“Thank you,” Lily said, though she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that meant Polly understood their stance on the matter.
“So it is time we changed your vision.” Polly lifted a finger and looked around the dining room. Seeing the gnome statue, she sighed. “Lugwick, what are you doing in here? I thought I left you in the garden. Herman cannot play with you. Last time, you kept him out all night.”
“Polly, you do know they’re not real, right?” Lily asked, concerned.
Polly leaned over and picked up the statue. She handed it over to Lily. “Feels real to me.”
Lily cradled the gnome in her arms.
“Uh, you might not want to put Lugwick’s face there.” Polly motioned to where the gnomes head pressed against her chest. “He develops crushes easily.”
Lily turned him around to face Polly. “You never said who cleaned up the house. Did you hire a crew to come in?”
“Just me and the gnomes. Well, and the ghosts, though I think we can all agree they haven’t been lending a hand around here.” Polly chuckled.
“You cleaned all of this by yourself?” Dante asked in surprise.
“It wasn’t hard. I just waved my magic finger, pointed and bapped, wiggled and—”
Polly’s words were cut off as a spark of pink erupted from the tip of her finger and shot across the room. It wrapped around the broken chair and the wood grew a new leg to replace the damaged one.
The woman gasped and then giggled. “Misfire. Sorry. I guess it wasn’t done. See what I mean? So much energy in these walls. I bet you couldn’t do that in Washington. I know I couldn’t in Maine. Not as powerful as that.”
“How…?” Dante whispered in shock.
“What just happened?” Lily held the gnome closer and stepped away from the woman. The sound of footsteps echoed above them, but she ignored it. “How did you do that?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention, sugar bee? I told you. This place is magic. You act as if you’ve never seen a spell before.” Polly took the repaired chair and placed it by the table before pointing at the broken leg on the floor. “You can go now.”
The leg disappeared.
“How…?” Dante repeated a second time.
“Shut your mouth, Florus, or the ghosts will get in,” Polly warned. “The disembodied are always looking to hitch a ride in the right vessel.”
Dante snapped his mouth shut.
Lily’s heart beat a little too quickly. She stared at Polly’s hand. “I don’t understand.”
“Darlings, the Crawfords and Goodes come from a long line of witches. Surely you saw your mother casting a few spells? And you can’t tell me you’ve never shown signs of your true natures?” Polly went toward Lily and took the gnome from her. “I suspect it will erupt much stronger in you, now that you’re back where you belong.”
Before Lily could respond, Polly walked out of the dining room.
“Tell me I’m dreaming,” Dante said, “or did the mentally unstable hippie just tell us we’re witches?”
“Oh, delicious, someone brought Stammerin’ Eddie’s. Best coffee in town,” Polly said.
“I think that answers your question as to her sanity.” Lily glanced out the doorway to where Polly placed the gnome on the chest by the coffee cup. She backed away. “If she thinks that’s good coffee, she’s definitely not to be trusted.”
Lily started to motion toward the back door through the kitchen. If they ran, they could most likely make it to the car. Was that overreacting? It felt like maybe she was overreacting. Polly hadn’t threatened them.
“The gnomes will take care of the weeds and trimmings,” Polly called. “They’re called garden gnomes for a reason.”
“Is she rifling through the stack of citations?”
Dante stared at the repaired chair, slowing reaching to touch it.
“Go get those citations from her, so they aren’t lost.” Lily pulled out a chair at the dining table, away from the magically fixed one. “We should sit down and go through them to make a plan.”
“I’m not going near scary-finger lady,” Dante denied. He made no move to leave. “She has to be crazy, right? I mean, witches?”
“I know it’s—whatever—but you saw what happened.”
“Shared hallucination caused by a rare mold growing in the walls?”
Lily took a deep breath. “You have to admit it makes sense.” Instead of taking a seat, she went back to the doorway to keep an eye on Polly who was still rifling through the papers. “Do you remember when we were little, before mom went off the deep end? The games we used to play? Our dolls walked on their own.”
“We were imaginative,” Dante said.
“They flew,” Lily countered.
“We pretended they flew. Jesse threw them.”
“Suellen Grace?”
“Imaginary friend.”
“Or ghost. We know what we saw. We all said we saw the same thing.”
“The memories of children are not reliable. You remember what that counselor said to Ila when she took us in? We made things up as a way of coping with an unstable home environment. We were isolated. Our mother was mentally unstable.” Dante’s voice rose in irritation. “We’d been living in a car.”
“And the sparkles shooting out of Polly’s finger?” Lily kept her voice low, not wanting to be overheard. What she was saying felt ridiculous. “What if we weren’t just imagining? What if the things we saw were real?”
“What if they were?” Dante countered. “All it means is our family is more screwed up than we thought.”
Lily studied the tip of her finger. Pointing it at the far wall, she said, “Bippity-ah-pappy-dappy-doodly-doo?”
Nothing happened.
“Oh dear, you’re not making any sense, sugar bee.” Polly appeared in the doorway. She placed the stack of papers on the table. “You didn’t drink any leftover potions out of my purse, did you? They have side effects. You really shouldn’t drink things if you don’t know what they do.”
