word vomit and glanced at Robin. Teenagers could generally be trusted to tell you if you were being a total moron.

  Robin had paused with a gum bubble half-blown, her vivid eyes wide and surprised. When she realized I was looking at her, her red brows moved upwards as she popped her bubble. Then she pulled a nail file from her desk and pretended not to see me. She couldn’t have given me a better answer if she’d said, “Wow, Tessa. What are you, like, crazy or something?”

  “Why don’t we discuss this in my office?” Maysie gestured for me to go first. I gulped, but did as she indicated. She closed the door behind us, blocking my only easy exit. “Tell me, have you found others like this?” She waited until she stood behind her desk to open the file. I thought I saw tears gleam behind her glasses, but I did the polite thing and pretended otherwise.

  “Just that one. But there are tons of files I haven’t gone through yet.” She nodded absently, reading. I tapped my fingers on my jeans, working up my courage. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from the amazing shriveling plant, but I actually managed it kinda quickly. “What happened to her?”

  That stillness came over the old woman again, just for a second, before she lowered herself into her chair with a sigh. “No one knows. One day she was here, bright, bubbly, full of promise. The next day, she wasn’t.”

  I bit my tongue, but asked the question causing my stomach gremlin to gnaw at my insides, anyway. “Was she one of those kidnapped girls thirty years ago? I mean, the timing fits.”

  “Very possibly. We never found out. Officially, she ran away.”

  “Unofficially?”

  She sighed. “Cindy was happy, building a future here with…friends. Grown women don’t typically run away without something to run from, or to.” She closed the file and leaned back, resting her hands in her lap with her head bowed. “To answer your other question, we do produce glow balls. They’re large enough not to be choking hazards. If you’d like, you can stop by the storage room to take some home with you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say. Her sudden shift in topic made me suspicious. She was hiding something, and it wasn’t a sudden case of the feels. Besides, there was something else niggling at me. Maybe it was that fuzziness around the edges of my brain, or maybe it was the weirdness with the plant. Either way, I found myself suggesting, “I’m not sure it was a glow ball, though. It went out when I reached for it. Glow balls don’t do that, do they?”

  Maysie looked at me over the top of her glasses. “What else could it have been?”

  Magic. Fairies. Tinkerbell come to whisk me away to Neverland. But I couldn’t exactly say any of that, not if I wanted to maintain my appearance of sanity and my employment status. “Well, I thought—”

  As if my thoughts had manifested, a light chime rang through the air. It was muffled, as if buried beneath a heavy pillow, but clear and pronounced in the otherwise quiet office. I felt the thrum of the soda pop machines in the floor, but I couldn’t hear them. I shook my head, trying to clear the haze from my thinking. “I’m sorry. If you need to get that, I ca
n go.”

  A sharpness focused her features, returning the shrewd businesswoman quality to her grandmotherly appearance. “Get what, exactly?”

  I waved my hand in the direction of the sound, only then realizing I was waving at a wall full of old lady clutter. “I thought I heard a phone ringing. Must be hearing things…” I forced out a laugh to soften my embarrassment. Didn’t work.

  The question she asked wasn’t what I expected. Again. “You can hear that?”

  “I mean, it’s faint. But…yeah. Am I not supposed to?” It occurred to me that perhaps it was a secret, private phone. Or maybe she had a secret room back there, one no one was supposed to know about. If that were true and I had just outed her secret… I rushed to add, “Or maybe I don’t. I really don’t want to have to look for another job. Finding this one was next to impossible.”

  Maysie steepled her fingers, dispensing with all of that soft grandmother stuff. “How long?”

  “What?” My brain was working in reverse, trying to figure out how to backpedal without losing my job, and shifting gears was so hard it hurt my brain.

  “How long did you search for a job before you found the hiring advertisement?”

  I shrugged, trying to dislodge the discomfort this line of questioning always brought up. “I dunno. Years.”

  “How many?”

  I stared at my sneakers and muttered my answer. “Seven.”

  “Seven years without a job?” Her tone didn’t change, but I imagined all kinds of terrible thoughts playing through her head. Who is this pathetic child I hired? What is so wrong with her that she couldn’t get a job, any job, for that long?

  I sighed. Might as well get to the truth. “I had my photography business, but it never really went anywhere. Didn’t really pay the bills. I think I mentioned that before. So I tried to find something else, to take the financial stress off my husband’s shoulders. Ex-husband’s. Except, thanks to the economy and the mistake I made in choosing college degrees, I never found anything. I’m sorry if my resume didn’t reflect that.”