Hazel tipped her head to the side and lifted her shoulders. “Eh. Easy come, easy go.”
Gwyn frowned. “I still can’t believe Char and Phyllis would turn on us like that.”
“Believe it!” croaked Loni. “Once those girls turned on us, I stopped trusting people. I mean, if you can’t trust your friends, who can you trust?”
“Oh, Loni,” breathed Gwyn. “Is that why you’ve holed yourself up in this house for all these years?”
Loni’s eyes shifted away from Gwyn’s. “Part of the reason. But there are others,” she said mysteriously.
“I’m so sorry if that’s even part of the reason. You can trust me,” Gwyn promised.
Loni eyed Gwyn carefully. “You know, Gwynnie, I think I can. You and Kat were the only two friends that kept in touch with me over the years. And I thank you for that. Because I never left the house, I had to rely on Kat to push Char to return the book, but Kat continued to tell me she refused her, time after time.”
Gwyn shook her head. “It just isn’t right! Sorceress Halliwell gave that book to all of us.”
Loni’s nostrils flared. She slammed a hand on the table and stood up defiantly. “We should get it back!”
An idea began to form in Gwyn’s head. “I know a way, Loni. If you’re serious about getting it back…” Gwyn’s head tipped towards Loni.
Loni slapped her hand on the table again. “Of course I’m serious. That book is rightfully ours just as much as it is theirs!”
“They’re both going to be at Kat’s will reading tomorrow. We’ll confront them about it there. There will be a lawyer there. Maybe he can help us get it back!”
Loni’s smile disappeared almost instantaneously. Her head trembled as she slowly sat back down on her chair. “N-no, I can’t do that.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
Loni pushed her glasses back further up her nose. “I don’t leave the house.”
“Well, why not?”
Loni shifted about uncomfortably. “Well, for starters, I don’t have a driver’s license.”
Gwyn smiled. “Neither does Mom. It’s okay. I’ll pick you up.”
Loni reached across the table and patted Gwyn’s hand. “Thank you. It’s a sweet offer, Gwynnie, but I can’t.”
“But, Loni, Kat left us all something in her will. Aren’t you curious what it is?”
Loni sighed and slumped back in her chair. “I’d rather have my friend back.”
“I would too,” whispered Gwyn. “But we can’t get her back. But maybe you could have a memento that would remind you of Kat. Wouldn’t you like something of hers so that you could remember her always?”
Loni looked up sharply. Gwyn could tell that interested her. By the looks of her house, Loni was a hoarder. She liked stuff—nothing in particular, just stuff.
“Couldn’t the lawyer just mail me whatever it is that Kat left me?” asked Loni.
Gwyn shook her head. “No. Kat specifically put in her will that the four of us—you, me, Char, and Phyllis—must be present, and we must go to his office.”
Loni sighed. “Just like Kat to try and get me to leave the house. She tried for years, you know.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eleven forty-five sharp.”
“I can’t, Gwynnie. I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of?” asked Hazel.
Loni waved a hand. “That’s neither here nor there.”
“It is here or there,” scoffed Hazel. “You won’t leave the house because you’re scared. The only way I can get out of that funeral home they call a retirement village is to get a windfall from this Kat woman. So come hell or high water, you’re going to that will reading! Even if my Gwynnie has to throw you over her shoulder and drag you there kicking and screaming!” Hazel pointed a crooked finger at Loni. “And she’ll do it, you know. It’s not just a scare tactic.”
“You think Kat left us a windfall?” asked Loni.
Hazel shrugged. “Something’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”
Loni glanced up at Gwyn. “You’ll pick me up?”
Gwyn nodded. “A quarter to twelve.”
Loni’s hands trembled as she leaned back in her seat. “Alright. We’ll give it a go.”
It was exactly eleven forty-four when Gwyn Prescott turned her car onto Hemlock Road the next day. This time, the sun was shining brightly, and it was a perfect seventy-five degrees.
“Loni’s house looks so much better during the daytime,” Gwyn said to her mother as they pulled up to the curb of Yolanda Hodges’s house.
