Sweets nodded. “Should we go sit down?”
“Great idea. Anyone want a cup of tea?” my mother asked as she went around the counter to grab a tea bag from a cabinet.
“I’m fine,” I said, as the rest of the girls grabbed coffee cups from the tray of cups on the counter. I left them in the kitchen to find Alba pacing the lengths of the dining room while talking to Detective Whitman.
“No, I understand – yup – ok, thank you,” she said finally and hung up.
“What did he say?” I asked her as I pulled up a chair to a round table.
Alba sat across from me. “He said he’ll look into it more. He didn’t recognize the name. No one reported finding an Arthur Maxwell or anything.”
Her despondent look plucked at a string inside of my heart. “We’re going to find him,” I assured her. “Dr. Hamley himself said that Tony was healthy when he left. Be thankful that he got medical help!”
Alba nodded and looked down at her hands, picking at her fingers anxiously. “Yeah, I’m just worried about him. He’s out there, and he has amnesia. Who knows what that lady is doing to him! She could be like the psychotic woman in the movie Misery!”
I laughed. “Alba, he’s with Grandma Maxwell. She bakes cookies and muffins. The only thing that’s going to be wrong with Tony when we find him is that he’s going be a few pounds heavier! No big deal. Ok? Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine!”
She shoved her phone across the table with frustration. “Ugh,” she groaned.
My mom and the girls came out of the kitchen with their little coffee cups, and my mother carried a plate of cookies with her. “Ok, now we can talk,” she said, pulling up a chair. “What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to my grandmother,” Sweets said excitedly.
“Why do you need to talk to her? Is something going on?”
Sweets took a sip of her tea and then put the cup down gently on its saucer. “Nothing bad or anything,” Sweets assured her. “You remember me mentioning that I’m going to be entering a pie baking contest that Mr. Bailey is having at his bakery?”
Mom nodded.
“Well, I need to make a recipe that will blow his socks off. I really want to approach him about possibly doing an internship there next year sometime, and I want to impress him. So I was going to make my grandmother’s Witch Pie recipe, but I called my mom, and she said that my grandmother took the recipe to her grave. It’s not written down anywhere, and no one knows how she made it.”
Mom looked surprised. “You’re sure she never wrote it down anywhere?”
Sweets nodded. “My mother wouldn’t say much about it, but only that she was very protective over that recipe.”
“So…you want me to summon your dead grandmother so you can convince her to give you a recipe that she intentionally took to her grave?”
A slow mischievous smile spread across Sweets’ round face. “Is that wrong?”
My mother laughed. “I don’t know if that’s wrong or not. I’m a little surprised that your grandmother didn’t share the recipe before she passed. What good would it do not to pass it on?”
“I have no idea! I was only, like, eleven or something when she died.”
My mother sighed. “Ok, well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I decided that I will help you summon your grandmother’s ghost – IF – you do me a favor.”
I looked at my mother in surprise. What could she possibly want from Sweets?
“Anything!” Sweets answered happily.
Mom glanced up at me cautiously while the tip of her finger traced the smooth white handle of her coffee cup repetitively. “I have invited both Mark and Merrick to Thanksgiving dinner. I need to settle things once and for all. Merrick is my past and thinks we were deprived of a future and wants us to see if we could pick up where we left off. Mark is incredibly sweet, and it’s all new and exciting and ohh,” she sighed, “that whole Tom Selleck thing he’s got going on, just melts me!”
“Mom! Are you seriously asking Sweets’ for dating advice right now?” I asked. I could feel my face warming instantaneously. How embarrassing to have your mother asking your best friends for dating advice!
My mother waved her hand at me. “Shush!” she said to me with furrowed eyebrows, then turned her attention back to Sweets. “I really think Mark and I could make it work, but I can’t focus on that relationship because there’s Merrick. And then I think of the fact that Merrick was my first love and my son’s father. I feel like I owe it to both him and Reign to try and give that relationship a chance.”
Holly shrugged. “What’s the problem? Date them both.”
