Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3

by Shawn McGuire

  “And Reeva wouldn’t take the bait?” Briar guessed. “Reeva has always had the ability to stay calm and collected during the worst storms. Figuratively. I have no idea how she stands up to an actual storm.”

  I chuckled at the feisty lady as Morgan asked, “Did you handcuff her?” An evil little grin played across her mouth.

  “I warned her that I would, but I didn’t have any cuffs with me. I did give her a timeout in a jail cell for about an hour.” I followed the pair out to the main room. “The topic of Flavia and Reeva is wearing me out. Can we talk about something else, please?”

  “Sure we can. I’m glad to see you out and about,” Briar said in that mom way that made me feel simultaneously proud of myself and ashamed. “The Lupe incident hit you hard, didn’t it?”

  “I guess.” This topic wore me out even more, so I shifted to yet another one. “I almost went out to your cottage. Good thing Morgan was out on the porch earlier. I thought the shop was only open on weekends now.”

  “We’re not open for business today,” Morgan confirmed. “We’re making sure everything is stocked and ready for our after-Thanksgiving customers.” She took hold of the three-foot-tall and six-foot-long cornucopia sitting across from the door and dragged it out onto the front porch. It had been on display in that spot since Mabon Fest in late September. “We’ll repurpose that as kindling for our fire pit. Now it’s time for a Yule display.”

  “I can hardly wait.” It was worth stopping into Shoppe Mystique just to see Morgan’s decorations. “Can I help with something?”

  “Are you bored, Jayne?” Briar asked.

  “I’m trying not to be. There was a little excitement with the sisters this morning, but I haven’t had anything real to do for the last three weeks.”

  “Is that why you’re out of sorts?” Morgan drank from the huge mug of water that was always at her side, staying hydrated for her growing baby.

  I hesitated before telling them about the nightmare I’d been having. “What do you suppose that’s all about? Other than that this week is the one-year anniversary of Frisky’s death.”

  “Your subconscious is preparing you for something,” Briar said with certainty.

  When I arched a skeptical eyebrow, Morgan added, “The Universe provides in unexpected ways. You simply need to listen and watch for the messages. The list of unresolved issues you made during Samhain, was the incident with Frisky on it?”

  “Of course. It’s the event that led to everything else in my life changing. But how do I resolve it? It’s not like I can talk to her.”

  Briar made a phftt sound. “I know some pretty talented fortune tellers who would disagree with that.”

  “What does Tripp think about this dream?” Morgan asked.

  “That my present Lupe issues are melding with my past Frisky issues. I don’t really get it.”

  “It’s possible,” Morgan suggested, “that the dream is more symbolic than an attempt to merge the two. There’s nothing more you can do regarding Lupe. Perhaps her becoming Frisky means it’s time to let that incident dissolve and finally deal with the Frisky event.”

  Anything was possible. If I could figure out why my brain thought the things it did, life would be a lot easier.

  Morgan placed her hands to her lower back, winced, and stretched. “I’m already aching. I can only imagine how I’ll feel toward the end of this pregnancy.”

  I studied her belly. “Has the baby grown since the last time I saw you . . . ten days ago? Significantly, I mean.”

  Morgan moved her hands to cover her visibly larger baby belly. “She has grown. We’ve officially entered the second trimester, and she’s starting to make her presence known.”

  I tried to envision the small human tucked beneath the surface. “Is she kicking?”

  “It’s less of a kick and more of a flutter right now.” Morgan smiled, looking peaceful and maternal. “Almost like a tiny butterfly flapping its wings in my womb.”

  We got back to work then. The Barlow women gave me the task of dusting shelves and sweeping out corners. Not very exciting, but it kept me busy and was far better than sitting at home alone. They also let me restock the “Amulets, Charms, and Talismans” table as long as I did it mindfully, which meant holding each piece in my hands and infusing it with a positive thought before putting it in its place on the table.