“I’d sure hope so. I’m not sure it could look any worse,” grumped Hazel from the passenger seat.
Gwyn honked the horn to alert Loni that they were waiting. “I think the darkness just gave it a sinister appearance. It still looks unkempt, but at least it doesn’t look sinister.”
“Puh,” puffed Hazel. “Still looks sinister to me.”
Gwyn looked down at her watch and then at the house. “I wonder what’s keeping Loni.”
“The whack job probably changed her mind.”
Gwyn shot her mother a look of frustration. “You’re not allowed to speak when she gets in the car. You’re rude to her.”
“She makes it easy,” said Hazel with a snort. “She’s a slow-moving target.”
“I mean it, Mother. If you say one single cross thing, no French fries for a week.”
Hazel reared her head back and cast a horrified glance at her daughter. “You can’t do that! That’s elder abuse!”
“No, it’s not. And I have power of attorney over you. That means I also have power of French fries over you. Read it. It’s in the fine print,” quipped Gwyn.
Hazel sulked and looked out the window.
Gwyn honked again. “Hurry up, Yolanda, we’re going to be late for the meeting with the lawyer.”
“Well, maybe you should just go in there and get her,” suggested Hazel in a mocking voice.
Gwyn sighed. She really hated to leave her mother alone in the car, but it would take her twice as long to unpack her mother from the car, walk up to the house to get Loni, and then pack everyone back up again. It was like trying to leave the house as a new mother with the diaper bags and the strollers and the babies. It just about wasn’t worth the effort. She pointed her finger at her mother. “No leaving this car. Got it?”
Hazel shot her tongue out at her daughter and widened her eyes.
“I hate having to be the mother, too,” said Gwyn quietly. She got out of the car and rushed up the cracked and weedy sidewalk and onto the ramshackle porch, glancing back at her mother the whole while.
Hazel waggled her fingers under her chin at her daughter tauntingly.
Gwyn sighed and faced the house, knocking on the door. “Loni, it’s Gwyn. We have to go!” she hollered. “We’re going to be late.”
Gwyn heard a noise at the picture window and saw the curtain rustle. She stepped over the mess on the porch and peered in the window. Loni’s over-made-up face appeared, startling Gwyn.
“Go to the back,” Loni hissed through the glass.
“What?” asked Gwyn, cupping her hands to the window and squinting inside. “We have to go, Loni.”
“I need to talk to you. Go around to the back,” she hissed. “Through the gate on the side. I unlocked it.”
Gwyn sighed. She didn’t have time for this nonsense. She only had an hour lunch break, and she didn’t want to be late getting back to work. But she felt like she didn’t have a choice but to follow Loni’s directions, crazy as they were.
She stepped back over the cat food and the wet newspapers, down the steps, and around the porch to the side of the house, where a wooden fence ran around the backyard. Gwyn looked back at the car. Her mother was still sitting quietly in her seat. Gwyn opened the gate and rushed into the backyard. In the backyard, broken-down lawn mowers, old appliances, and washbasins covered the weedy yard. In one corner sat a teal-colored golf cart with a plastic roof, partiall
y covered by an old tarp. Gwyn went to the back door and knocked. “Loni, let’s go!” she hollered.
The door opened, and a weathered hand reached out and pulled Gwyn inside.
“Loni, it’s time to…” Gwyn sucked in her breath when she caught sight of Loni. “What in the world are you wearing?”
Loni wore the bottom half of a bird costume. Like Big Bird on Sesame Street, but in place of the bird’s head, she wore a Charlie Chaplin mask.
“Shh,” she hissed through the mask. “We don’t have much time.”
“Loni, this is highly unprofessional. You can’t go into a lawyer’s office looking like—like—this!”
“You want me to go, or not?” demanded Loni impatiently.
“Well, yes, b-but don’t you own any normal clothes?”
“Of course I do. I’m in disguise.”
“Where in the world did you get a bird costume?” asked Gwyn. She didn’t know what to say. The woman looked like a lunatic.