Mom let her head fall into her hands. “I wish I could, but I’m just not good at stringing two men along. I’ve always been a relationship kind of person, not a casual dating type of person.”
I stood up and pushed my chair in. “This is so embarrassing.”
My mother waved her hand at me. “Oh, Mercy, what’s the big deal?”
“My friends don’t want to know about your love life!” I insisted. “That’s the big deal!”
Sweets giggled. “Mercy, it’s ok. I don’t mind. Linda is going to help me, and I owe it to her to help where I can. Besides, this is my specialty!”
“Ugh,” I groaned as I scooped Chesney up from the floor.
“Thank you Sweets,” Mom said happily. “I’m wondering if you could possibly bring one of your matchmaking treats to Thanksgiving dinner? Something to clarify who the universe wants me to be with right now?”
Sweets clasped her hands together. “Oh! That’s such a wonderful idea. I have just the recipe for that! Absolutely. I will make you a dessert that will set your mind straight!” she insisted.
Mom looked astonished. “Really?”
Jax nodded. “Yeah, really? It’s that easy?”
“That easy!” Sweets said with a wide grin on her face.
Mom lifted her eyebrows. “Well then, let’s get started on calling up your grandmother! What was her name?”
“Wilhelmina Porter. She was my father’s mother,” Sweets said.
“Ok, Mercy, go lock the front door while you’re up. We don’t want anyone just walking in on us. We’ll also need to clear some of these tables, and we’ll need half a dozen candles. I know there are some in the guest rooms upstairs. Alba, Holly, Jax, go check all the rooms. See what candles you can find. Sweets, we need to offer your grandmother something to eat that would appeal to her. Something that smells good – bread, cookies …,” said Mom.
“Soup! Grandma Porter loved soup!”
Mom smiled. “Well, that’s good. Soup of the day today is veggie beef. I’ve already got it made. It’s in the fridge; we just need to heat up a bowl. Why don’t you go get that ready?”
Sweets squealed excitedly and took off.
Mom let out a deep sigh. “Mercy, we’re going to need to have a notebook and a pen handy to write down the recipe if Sweets can convince her to give it up.”
I nodded and went to the bar to grab the binder I knew Reign kept behind the counter. “I can’t believe you’ve never taught me to summon ghosts before,” I told her.
Mom shrugged as she slid tables and chairs around the room. “Eh, you weren’t old enough. There’s a lot of responsibility in summoning ghosts. That’s not something you let a fifteen-year-old do on her own.”
“I haven’t been fifteen for years, now Mom,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.
She moved one round table in the center of the room. “Well, to be fair to me – from fifteen to nineteen – you weren’t exactly the most responsible teenager on the block. And you’re still learning. I figured you’d figure out what you needed to know when you got to college, and then we’d go from there.”
“I can’t take Intro to Mediums until next semester,” I told her. “I suppose I’ll learn it then.”
“Ah,” she said. Then she looked up the stairs. “How’s Alba doing? Any luck finding Tony?”
I sighed as I brought the
binder around the bar and sat it down on the table. “He’s alive. We know that. He’s confused about his identity, I guess.”
“Confused?”
“He thinks that he’s someone else,” I explained. “He thinks his name is Arthur Maxwell.”
My mother made a face. “Hmm. Maxwell. I’ve heard that last name before. Where have I heard it?” she wondered aloud, drumming her temple lightly with her fingertips.
“The name Maxwell is familiar to you?” I asked, stunned.
Alba was just coming down the stairs as I spoke. “You know the name Maxwell?” she asked, her pace quickened as she spoke.
Mom held up a hand. “Sorry ladies. I didn’t mean to excite you. Yes, I know I’ve heard that name before. I just can’t quite remember where.”
“Well, think, maybe it’ll come to you!” I insisted.
She nodded and gave Alba a kind smile. “I’ll think on it. If it comes to me, I’ll be sure to let you know! Now, on to ghost summoning. We’ve got our casting area cleaned out here. We’ve got a round table. Sweets!” she hollered. “Do you have that soup heated up yet?”