“No, you said we were witches, so I was,” Lily pointed her finger, flicking her hand when nothing happened, “witching.”
“By speaking gibberish?” Polly laughed. “Magic doesn’t work like that. You have to have intent and focus, but not think about it.”
“But you…” Lily frowned.
“You can’t just bippity-bap with your dipple-stack.” Polly shook her head as if that was the most logical statement on Earth.
“I don’t think those are real words,” Dante said. He sat on the chair Lily had pulled out and slid the stack before him.
“They’re real sounds coming out of my real mouth.” Polly reached to slide the stack away from him. “These can wait. I think it’s time you learned what you can really do.”
Chapter Four
“I don’t understand.” Polly shook her head. Though it appeared she spoke to a gnome statue caring a gnome baby on the side lawn, her words were about Dante and Lily. “You can’t do anything. It’s like you’re…” Polly lifted Dante’s arm and jiggled it. “Not magical.”
“I told you this was insane,” Dante dismissed. “I think I’d know if I had magic powers.”
Lily agreed with her brother. She found the whole situation to be insane. She had a hard time thinking of this giant Victorian as hers. It didn’t feel like anything she’d own. It felt like an antique store, or a kitschy bed and breakfast that couples stayed at while on vacation. The furniture was beautiful but belonged in a Jane Austen novel. Lily was more of a Bohemian girl with a farmhouse style—weathered tables, decorative scarves, paintings with strange sayings done by amateur artists. This house might be vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t her home. If she had lived there, it was when she was a toddler. The only home she remembered with Marigold was in the car, and maybe squatting in a trailer before that.
Lily was inclined to agree with her brother. They weren’t witches. If they had some ability, it would have surely come up before now.
They’d been attempting to use their magic all afternoon but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t mimic any of Polly’s tricks. It was clear the woman had some special gifts. She grew flowers where there had been only rock, swept dust and paint peels across the porch with a hovering gesture of her hand, and shot sparkles out of her fingertips.
“And another thing, talking to the stupid gnomes is creepy.” Dante’s blood sugar was low from not eating which always made him more irritable than usual.
“He doesn’t mean—” Lily tried to soften her brother’s behavior, but Polly interrupted her.
“Now, you listen here, Mr. Grumpy Pants. I understand you’re having a hard time and I’m willing to give you leeway, but don’t think for a moment I won’t swat your bottom if you don’t show a little more respect to those trying to help you.”
Dante lowered his head. “You’re right. I apologize, Polly.”
“And…?” Polly prompted.
“And, I will try to be more respectful to you and appreciate the work you’re doing for us,” Dante added.
“And…?”
“Um?” Dante glanced at Lily. She didn’t help her brother out.
“Don’t you think you owe the gnomes an apology?” Polly gestured toward a gnome by the tree which looked to be sitting on a toilet with his pants around his ankles, reading a paper.
Dante again looked at her, and Lily just shrugged before motioning toward the toilet gnome.
“I’m sorry, toilet gnome,” Dante said.
“Harold,” Polly supplied.
“I’m sorry, Harold. I hope I didn’t disturb your, ah, private business... that you’re doing... out in public.”
“That’s better, Florus.” Polly nodded. “He accepts your apology and asks that you stop staring at him.”
“Maybe the magic skipped a generation,” Lily said. On the surface, being magical sounded like fun, but life had taught her that reality rarely lived up to expectations.
“Why would it do that?” Polly patted Lily’s shoulder as if to say, “That’s adorable, you silly child.”
“Then we’re just not meant to use it.” Lily stretched her arms over her head. “We’ve been at this for hours. Dante, are you about ready to head back into town to get something to eat?”
“You can’t go,” Polly said.
“We’ll be back in the morning,” Lily assured her. “I’m going to make a list of the supplies we need for tomorrow to knock some things off that list of citations.”
“No, I mean, you can’t go back to the hotel,” Polly clarified. “I told them to check you out of your room. You live here now. Why would you stay in a hotel when you own a perfectly fine house? Plus, the hotel is about to become home to a family of mice that a very precocious five-year-old keeps as pets and is about to set free.”
Lily stiffened and automatically turned her attention toward the three-story Victorian. “But, our bags…”
“Already in your rooms,” Polly said. “I put you close to me, Florus. I wanted to listen in case Herman got any ideas during the night. He doesn’t like you.”
Dante made a little choking noise.
“So, you are planning on living here, too?” Lily asked. “In this house?”
“Of course. I’d never abandon you in your time of need.” Polly skipped around the side of the house toward the front. Her square-dancing petticoat swished back and forth under her skirt. Lily and Dante were slower to follow. When they turned the corner, Polly was already on the porch going inside. “I think the gnomes are trying to tell you something. Hurry!”
Lily took a deep breath. After foster and group homes, she had never desired a roommate other than her siblings. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Polly moving in but didn’t think it polite to kick her out. It could be the woman had nowhere else to go, and she was family. Lily was not like her mother. She would never turn her back on family.
Polly ran up the stairs. Lily saw a gnome with a green hat placed on the bottom step. She moved past him. A second gnome stood near the top with his hands on his hips.