“Kat gave it to me years ago. She found it at a rummage sale, but it didn’t have the head. Now enough about that—listen. Here’s the plan. My property is surrounded by a privacy fence. I’m going to go out this door. You drive around the alley. There’s a gate back there. Park by the gate and wait for me. Make sure you aren’t followed. You weren’t followed here, were you?”
Gwyn cast a wary glance over her shoulder. “I—I didn’t see anyone.”
“Good. Go around to the alley. Don’t honk or anything. Don’t make any noise. Just pull up to the gate in back and park. I’ll come out through there.”
“No one’s out front, Lon. I swear.”
“Just do it. Now go,” she said before shoving Gwyn out the back door of her house.
Gwyn sighed. She was starting to think Loni Hodges had become a total nutjob since the last time she’d seen her. She walked back around to the gate, pulling it shut behind her before walking towards the car. She’d gone no further than five paces when she realized the front passenger seat was empty!
“Mom!” she breathed. Immediately her eyes began scanning the sidewalks looking for a little old lady with a cane. “Mom!” Gwyn hollered.
All the sidewalks were empty. Dammit, how could she get so far so fast? Gwyn’s mouth went dry. Her heart plunged into her stomach, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
Unsure of what to do next, she rushed to her car and started the engine. She pulled the car ahead and peered down the alley, hoping to see her mother walking along the dusty alley, but saw nothing. With no other options, she followed Loni’s directions. “Four eyes are better than two,” she whispered to herself and drove around the corner to the gate. She only had to sit for a second before the gate popped open and Loni literally flew out, wearing her ridiculous bird getup. She launched herself into the backseat.
“Go, go, go!” she hollered, ducking low below the windows.
Gwyn frowned. “I can’t go. My mother took off,” she said.
“What do you mean, took off?”
“On foot. She got out of the car while I was in the back of your house, and she disappeared.”
Loni poked her head up an inch past the bottom of the back window. “She’s a feeble old woman with a cane. How far could she have gotten?”
Gwyn pulled the car through the alley. “She’s sneaky. She probably hid somewhere. I’ll circle back around the block.”
“No! You can’t go around the block. They might be waiting for me there. They’ll see us!”
“Who?”
“The FBI!”
“The FBI was not out in front of your house. I was just there.”
“Yes, they are. They hide. They’re sneaky little bastards. You have to go straight to the lawyer’s office and then bring me straight back.”
“Loni! I can’t leave my mother!”
“She got out of the car. It’s her own fault.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Do you want to go to that will reading or not?” demanded Loni.
The back of Gwyn’s throat tightened. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. It could take her hours to find her mother if she’d found a good hiding spot. Gwyn rubbed her face with the palms of her hands. “Ugh,” she groaned. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Go to the lawyer’s office! You can find your mother later.”
Gwyn sighed. “What if something happens to her?”
“In Aspen Falls? What’s going to happen to her in Aspen Falls? How long can it take to read a will? Five minutes? You’ll be back in a jiffy. And she’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself for five minutes.”
Gwyn peered in her rearview mirror and scanned the alleyway. “Oh, fine,” she said. She drove slowly, eyeing the backyards of every house she passed as she drove to the other side of the alley. I hope you’ll be okay, Mom. I’ll be right back for you, I promise!
9
Char and Phyllis waited quietly inside the offices of Jerry T. Marlow. Char drummed her fingers on her arm, wondering what was taking Gwyn and Loni so darn long. She’d promised Vic they’d go to the park later and have a little fun.
Mr. Marlow looked at his watch. “Maybe Ms. Prescott was unable to convince Ms. Hodges to make an appearance today.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” said Char.
Phyllis leaned her head back. “This is getting ridiculous. Can’t we just do this without Loni?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I—”
He was cut off by his office door being flung open by a giant yellow bird wearing a Charlie Chaplin mask. “Let’s get this show on the road,” said a croaky, hollow voice from inside the mask.
Mr. Marlow stood up. “Excuse me, what’s going on?! We’re in the middle of a meeting.”