  While I worked on my tasks, Briar strung pine and berry garlands around all the display cabinets, and Morgan set to work replacing the cornucopia with a five-foot Yule tree. Rather than strings of traditional Christmas lights, she used lights shaped like tiny candles and decorated it with pine cones and clove-studded oranges. There were also small pentacles made of twigs and secured with strips of raffia to little grapevine wreaths. My favorite ornaments were adorable six-inch tall Yule goddesses. Their arms, faces, and hair were made from corn husks; their skirts from pine needles, holly leaves and berries.

  After a couple of hours adding touches to every area of the shop, they declared it ready for holiday business, both looking pleased with the festive appearance. Or rather, the new festive appearance. Shoppe Mystique was always festive.

  “Are you going home?” I felt like a little kid who still wanted to play but all her friends got called in for the night.

  “We are. It’s been a long day.” Morgan yawned as though offering proof. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Does that mean you’re coming to Triple G for the buffet?”

  “River asked to spend time with us tomorrow, so Mama and I are planning an intimate dinner for three.” She sighed but with less irritation regarding River than usual. He was clearly wearing her down with his suave charm and smoldering good looks. “We’ll try to come to the pub afterward.”

  I roused Meeka from her nap, and we were all about to leave when I remembered the card I’d received.

  Morgan frowned as I described it. “What are your instincts telling you about that?”

  “That either someone is not happy about the way I dealt with the Jacob and Lupe thing or someone in the village is playing with me.”

  “Both situations are possible.” Morgan closed her eyes and touched her thumbs and forefingers together like she did when she meditated. From the slight tilt of her head, she appeared to be tuning in to a frequency only she could hear. After a couple deep breaths, she opened them again. “It could also be related to something entirely different. Proceed with caution.”

  “The baby is enhancing her intuition.” Briar patted Morgan’s belly. “You’d be wise to listen.”

  I shivered. “I guess it could be someone I busted for something in Madison. Rosalyn has been talking up the B&B like crazy around town, which is great but not if the wrong person hears about it.”

  “Funny, isn’t it?” Briar asked as she pulled on a deep-purple stocking cap with a matching pompom so big it spanned the width of her head. I had to smile. “Just when we think the road is clear, the Universe tosses in a speedbump. You’re being tested, Jayne. Get through all of these little hiccups, and you’ll be rewarded with a good life in the end.”

  “Keep in mind, though,” Morgan added, “the life you think you want is not always the life you need. All will turn out as it is meant to, but it may not be anything like the one you’ve been planning for.”

  I had no life plan, so my world couldn’t get too upset.

  I zipped my fleece and headed for the door. “Is that what River is for you? A speedbump?”

  The Barlow women had a tradition of raising their daughters—and they only had daughters—on their own. River, however, had decided he wanted to be involved with his baby’s life and was refusing to leave.

  “What if you get to the other side of this test,” I continued, “and find out that life with River is what the Universe had in store for you?”

  Morgan pointed a dagger-like black fingernail at me. “Don’t make me put a pox on you.”

  “That baby is making you wicked.” I giggled. “Ha! You
’re the wicked witch.”

  “Darling,” Morgan purred, “that broom jockey has nothing on me.”

  “If anything,” Briar stated, “baby girl is making her sassy. Thank you for the help, Jayne. If I have the energy, I’ll wander down and watch a football game with you tomorrow too. That might be fun.”

  I hoped all three of them made it. Tripp was right. I was used to being around people. It would be different if my sheriff-ing responsibilities were quiet but I still had plenty to do at the B&B or vice versa. Having nothing on either side wasn’t working so well. I needed to ease into this quiet Whispering Pines winter lifestyle.

  Meeka and I said goodbye to the witches and turned east toward the station. We’d gone a few feet when I noticed a group of four women sitting in a circle on a blanket near the negativity well at the center of the pentacle garden. Probably villagers I’d never met yet. Many of them stuck close to their cottages during the tourist season, only venturing out to go to Sundry, the general store, in the early morning hours. More curious than concerned, I figured I’d wander over and say hi.