“Lily, I’m serious,” Dante said, “if you let Polly stay, we need to find a way to get rid of these gnomes or we’re going to have to rename this place the Garden Gnome Bed and Breakfast.”
They followed the trail of gnome statues to the third floor where Polly waited for them. A gnome in a green dress holding a bouquet of blue flowers stood next to the small locked door near the top of the stairs.
“What now?” Lily asked.
Polly lifted the gnome out of the way and set her aside on the floor. “You should look in there.”
Dante jiggled the knob, showing it was locked. “Do you have a key?”
“Oh, right, you have no magic.” Polly ran her hand over the door and then threw her shoulders back as she spread her arms wide. “I command you door to open!”
Dante shook the lock. It still didn’t open.
“Is that a spell?” Lily asked.
Polly laughed. “No. Just theatrics. You two seemed to want a big production. She reached for the knob and turned it. The door opened as if it had been unlocked the whole time. “I will leave you two to look. I’m expecting a delivery.” Polly disappeared down the stairs, her steps sounding more like hops as she left them alone.
“I hope the delivery is for mattresses. I don’t remember any of the rooms having them,” Lily said.
“It’s probably a shipment of refugee gnomes seeking sanctuary.” Dante picked up the green-dressed statue and turned her so she faced the other direction.
The room was dark, and Lily pulled out her phone to shine her flashlight app. The ceiling was high enough for her to stand but low enough to make her feel claustrophobic. There wasn’t much to look at, but she did notice a trunk shoved against the far corner.
“Didn’t the lawyer say something about your inheritance being in a trunk in the upstairs storage area?” Lily asked.
“Yeah.” Dante had never mentioned wanting to find it.
“I think this is it.” Lily gestured that he should go inside.
Dante looked as if he might refuse but finally ducked his head and went in. He started to reach for it but then stopped and jerked back.
“I think something is alive in there,” he whispered. “I hear scratching.”
Lily leaned into the room but didn’t go all the way in. “Stop avoiding. I don’t hear anything. That thing has been sealed up for who knows how long. There is no way a living creature would survive in there.”
“Rats,” Dante quipped.
Lily swept her light over the floor. “I don’t see any droppings. I think you’re safe. Just open it.”
“Whatever is in here won’t change anything,” Dante said.
“Florus, I think things have already changed for us. There is no going back. We can’t ignore the present for the comfort of the familiar past.” Lily moved the light so it spotlighted the trunk. “Now open that damned thing.”
“I hope you know you’re starting to sound a lot like Polly,” Dante grumbled.
“Bite me.”
Chapter Five
Nolan wasn’t sure what he was doing parked at the end of the driveway leading to the Goode home, but the strange note scribbled on pink floral paper had been intriguing. It wasn’t signed, but who else could it be from? Lily Goode was the only one who had a reason to ask him to come over.
Typically, Nolan would throw on a shirt, jeans, and work boots when he went on site for inspections. Everyone in town knew him, knew he was covered in dirt from being out on a job more often than not, knew he didn’t always trim his beard, knew he only wore a suit if there was a funeral. However, today he’d tidied his beard, put on a clean button-down shirt with his best pair of jeans, and slicked back his hair so it was out of his face. There was no time for a haircut, but at least it was manageable.
Lily Goode.
He wasn’t supposed to be attracted to her. The town wanted the Goode family gone. Already the siblings we
re being blamed for bad luck. Stammerin’ Eddie’s coffee machine broke. It was an antique that made the best coffee in the state. Sophia Ward lost three front teeth a week before her big acting job in a local cereal commercial. And Leda Bourreau’s soufflé fell, the first in the five years since she’d left chef school.
Whether Nolan believed the Goode witches being back had anything to do with these events didn’t matter. The townspeople believed themselves to be cursed by their presence. The trick was going to be making them leave without letting them know he was making them leave.
Nolan put his truck into gear and drove up the overgrown drive to park in front of the house. The evening sun was beginning to set. He tilted the rearview mirror to check his hair and ran his hands through it a few times.
When he reached to open the door, a woman in a square-dancing dress walked from the house. Her bright red hair was pulled into a bun on the top of her head. She carried a garden gnome statue and placed it in the overgrown weed patch by the front porch.
“Nolan Dawson.” The woman smiled and put her hands on her hips. “You have to be him. I would know the aura of the Dawson werewolves anywhere. I’m Polly.”
Nolan stiffened and stopped midstride. He automatically glanced around.
Everyone in Lucky Valley knew the town was full of the supernatural, but no one talked about it out loud. His werewolf heritage was not something he told people about. His particular line found it impossible to control the wolf during a full moon, and he’d been chaining himself in the basement since puberty each time it passed over. His grandmother called it the Dawson curse. His grandfather blamed the Goode family.
His father didn’t say anything as he’d broken his chains and was shot dead before he could attack a high school bus returning from a basketball game.
“I had a message to come by,” Nolan said. “Do I need my inspection clipboard?”
Better Haunts and Garden Gnomes_A Cozy Paranormal Mystery Page 4