by Cate Dean
“Always, ma’am.” He saluted Maggie and strode out of the room.
“Well.” Aunt Irene sat, looking tired. “You had quite the adventure.”
“Do you really believe in ghosts?”
“My dear Maggie. I know your disbelief is absolute, but I promise you, someday you will have to make a choice—ˮ She started coughing.
Maggie moved to her side, rubbing her back. “Are you all right?” The thought of losing her aunt terrified her. This place and this woman were the only bright parts of her life. “Can I get you anything?”
“Some water, dear. I am fine.” She patted Maggie’s hand. “The cold and the damp affect me more than they used to. After you fetch my water, you need to go up and change. The trick or treaters will be knocking on our door soon.”
“Okay.”
Maggie glanced out the nearest window as she headed back to the kitchen. It was almost sunset—and if this Halloween was like any others she’d managed to spend here, they would be bombarded with local princesses, goblins, and whatever ingenious costume showed up.
***
To honor Anya, Maggie chose the witch costume, brushing out her wild red hair until it frizzed around her shoulders. Her costume was a hit; many of the kids wanted to touch her hair, not convinced when she told them it was real.
She handed out enough candy to stock the local shop, oohed and aahed over all the costumes, and was exhausted by the time she finally turned off the porch light. Aunt Irene helped her clean up, dressed as a regal Victorian woman.
With her red hair coiled in an elaborate updo, her period gown, and the ruby earrings Maggie remembered from her first visit, Aunt Irene looked like she had just stepped out of a painting. She had certainly awed the kids who saw her, each one staring, wordless, as she slipped candy into their treat bag.
“Another successful All Hallows’ Eve.” Aunt Irene cradled Maggie’s cheek, the crystal blue eyes Maggie had inherited studying her. “You have become a beautiful, kind young woman, Maggie. I could not be more proud of you.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“When are you scheduled to leave?”
“Not until the end of the week.”
Aunt Irene smiled. “How would you like to attend an estate sale with me?”
Anticipation hummed through her. “Do you even need to ask?
***
Maggie didn’t see Spencer again until the day before she had to leave.
She showed up at his flat, the silver cup with her. There was no way for her to take it back to the States; it was too old, and she didn’t have any papers, or provenance. She knew Spencer would keep it safe.
He opened the door, leaning down to kiss her cheek before he took her coat and let her in.
“Sorry about abandoning you, Mags. I’ve been busy.”
“I went to two estate sales with Aunt Irene, and on a day trip to London, so I managed to keep myself occupied.”
He flashed her a grin and headed over to the coffee table. “This is what I’ve been busy with.”
She sat next to him, recognizing the scrolls from Anya’s secret room. “You’ve been translating them?”
“Kind of. They’re readable, to anyone familiar with 15th century English. I’ve just made them accessible to the average modern day reader. This is going to be my thesis, Mags.”
She smiled. “Which means a copy will go into the university library.”
“And every other place I can manage. I’d like to publish it, once I am in a position with a museum, and have some leverage.”
“It will take time, but we’ll get Anya’s story out there.” She stood, and pulled the cup out of her coat pocket. “This is for you.”
“Mags.” His eyes widened as he took it. “I can’t—this belongs to—ˮ
“Aunt Irene paid three pounds for it. She said she would take five. I already paid her,” Maggie said, when he reached for his wallet. “Consider it an early Christmas gift.”
“Thank you.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
She returned the embrace, already missing him. Spencer had been her best friend since they were ten; leaving him was harder every time she did it. Her dream was to move here permanently, join Aunt Irene in her consignment and antique business, and put an ocean between herself and her parents.
All she had to do was work up the courage to tell them. And raise the money to leave. They wouldn’t give her a penny, once they knew what she meant to do with the money.
“I can’t stay long,” she said. “But I can stay long enough to see what you’ve done.”
“Excellent.” He flashed his heartbreaking grin. “I’ll order lunch. The pub all right with you?”
“As long as I don’t have to go in.”
“Right. The usual?”
“Sounds good.” She picked up the closest stack of papers and started reading. “This is the transcript from Anya’s trial.”