  We made our way toward them, crunching along one of the gravel pathways, when the oldest of the four, an older woman with distinctive rectangular red glasses, looked up at us with a smile. She appeared to be their leader.

  Late fifties or early sixties, twenty-five pounds overweight, short Afro haircut, light-brown complexion.

  “Good afternoon,” I called out as Meeka trotted over to the group. “I’m Jayne O’Shea, sheriff of Whispering Pines.”

  The woman got to her feet, groaning as she did, and topped out at five feet. “You’re probably wondering what we’re doing in the middle of your beautiful garden.”

  We glanced around the mostly barren plot. There were still a few patches of plants hanging on. Morgan called them “cold lovers”—pansies, kale, something called sedge, and witch hazel. Since the plants weren’t ready to cash it in, the village green witches left them where they grew.

  “Well,” the woman reconsidered, “maybe it’s not so beautiful right now, but I’m sure it’s eye-popping in the warmer months.” She held her hand out to me as she stepped forward. “I’m Octavia Smith, but everyone calls me Tavie. Pleased to meet you, Jayne. Or should I call you Sheriff?”

  I glanced down at my jeans and lake-blue fleece jacket and realized I didn’t look much like a sheriff. “I’ll answer to either. What are you ladies doing out here on such a chilly day?”

  “Let me introduce my girls first,” Tavie said and pointed at one. “This is Gloria.”

  Early twenties, large round dark-brown eyes, olive complexion, apple cheeks, pointed chin, long messy black-brown hair.

  Gloria raised a hand, fingers splayed wide in a wave. In a tiny but confident voice, she greeted, “Nice to meet you, Sheriff.”

  I had an overwhelming desire to pinch those cheeks. Fortunately, I controlled myself.

  Tavie pointed to the next girl, who dutifully stood. “This is Melinda.”

  Five foot four, deep-auburn pixie-cut hair, twenty pounds underweight, chestnut-brown eyes, reddish freckles beneath both eyes and across her nose.

  Her age was hard to determine because she was so little, but eighteen or nineteen seemed about right. She stepped forward and held a hand out to me as though closing a deal and, with a slight southern accent, said, “Good to meet you, ma’am. Hope we’re not disturbing anything here.”

  “Not at all,” I assured. “Just seems a little cold for you all to be sitting out here like this.”

  Melinda hugged a two-sizes-too-big quilted flannel shirt closer around her. “It is a bit chilly, but we’re just about done.”

  Done with what? What had I interrupted?

  Melinda took her seat between Gloria and the other girl.

  “This is Silence,” Tavie said of the third girl in jeans and a heavy beige sweater.

  Nineteen or twenty, five foot seven, honey-blonde wavy hair halfway down her back, crystal-blue eyes, blindingly white teeth, scrubbed-clean ivory skin.

  She immediately reminded me of a girl in the high school class above mine who would walk into the lunchroom, “accidentally” drop something, and three guys would swarm around her to pick the thing up. Inevitably, one would ask if she had plans for Friday night.

  “Her name is Silence? That’s unusual.” Then I thought of where we were. Not much was considered unusual in Whispering Pines.

  “Silence doesn’t speak,” Tavie explained as the girl gave a little curtsy and grinned at me, deep dimples piercing both cheeks. “She communicates with us through writing.”

  Tavie pushed the girl’s hair over her shoulder as Silence held up a small whiteboard with Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff written on it.

  I nodded, smiled at her, and to the group in general, stated, “Melinda said you’re just about done. Done with what?”

  Tavie gave Silence a fond smile, and the girl obediently took her seat again. Meeka padded over and sat at Silence’s side, but not in an I like her way. Her attitude was more She needs someone. Weird, Meeka wasn’t a trained therapy dog.

  “We live in the Milwaukee area, just north of downtown,” Tavie explained. “I run a boarding house for these girls. We heard about the troubles you all were having up here with the deaths and the kidnapping last month. We were just sick about it and have been praying for you.”

  Praying for us? An image of Tavie standing at a pulpit beckoning villagers to gather around flashed in my mind. “And you decided to come up and pray right here in the middle of the village?”