“Almost! One more minute,” Sweets hollered back from the kitchen.
“Ok, now we need the candles spaced out evenly around the table, go ahead and light them. Did you find six?” she asked, looking at Alba.
Alba held out two candles. “These were in the room at the end of the hallway.”
Holly and Jax each held up their hands as they descended the stairs. “We found more.”
“Ok, we just need six,” my mother repeated, arranging the candles on the table.
“Anyone have a lighter?” she asked.
Jax giggled. “No, but we have an Alba!”
Alba rolled her eyes, but snapped her fingers and blew, instantaneously lighting the six candles.
“Nice!” my mother said. “You’ll have to teach me to do that sometime!”
We heard the microwave beeping from the kitchen, and a few seconds later, Sweets emerged with pot holders on her hands carrying a hot bowl of soup.
“Here, put it on this,” my mother said and put two cloth napkins down in the center of the table.
Sweets set down the bowl of soup and then stepped back. “Ok, now what do we need to do?”
“Now we’re ready! Jax, we only need five for this spell, but we do need someone to write down the ingredients of the recipe if she’s willing to give them. Can you write them down for us?”
Jax stuck out her bottom lip but nodded grudgingly. “Sure Aunt Linda,” she grumbled.
“Good, here’s the paper and pen. You can sit right over there at the bar,” Mom instructed. “Now, the rest of us need to form a circle around the table. Everyone join hands.”
We all moved quickly around the table and two by two our hands all joined.
“Ok, witches. This is going to be like any other chant you’ve done as a group. Release the tension in your shoulders. Focus on your breathing. When I feel like we’re ready, I’ll start the chant. You go ahead and join in when you’re mind is focused. When we’ve all had time to relax and get focused, the spirits will hear us. Are we ready?” she asked.
The four of us around the circle nodded. Mom looked back at Jax. “Jax, you ready?”
“I’m ready,” she hollered back.
“Ok, here we go,” she said. “Eyes closed.”
The five of us all closed our eyes. I could hear the slow, steady, breathing of Holly next to me. Sweets on the other side of me had a harder time regulating her breathing, she was too excited, but little by little, I could feel her energy calming. With my eyes closed, I could smell the delicious warm aroma of my mother’s homemade vegetable soup. It made my stomach churn hungrily. Finally, I heard the smooth sweet sound of my mother’s melodic voice breaking the silence as she chanted solemnly.
“Our beloved Wilhelmina Porter, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us, Wilhelmina, and move among us.”
I listened to her chant the words a second time and then joined in immediately. It had been easy for me to focus, and I knew I didn’t need to wait any longer. I chanted along with her.
“Our beloved Wilhelmina Porter, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us, Wilhelmina, and move among us.”
We chanted several more times, each of us joining in as we felt ready, until finally, the five of us were chanting in unison.
“Our beloved Wilhelmina Porter, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us, Wilhelmina, and move among us.”
I could feel the energy spiraling around us and through us. I could hear the crackling noise of the spirits being called as the air seemed to move around me. Finally, I heard a loud snapping sound, as if something had just broken in half. My eyes popped open to find a heavy set apparition, dressed in a robe and house slippers, floating in the air before me.
“Whadda ya want?” the ghost cried angrily. “I was in the middle of something!”
8
“Grandma!” Sweets called out breathlessly.
Wilhelmina Porter spun around in the air and looked down at her granddaughter, still holding hands in the circle. “Mildred! What in the world! You called me here?”
Sweets smiled giddily from ear to ear as she nodded. “Yes, Grandma! I called you here!”
“Well for heaven’s sake, child. I’ve been dead for years. Why in the world are you just now calling me?”
Sweets looked down at her shoes. “Well, I wanted to see you.”
Wilhelmina looked at her granddaughter suspiciously. “After nine years, you wanted to see me?’
Sweets shrugged. “Ok, well, maybe I wanted to ask you a question.”
The old apparition nodded knowingly. “Yes, I figured as much,” she said, stiffening her back and standing up straighter.