Gwyn Prescott followed the odd-looking bird inside the room and shut the door behind them. “Mr. Marlow, this is Loni Hodges,” she said. Her face was visibly heated as she grinned uncomfortably.
“Why are you wearing that costume, Ms. Hodges?” he asked with a horror-stricken voice.
Char and Phyllis stared at their old friend with shock as well.
“Take that ridiculous outfit off, Loni!” cried Char. “You’re making a mockery of the memory of my friend!”
Gwyn wrung her hands nervously. “She was uncomfortable leaving the house and felt she needed a disguise,” she said.
“A mockery of your friend? Kat was our friend, you backstabber!” hollered Loni in a muffled voice from behind the mask.
Phyllis stood up. “You’re the backstabbers. We didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Ha!” hollered Loni, pulling her mask off. “Say that to my face, witch!”
Phyllis got closer to Loni and looked down at her. She poked a finger into her feathery chest. “You’re. The. Backstabber!”
“You wanna piece of me?” asked Loni, digging her hands into Phyllis’s chest and shoving.
Phyllis sucked in her breath. “How dare you!” she spat, shoving Loni back.
“Ladies, I’m really going to have to ask you to sit down,” said Mr. Marlow uncomfortably.
“How dare I? How dare I?” screamed Loni over him. “This whole thing is your fault.”
Wringing her hands nervously, Gwyn touched Loni’s wing. “Loni, we don’t have time for this,” whispered Gwyn. “I need to go find Mother.”
“I’d really like to know how this is our fault!” said Char, backing up Phyllis.
“Ladies!” Mr. Marlow finally boomed over the shouting women. “I can’t have this shouting in my office! I have another appointment in fifteen minutes. We need to get on with the will reading.”
Loni and Phyllis stared each other down.
Gwyn tugged on Loni’s wing. “Loni, please,” she begged. “I need to get back to find Mother.”
Loni looked at Gwyn and then took a step back behind the chair. “Fine,” she grumped, crossing her wings across her chest. “Get on with it.”
“Thank you, Loni,” said Gwyn, taking her seat on one
of the four chairs.
“Oh, yes, yes…” said Marlow as he took a seat behind his desk. Flustered, he seemed more than a little surprised that both women had given up quite so easily. He flipped through some papers while Phyllis and Char took their seats as well.
He cleared his throat and adjusted the reading glasses atop his nose. “This is the last will and testament of Katherine Anne Lynde,” he began formally. “Being of sound mind and body and in the presence of witnesses, I hereby bequeath my estate as follows: to my oldest and dearest friends and my only living family, my very own witch’s coven, Gwyndolin Prescott, Yolanda Hodges, Charlotte Adams-Bailey, and Phyllis Habernackle, I bequeath my entire estate, including my home located at 1715 Blue Spruce Lane, my 1949 Ford F1 truck, and all of the contents of my home with the stipulation that you must not sell the home, but instead use the house as a way to reconnect lost friendships and mend broken fences. Please know that despite everything, I loved you all.” Mr. Marlow removed his glasses and looked at the women. “Janice at the front desk has the keys to the property and copies of the will for each of you. Do you have any questions?”
The four women sat stunned and speechless. Kat had left them everything. Char’s mind raced. She already owned a home. Loni owned a home. Phyllis had just rented an apartment over a building downtown, and Gwyn had just moved to town as well—surely she had a place to live. What were they supposed to do with a house if they weren’t allowed to sell it? What in the world had Kat been thinking?
“What are we supposed to do with her house if we aren’t allowed to sell it?” asked Loni. “I already have a house, and I’m certainly not moving in with them!” she spat.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Loni. We wouldn’t move in with you if George Clooney were asking and offered to share his bed!” Phyllis shot back.
Gwyn shook her head at the lawyer. “No, you don’t understand. My mother lives with me. I can’t leave the retirement home,” she whispered to Mr. Marlow. “She needs round-the-clock care.”
Char nodded and added her two cents. “I’m a newlywed. My husband and I aren’t about to go living with a bunch of old witches during our first year of marriage!”
That Old Witch!: The Coffee Coven's Cozy Capers: Book 1 Page 7