by Tegan Maher
I made my way through the stream of last-minute shoppers, passing twinkling red lights and foil-wrapped lamp posts, listening to Holly Jolly Christmas play on an endless loop over the municipal speakers. I hurried passed the coffee house, the pie shop, and the stationary store, with signs screaming: Holiday Special! EVERYTHING MUST GO! I nodded a stiff hello to Herman, the owner of The Imaginarium, standing in his doorway across the street. The aging proprietor returned my greeting with a strong draw from his pipe, discharging three distinct smoke rings into the frosty air before scuttling back inside his boisterous gizmo shop.
“Hello, Maggie.” Erin, the curvaceous owner of Charmed, our rival potion shop, tersely greeted me. She balanced a crate of glass bottles on one hand while trying to insert a key into the door lock with the other. “I spotted your fitness tracker in the ‘lost and found’ box at the pie shop again. I do so admire your dedication to health.”
“And I admire how much money you must save by not wearing any clothes,” I said, surveying her low-cut peasant blouse and bare calves. Erin was a newcomer to Dark Root--a witch whose magickal leanings were questionable. We weren’t exactly friends. Though tempted to keep walking, I took the crate from her hand while she opened her door.
“Let it be known that I didn’t ask for your help.” She snatched the crate back from me, ducked into Charmed, pulled down the shade, and re-locked the door behind her.
“You’re welcome!” I shouted through the window before moving on. Maybe Eve was right--good deeds were wasted on ingrates.
When I reached Dip Stix Cafe, I stopped to inhale the intoxicating aroma lingering near the door. Chuck, the new cook, had been working on a bourbon-biscuit recipe. My mouth watered and my skirt preemptively tightened.
“Auntie Maggie!” Eight-year-old Nova barreled out from the cafe, nearly tripping over her snow boots as she ran to greet me. Crashing into my legs, her glasses went sailing, skipping into the street. I pointed a finger at the rimmed spectacles and they zipped back into my niece’s surprised hand, avoiding an approaching car tire in just the nick of time.
“You didn’t see that,” I said, putting my finger to my lips.
“I saw nothing.” Nova giggled, setting her glasses back on her nose.
Moments later, her father exited the cafe. With his penetrating stare, stiff pompadour, and black-leather jacket, Paul appeared to belong to another era. “Hey there, rock star.” Paul greeted me with a hug, then took Nova’s hand. “Eve’s not around, is she? I need to ask you something on the down-low.”
“Eve…” I clenched my jaw, not sure how much to reveal in front of Nova. “I think she’s busy with an errand. Need help with her present? She’s been gushing over a pink cashmere sweater…”
“Not exactly.” Paul cocked his head. A strand of his dark-blonde pompadour momentarily wilted, obscuring a blue eye before being folded back into place. Searching his jacket pocket, he removed a black velvet box.
“Is this…?” I asked, nervously taking it. A sparkling diamond ring glistened from within.
“Dad is asking Eve to marry him!” Nova grinned, pulling on one of her crooked pigtails.
“It’s about time! Oh, Paul! This ring is magnificent!”
“Think it’s big enough?”
I studied the ring more carefully, understanding his worry. Eve expected nothing but the best. “I’m really not sure how big these are supposed to grow,” I said, handing it back. “But if it were any bigger, she wouldn’t be able to lift her hand.”
“Trust me. She’d find a way.” Paul smiled wearily, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’ve been saving a long time for this. And now that I’ve got the ring, and my daughter’s blessing--” he kissed the top of Nova’s head, “--it’s time to make our family official. I’m proposing tomorrow at midnight in the town square.” He nodded towards the wooden gazebo at the edge of town.
“A Christmas Eve engagement,” I said, wistfully. “How beautiful.”
“Dad’s going to play his guitar and I’m going to sing!” Nova hooted, hopping from foot to foot. “We even wrote her a song.”
“Maggie, this is where you come in,” Paul said. “Can you bring Eve here tomorrow, just before midnight? Tell her it’s some holiday moon ritual or something. I’ll get the rest of the family here, but I need you to bring Eve.”