“What is it? Where did I hide the family jewels? Which of my children did I love the most?”
Sweets giggled. “Not quite. I was sort of …. hoping you’d give me your Witch Pie recipe.”
Wilhelmina threw her head back and guffawed. “Well isn’t that just a kick in the crotch!” she hollered.
I looked around. I wasn’t sure if that meant Wilhelmina was pleased or angry or what. Sweets didn’t seem to know what to think either.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. I thought you’d be happy to have your recipe passed on. We haven’t made it since you’ve been gone.”
Wilhelmina lowered herself closer to the ground and floated in closer to her granddaughter, peering her directly in the eye. “You listen here, missy,” she hissed, pointing her short, chubby finger at Sweets’ face. “I took that recipe with me for a reason! And I’m not giving it up for anything!”
“Grandma! Why? What happened?”
The old woman stood up straighter, composing herself, and lowered her finger. “Well. That’s neither here nor there. You’re not getting that recipe. So just send me back to where I came from. I was on my way to get a spa treatment. If I miss my appointment with Bernardo, I’m haunting you for a century!”
I couldn’t help but laugh, silently, so as not to disturb the rapport between Wilhelmina and Sweets.
“Grandma, I need it for a good reason!” Sweets cried.
That interested Wilhelmina. She looked down at her granddaughter. “What could be so important that you’d literally bring me back from the dead to get that recipe?” she asked.
“I’m living in Aspen Falls, Pennsylvania now, Grandma. I go to the Paranormal Institute for Witches. It’s witch college. And there is this bakery in town that is having a contest for the best, most interesting pie! I really want to try and get an internship there next spring. I think your pie would impress the owner. Please, Grandma?”
Wilhelmina looked down at her granddaughter grudgingly. “Ugh,” she groaned. “The prize is an internship if you win the contest?”
Sweets shook her head. “No, the prize is a lifelong subscription to their treat of the month club! The internship would be a bonus if I impre
ssed him enough.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes nearly burst out of her skull. “Lifelong you say?”
Sweets’ head bobbed up and down excitedly. “Yes! I have to win it, Grandma! And I miss your pie. Please?!”
Wilhelmina thought about it. “I don’t want your mother to get her grubby paws on that recipe,” she finally growled.
Sweets’ eyes widened. “Mom? You don’t want mom to get it? Why?”
Wilhelmina waved her finger in front of her. “That’s none of your beeswax. She just doesn’t get it. Ever. Got it?”
“Ok?”
“I’m not kidding now,” Wilhelmina muttered, shifting her body weightlessly. “If I give this to you. And I find out you so much as told your mother about me giving it to you. I’ll haunt you. And not in a good way. You’ll never find your keys or a pair of matching shoes or socks again. Got it?”
Sweets nodded excitedly. “Got it. I can keep a secret. Am I allowed to make it for Mom?”
Wilhelmina flung her head back. “No! You aren’t! Then she’d know you had it. Understand? You can’t make it for her. You can’t tell her you know how to make it. You can’t do anything. We’re clear now?”
“Yes, we’re clear. I was just clarifying! I don’t want you to haunt me.”
Wilhelmina nodded. “Alright then. I’ll give it to you. Are you ready?”
Sweets looked at Jax who gave her a little thumbs up sign. Sweets smiled at her grandmother. “Ready, Grandma!”
“Ok. Listen up, because I’m only going to say this once.”
It was amazing how effortless it was for Wilhelmina Porter to recall the long buried Witch Pie recipe. She remembered her preferred apples and exactly the right dosage of salt, cinnamon, and vanilla extract. She made Sweets promise to use only real butter, and she cautioned her granddaughter to cover the edges of the pie with tinfoil if they were getting too brown and the center wasn’t cooked through yet. It was obvious that she had spent years perfecting the recipe and whatever had happened between Wilhelmina Porter and her daughter-in-law was unfortunate, because Witch Pie was never allowed to be served on the Porter Thanksgiving table again.
Witch Pie: A Witch Squad Holiday Special (A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 5