“I was surprised to find it.” Spencer tapped the screen of his mobile, and ordered their lunch. “The author was also a Givens, so I’m guessing they wanted a record, for posterity.”
“Is the modern Givens as distasteful as his ancestors?”
“Nearly.” Spencer sat next to her on the sofa. “Your aunt described him perfectly—too pompous for such a small village.”
“I’ll be happy if I never meet him.”
“As long as you never apply for a job at the local museum, you won’t have the dubious honor. Thank heaven I’ll be working in London after school. I would wring the man’s neck if I had to deal with him on a daily basis.”
She looked at him. “Did you start applying already?”
“Not yet. But I will be looking next summer. You will be back then?” He looked so hopeful, she wanted to smile.
“You bet. A summer without Spencer is not a summer I want to experience.”
“Of course not.”
She laughed at his smug tone. When he jumped to his feet and headed down to get their lunch, she took the time to read more of his modernization. She could read the originals, but she always stumbled over the S and f, going back more than once to reread when she guessed wrong.
Anya’s powerful response to the accusation against her had tears stinging Maggie’s eyes.
“I am not what you claim, Simon Givens. I have always used my power to help the people here. You have benefited from my assistance, along with your family. I will never regret giving that assistance, even as you accuse me for the heinous crime of attempting to murder my Richard.” Maggie guessed that Simon Givens had squirmed at that part. “My beloved husband has stood for me, and if you refuse to believe him, then may God have mercy on your soul, for condemning an innocent woman.”
She set the scroll on the coffee table, picturing the beautiful, regal woman.
“I promise you,” she whispered. “We will tell your story.”
It might take some time, but Maggie knew, without a doubt, that the truth of what had happened in that doomed village would be told.
Spencer returned, holding up two bags. “Lunch is served... are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, wiping at her eyes. “I just read Anya’s statement.”
“Powerful, isn’t it?” Spencer set the bags on the corner of the coffee table and sat next to her, draping his arm over her shoulders. “She deserves to be heard.”
“And she will be.” Maggie laid her head against his shoulder. “You’re too stubborn to let it go.”
His chuckle rumbled in her ear. “You got that right. Ready for lunch?”
She nodded, and took the bag he held out.
They would eat lunch, talk, laugh, and fill their time together with memories she could take home.
Memories that would sustain her until her next visit.
“Pence for your thoughts.”
“They’ll cost you a pound.”
Spencer laughed, shaking his he
ad.
She smiled at him, and took a bite of her roast beef sandwich.
Life could be happy, crowded with moments like this. Maggie knew, one day, that all of her moments would be spent here, surrounded by the people who loved her.
Whatever it took, she would make that dream a reality.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Thank you for joining Maggie and Spencer for their first adventures! It was such fun, and I love being able to introduce Aunt Irene to all of you.
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I’ll leave you with a preview of the prequel, from my brand new series, The Fairytale Fix, coming Summer 2019. Enjoy!
Excerpt from Once Upon A Curse
After spending the rest of the night searching, Alexander gave in to exhaustion and headed to his rooms.
Giselle had found an exceptional hiding place—that, or she was actually gone.
“Too much to hope for,” he muttered, stumbling over his feet yet again. He waved to one of the maids when she stopped, concern on her face. “Stayed up too late.”
“Yes, Highness.” She smiled and kept going, a breakfast tray in her hands.
Was it that late?
“Or that early.”
He scrubbed at his face, trying to remember the last time he had stayed up all night. Saxon had given him an earful when he stopped to check on Reggie, pausing long enough to point a flour coated finger at him and ordering him to bed.
All he needed was a few minutes off his feet, perhaps some of Saxon’s delicious pastries; the scent of warm dough and almonds had left his mouth watering as he stood in the kitchen. If the maids were delivering trays, that meant—
A fresh burst of energy sent him down the last corridor and he skidded to a halt at the double doors to his room. When he pushed them open, he smiled at the silver tray sitting on the small table in front of the fireplace. Half a dozen pastries waited for him, piled on a plate, along with a pot of coffee.