  “Exactly.” Tavie held up her hands. “Don’t worry, we’re not zealots. We didn’t come here to try and convert anyone. The girls and I simply take comfort knowing that a higher power is watching over us. I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something strong surrounding your village. We all sensed it as soon as we got here.”

  The girls nodded.

  “It is okay that we sit here, isn’t it?” Tavie had been nodding her head the whole time she spoke. Subliminally trying to convince me to agree with whatever she said? “We just felt . . . summoned, I guess, to be here and do what we know to do to help. And that is to pray.”

  A shiver shot up my spine. “Summoned?”

  Tavie narrowed her eyes as she stared at me. “That’s been happening, hasn’t it? Others have said the same thing, haven’t they?”

  River Carr two months ago. My sister last month. Various visitors who stopped for lunch and stuck around for a few days. Tripp arrived shortly before I did in May and decided to stay.

  “There have been a few occurrences,” I acknowledged.

  “Being called to a place doesn’t always mean you’re going somewhere good. Sometimes, it means you’ve got work to do.”

  I swallowed. “I understand that.” I almost told her that’s why I stayed in Whispering Pines after initially coming to sell Gran’s house. It’s not that I felt summoned, but once I got here, I knew this was where I was meant to be. That’s how it was for my grandparents, too, which was fortunate since they’d bought the two thousand acres sight unseen. “Where are the four of you staying?”

  “We don’t have a place yet,” Melinda said with a touch of irritation and a quick glance at Tavie.

  “We got here about an hour ago,” Tavie explained, “and have been walking around exploring the place.” She pointed at the white marble well at the center of the garden. “This felt like the strongest spot, so we decided to sit and offer our prayers here first. Finding somewhere to stay was the next item on our agenda. Do you recommend anywhere in particular?”

  Biting back a grin, I said, “Since you asked, I happen to own a bed-and-breakfast and have plenty of room available. Our prices—”

  Tavie waved me off. “Doesn’t matter what your prices are.” She turned to the trio sitting on the ground and looking hopefully up at us. “What do you say, girls? Should we take the sheriff up on her offer?”

  All three agreed.

  “I was just about to head hom
e. Where did you park?”

  Melinda and Silence pointed northwest as Tavie said, “In the parking lot just past the campground.”

  “I’ll meet you there. I’ve got to get my car.”

  Feeling suddenly revived and excited for the first time in a week, with the exception of looking forward to the upcoming Thanksgiving buffet and football game marathon, of course, I noted a little skip in my step as Meeka and I made our way back to the station.

  Chapter 4

  It was almost embarrassing how excited I was to have these four ladies come stay with us at Pine Time. Picking up on my mood, Meeka was excited, too, and pranced around me as we walked along the Fairy Path. I understood now why Gran was so eager and willing to let others stay when they showed up on her doorstep. That big house needed to have lots of people in it.

  Ten minutes after leaving the quartet, I pulled into the west side lot to find Gloria and Melinda piling into the back of a little black Mercedes SUV.

  “The house isn’t far from here,” I told Tavie. “Only about a two-minute drive.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy we are about this,” Tavie said as she slid into the driver’s seat. “We knew we’d find a place. We just hadn’t expected our host to come to us.”

  They followed me west along the highway and then south onto the short road that became my long driveway. I slowed as we passed the Whispering Pines campground. It had been closed for the season since the beginning of the month, so the olive-green Excursion and royal-blue Nissan pickup truck that had caught my attention earlier today stood out like cats at a mouse gathering. Guess I’d been right about them wanting to camp. They’d made themselves comfortable with pitched tents and a big campfire.

  I stopped my vehicle and motioned for Tavie to pull up next to me. When she did, Silence lowered the passenger’s side window.

  “I need to make a quick stop here and find out what’s going on,” I told them. “The bed-and-breakfast is at the end of this drive. I won’t be long. One of the patio doors in the back should be open, so go on inside and make yourselves comfortable.”