“Of course I’ll help, but are you sure you want us all there?” I asked. “Perhaps you know my children--the three harbingers of the apocalypse?”
“Absolutely! I want everyone to see me make a complete and total fool of myself. That’s how much I love her. But I need to keep this quiet for now. I’ll tell the others tomorrow.”
“Roger that,” I said, feeling honored. If there was one thing I was good at, it was keeping secrets. “Witches’ Honor. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Thanks. Nova and I will be mostly out of contact-- setting up. See you tomorrow night!” With that, Paul and Nova headed down Main, disappearing into the crowds.
So, Paul is finally proposing? How he’d managed to avoid marrying Eve for so long was beyond comprehension. My sister had made her intentions clear from the start, and she wasn’t one to let anyone off the hook. For anything.
I stepped inside Dip Stix. Every table and booth was filled with hungry, post-shopping diners. My husband, Shane, stood behind the register, shaking his head.
“Hey, sexy,” I said, sidling up beside him. “Why the glum face? Did you get so rich on Chuck’s bourbon-biscuits that you’re feeling guilty?”
“Not exactly.” Shane pulled me to the side, out of hearing range. “I’m glad you’re here. Eve’s on the warpath. She texted a few minutes ago, demanding I question every customer about some missing money.”
“Yeah, I was in the direct path of Hurricane Eve already.”
“Maggie, I just checked my register… I’m short two hundred bucks.” He lifted his eyes, scanning the dining room before glancing towards the kitchen. “I’m wondering if Chuck may have taken it. I know he has a checkered past… and he smells a bit like alcohol today.”
I glanced at the bearded, 65-year-old whom Shane had recently hired, casually refilling the coffee maker. “Chuck didn’t work with Eve this morning,” I reminded Shane. “And that’s probably the bourbon-biscuits you’re smelling. Don’t let your mind go there.”
“You’re right.” Shane nodded. “It’s easy to blame the new people, rather than admit someone you know may be stealing from you. Let’s hope it’s an out-of-towner and not a local. I suggest you watch your own register throughout the holidays. I gotta get back to work. Paul has the afternoon off, so we’re short-staffed.” He gave me a peck on the cheek before heading for the kitchen. “Don’t forget to pick up toilet paper on your way home,” he called, as the double doors swung shut behind him.
“And they say romance is dead,” I said, leaving the cafe. As I opened the door, it was caught by a stray wind, nearly hitting the town Santa.
“Ho-ho…watch your step!” he scolded, jumping away from the door.
“Sorry Sam,” I whispered, not wanting to blow his cover as I tossed my pocket change into his collection bucket. “How’s things?”
Santa Sam pointed at his sparse bucket. “Not good, Maggie. No one seems to have anything to spare this year. I’ll be handing out gifts at The Rhonda House tomorrow, but there won’t be much to give. It breaks my heart.”
I quickly rummaged through all my pockets, dropping in my remaining loose change. “I won't be able to cuss all day, now,” I said. “But it’s for a good cause.”
Sam beamed. “Thank you, Maggie. Your family has always been so good to me, letting me ring here for thirty years now. Sometimes I get discouraged…but continuing my wife’s work has sustained me. I promised myself that as long as my bell continued to shine, I’d be out here ringing.” He lifted his bell, tarnished by time and retaining only the faintest hint of its former gleam. He looked at it and his smile faded. “Maybe it’s time I retire us both.”
With that, Sam took his bucket and shuffled down the street, chiming his bell only sporadically now. Poor Santa Sam, I thought. Perhaps Merry could talk to him? She has a magickal way of cheering people up--a talent I clearly lacked.
Chapter Two
I crossed the street to Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe, our ancestral family business. The curiosity shop had held court at the end of Main Street for over forty years. Stocked with spell-crafting items, oddities, and occult books from around the world, it was the beating heart of Dark Root, drawing in customers from countries away.
Something felt off as I unlocked the door, and I immediately went to the register. “What the...?” The drawer was completely empty, except for some quarters and dimes. I lifted the money tray, finding nothing beneath.