“Bless you, Saxon.”
He grabbed the top pastry and took a huge bite, closing his eyes as he savored the sweet, warm frosting, the perfectly crisped edges, the almond paste that added just the perfect amount of sweetness to the dough.
Finishing off the pastry in record time, he reached for the second—and caught the edge of the table when a sharp pain dug into his gut.
“What—”
“Good morning, Alexander.” Giselle stepped out of Reggie’s chamber, smiling as she walked to him. “Enjoying your breakfast?”
Horror coiled through him, and he yanked his hand away before he touched the second pasty.
“What did you—” Another burst of pain cut him off, this one threatening to double him. He gripped the table with both hands, his fingers shaking. “What did you—do?”
“Defended myself, of course. You were determined to drive me away, with your jealousy, your petty, selfish need to keep your father all to yourself. He deserves happiness, and that happiness is me.” She clasped her hands together and studied him. “It was a clever idea, one that came to me while you were stalking around the castle. If I rid myself of you, there would be no one to stand between me and your father.”
“You—poisoned me?”
“Nothing so uninspired.” An ugly smile crossed her face. “I cursed you.”
~ ~ ~
Witch in the Dell
And 2 New Maggie Mulgrew Mini Mysteries
Cate Dean
Copyright, 2017
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except for use in any review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locales, and events are either pure invention or used fictitiously, and all incidents come from the author’s imagination alone.
About The Author
Cate Dean has been writing since she could hold a pen in her hand and put more than two words together on paper.
She grew up losing herself in the wilds of fantasy worlds, and has had some of her own adventures while tromping through the UK, and a few other parts of the world.
A lover of all things supernatural, she infuses that love into her stories, giving them a unique edge.
When she's not writing, she loves cooking, scaring herself silly in the local cemeteries, and reading pretty much anything she can get her hands on.
There - I got the official biography out of the way. I love to write, and yes, I have been doing it most of my life. I've made up stories in my head for as long as I can remember, and I am thrilled to be able to write them down and share them with you.
I love writing different types of stories, and jump from fantasy, to mystery and paranormal, then over to romance and YA. So many genres, so little time...
If you want to be the first to know when the next book is released, or be in on some fun, exclusive contests and giveaways, join my list here: http://catedeanwrites.com/join-my-list.
You can learn more about me and my books at my website: http://catedeanwrites.com
I look forward to meeting you. :)
Also by Cate Dean
Camp Firefly Falls
The Mystery of Love
Love in Time
Final Hours
First Breath
Second Chances
Three For Christmas - A Love in Time Christmas Story
Love in Time - The Complete Collection
Maggie Mulgrew Mysteries
Ghost of a Chance
Written on the Wind
Spirit of the Season
Dancing on her Grave
Way of the Witch
First Collection - Books 1-3
Witch in the Dell - And 2 New Mini Mysteries
Redemption of the Seven
No Greater Love
Big Sky Love
Shattered Throne
Blood Prince
Second Son
The Black Mountain Saga
Rosamond's Heart
Danel of Black Mountain
The Claire Wiche Chronicles
Rest For The Wicked
A Gathering of Angels
Carry On Wayward Son - The Claire Wiche Chronicles Book 3
Annie's Song - The Claire Wiche Chronicles Book 4
What Doesn't Kill You - The Claire Wiche Chronicles Book 5
The Claire Wiche Chronicles Volumes 4-5
More Than A Feeling
The Fairytale Fix
Once Upon A Curse
No Wand Required
If The Cloak Fits
The Monster Files
Alex Finch: Monster Hunter
Truth and Consequences
Welcome to The Haven
A Monster Files Wedding
The Monster Files
The Monster Files Complete Set
The Remarkable Life of Zach Wiche Continued
Once Fallen
Finding Grace
Standalone
The Claire Wiche Chronicles Volumes 1-3
Loving Kane - A Love in Time Story
Shattered Throne
Choices
Last Chance Jack
The Messenger
The Barricades
Ghosts of the Past
Watch for more at Cate Dean’s site.
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