My heart raced as I scoured the shop for the missing money. Perhaps Eve had moved it somewhere safer after discovering her own theft? No, she was meticulous and would never take the money without leaving a written receipt.
I’d been robbed, too!
I considered texting Eve or Shane, then realized it would only fuel Eve’s anger and Shane’s worry. “Crap!”
I had never been robbed before. I wasn’t sure how to feel - betrayed…hurt…enraged? The shop lights blinked off and on, flirting with a power outage. The floor rolled under my feet. I stepped away from a display of stone goddess figurines, lest the proximity of my anger turn them into a pile of rubble.
“Calm down, Maggie,” I said, closing my eyes. After several deep breaths, the lights normalized and the floor stopped shaking. I poured myself a cup of herbal tea to collect my thoughts.
The doorbell chimed as an older woman, layered in patch-work jackets, stomped the snow from her boots and entered the shop. Her hair was dyed bright red, with a ribbon of gray down the center part, and she carried a large shopping bag as a purse. “Hello!” She called to me, waving and cackling. “I’m so happy you’re here!”
“Immy!” My anger vanished at seeing Imogene Porter. The woman lived with her disabled husband on a small farm near the outskirts of Linsburg, the next town over. The duties of caring for both kept her so busy that she only made it to Dark Root during the holidays. I looked forward to seeing her every year. “I can’t wait to show you the new mulberry sage that just arrived. Not only will it rid your house of spirits, but it’ll – “
“No thanks, Dear!” She cackled again, the sound morphing into a coughing fit. I escorted her to the chairs in the reading section and quickly made her a cup of our famous eucalyptus tea. “This wet air isn’t good for me. I keep telling Herb we should move somewhere drier.” She took the cup from my hand as she hunkered into her chair.
We made small talk, discussing children and husbands and the holidays. “Take it from an old lady,” she said, after I complained that it’d been four years since my last full night’s sleep. “Time goes by so fast when the kids are little. Treasure every moment. You’ll long for those crazy days once your kids are grown.”
Imogene set down her cup and overturned her purse-bag onto the magazine table. It was a predictably random assortment of items: two loose cigarettes, a plastic pack of googly eyes, five swivel straws, a Big Bird wallet, and an assortment of rubber bands and paper clips. “Isn’t this a hoot?” she asked, slipping on a homemade sock puppet that didn’t see a washing machine before being repurposed. After returning the puppet to the pile, she handed me a small package that had also spilled out of the bag. It was wrapped in newspaper. “Merry Christmas! Or whatever it is you kids are saying these days.”
“You got me a gift?” I’d known Imogene since I was a kid, and in all those years she’d never brought me a present. “Thirty Days to a Fuller Bust!” I laughed as I unwrapped the book. “You remembered!”
“Mrs. Claus never forgets.” She winked. “Though sometimes it takes her a while to pinch a few pennies together.”
“Oh, Immy, thank you! And to think I’d almost lost my faith in humanity this holiday.” I peered down at my sweater. “I need this as much now as I did at seventeen. And after having children, maybe also a crane to lift them back into place.”
“You can probably find that at The Imaginarium.” Imogene joked. I noticed her front tooth had chipped since last year, and a blanket of weariness was wrapped around her. I suspected she was becoming more of a shut-in than ever.
“You know Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe is open year-round,” I said, taking her empty cup to the sink. “You don’t have to wait until December to come see me. How’s the car running these days?”
Imogene sighed deeply. “Car’s fine, but my eyesight’s shot. I have to rely on my son for everything. You know what’s good about getting older? Nothing.” She half-grinned, scooping up the rest of her bag clutter. “Roy will be here any moment. I better get scooting.”
“Roy?”
She nodded to the window. A shiny silver car with a shiny silver hood ornament pulled up along the curb. A tall, dapper-looking man in a gray suit stepped out of the vehicle. “My son,” Immy announced, motioning to the uncomfortable-looking man stepping into the shop.
“Oh!” Though Roy was around my age, I had few memories of the strange boy. He mostly played with Merry when his mother came to town.
“I should have known you’d be here.” Roy’s lips curled with disdain as he looked around my store. “I need to get going. You know how Beth gets if I’m late for dinner.”
“Oh, you care about Beth now?” Imogene retorted with a snort. “According to my daughter-in-law, you missed dinner with her five nights last week.”
“That could not be helped. I had certain work obligations to attend to. Shopping for candles and Ouija boards and whatever else is sold here is not the same thing.”
“Roy’s an important man,” Imogene said, shuffling towards the door where he waited. “He’s the Mayor of Linsburg and running for re-election. He’s too busy for fun.”
“Not only running, but winning.” Roy corrected.
“On a platform of banning witches from Dark Root!” Imogene snapped, poking him in the chest. “That’s not how you were raised.”
“A perfect segue for my next point. Do you know what my constituents would say if my own mother was caught in a shop like this? You shouldn’t be here. Dark Root and Linsburg folks shouldn’t intermingle. Best to stick with our own.” Then, to me, added, “Sorry, I don’t mean that with any offense.”
“Oh, then how did you mean it?” I asked, my fingers prickling with liquid magick. “Imogene is a grown woman. She can make her own choices.”
“You should stay out of things that don’t concern you,” Roy said.
I clenched my hands into a fist, to prevent unleashing on him, prompting the store lights to flash several times.
“Let’s go,” Roy said, looking up at the light fixtures as he quickly left the store.
“You can stay if you want to,” I said, following Imogene out. “I’ll make sure you get home.”
“It’s alright,” Imogene said, squeezing my arm. “I have to get back to my husband, anyway. It’s time for his heart pills. If he doesn’t take them every day, things get bad. I’m glad he doesn’t know how expensive they’ve gotten or he might stop using them altogether. Well, goodbye dear.”
Roy opened the car door for his mother, then ran around to the driver’s side. Imogene forced a smile as she climbed inside. Two shopping bags tumbled out of the car - one from Charmed, the other from my own shop. I placed them into her lap once she was seated, noticing that the back seat was also full of bags and packages
“For someone who doesn’t like Dark Root, you sure did a lot of shopping,” I said, looking at Roy.
“It’s all my mother’s,” he scoffed, nodding at the stockpile behind him.
“Oh?” Imogene was perennially penniless, forever counting out change for coffee. “Good year at the farm?” I asked her.
“Worst year ever,” she said, closing the door and rolling down the window. “But life is too short not to ce
lebrate, don’t you think?”
Chapter Three
That Same Evening
Main Street
“You really think sweet old Immy is the thief?” Merry asked from behind the steering wheel of her sedan. She was wiping at the steamed-up windshield with a stray mitten. We were parked in front of her shop, eating frosted reindeer cookies.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, licking icing from my fingertips. “There was a Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe bag in her car, which proved she was at the shop that morning. She could have looted the register--and Eve’s wallet--in one fail swoop.”
“Because she’s so nimble, right?” Merry teased. “Maggie, she’s seventy if she’s a day.”
I puckered my lips, debating whether or not to have another cookie. “I’m not saying it would’ve been easy, just that she was there. The entire back seat was loaded up with purchases, from every store in town. You know as well as I do that Immy has no money.”
“It does seem strange that she would suddenly have the funds for such extravagance. Still… it’s Immy! She won’t even jaywalk! There’s no one else you can think of?”
There had been someone else--someone with access to Eve, my store, and the Dip Stix register. Paul. My prospective brother-in-law, who suddenly managed to buy Eve an expensive ring. I couldn’t bring this up to Merry, though. There had to be someone else.
“You said there was a Charmed bag also, which means Immy was there, too. Let’s ask Erin if she’s missing any money,” Merry suggested. “The Charmed light is still on.”
Up and down Main Street, the storefronts were going dark. Yet a soft yellow light still flickered in Erin’s window. I groaned, grumpily regarding my sister. “How about just one of us goes, preferably you, and the other mans the getaway car. Preferably me.”
“Flip you for it.” Merry said, producing a quarter from the cup holder. “Heads or tails?”