by Nicole Maggi
“Why not, Ed?” Lidia asked.
He flicked his gaze to her and back to the screen. “Because it was a Sunday. Right? I’m not open on Sundays. And I definitely wouldn’t have been open that Sunday. Not with the snow and all.”
“Well, there’s a receipt.” I scrolled down the page, reading line by line. “‘NA Moth. Quantity, one.’ Time stamped eleven in the morning.” I looked up at him. “What’s NA Moth?”
“That definitely can’t be right.” Mr. Salter nudged my shoulder. I got out of the chair, and he slid into it. He pulled the screen to the edge of the desk, so close his nose was almost pressed against it. “It stands for naphthalene mothballs. I haven’t stocked those in years. They’re illegal.”
“Maybe you hit the wrong button on the register by mistake,” Lidia said.
“Maybe.” Mr. Salter leaned back in the chair. “The time stamp makes sense, though. I left your house that morning around nine or ten and came back here. That’s the last thing I remember clearly.”
“Maybe someone knocked on the door, needing something in an emergency,” I said. Like a henchman from the Guild. “You would have opened up for that.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Deep lines grooved into his forehead. “And if the register did make a mistake in what the item was, that would explain it. But still . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
Lidia put an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll ask around town, see if anyone bought something that day. Someone else may remember for you.”
He smiled up at her, a tired but sweet expression like he used to give his late wife. Seriously, what was up with him and my mom? I tapped my foot against the leg of the desk. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”
“I’d like to reopen tomorrow,” Mr. Salter said. He stood up. Lidia and I followed him back out to the main store. “But the place needs a good cleaning.”
I surveyed the register counter, which was covered in dusty piles of unopened mail. “I’ll start there.”
“And I’ll do the floors,” Lidia said, heading for the broom in the corner by the door.
Mr. Salter turned on the little radio by the register, and we cleaned to the sounds of country music for over an hour. I had one more stack of mail to go through when a shadow darkened in the corner of my eye. I looked up. Just outside the plate-glass window, Bree stood, a plume of cigarette smoke crowning her head.
I glanced around, but Lidia was mopping the back of the store, and Mr. Salter was in the office. Moving fast, I slipped out the front door, hoping the music would cover the sound of the bell.
I shivered when the cold air hit me. “What’s up, Bree?”
She dropped her cigarette and ground it out with her heel. “I got some information for your girl.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s not my girl.”
“Whatever. I have information.”
“It’s about time.”
Bree stuck her hands on her hips. “It’s only been two weeks since I started my internship.” She jabbed a finger in my face. “You think spying is so easy, then you do it.”
“Oh, relax.” I looked back into the store, but Lidia and Mr. Salter were still out of sight. “I can take you to Nerina tonight.” I hugged myself and rubbed my arms. “Unless you’d rather go without me?”
“Well, I would, except I’d probably be stuck outside that godforsaken wall looking for the godforsaken secret passage for three days.”
I grinned. It was nice to know she needed my help, even if she couldn’t say it. “Meet me outside my house—by the barn—at ten thirty.”
“Fine.” Bree peered into the hardware store. “The prodigal son returns, eh?”
I waved her off. “See you later, Bree.” I ducked back inside. Warmth and twangy music washed over me, along with the smell of pine cleaner and sawdust. I pushed away from the door and headed to the counter. “Find anything else?” I called into the office.
“No,” came Mr. Salter’s voice, a moment before he appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame. “But I think I remember that Sunday sale.”
“Really?” My heart crept into my throat as I turned to him. “What do you remember?”
He scrunched his face up, as though the act of remembering was strenuous. “Well, it was like you said. Someone knocked on the door, and I opened it.”
“Who was it?” Say it was Mr. Wolfe or his creepy assistant or someone wearing a Guild baseball cap . . .
“Not someone from Twin Willows, that I remember.” Mr. Salter rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Said he got stuck in the storm. I’m pretty sure he bought towrope, though, not an illegal pesticide that I don’t carry.”
“Well, maybe you must’ve hit the wrong key on the register,” I said, turning back to the last stack of mail. “Like Mom said.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Mr. Salter disappeared back into the office.
I shuffled the envelopes hard against each other. So it wasn’t Mr. Wolfe or someone I knew for sure was connected to the Guild. But that didn’t mean the Guild wasn’t involved. I mean, some stranger shows up in Twin Willows right before Mr. Salter’s memory goes missing? That couldn’t be a coincidence.
I froze. A stranger . . . a lost memory . . .
The Guild had used mind tricks before. Tricks they pulled from the power of the Congo site.
And just who had the ability to wield that power?
A mage.
Bree was sitting on our front stoop when Lidia and I pulled into the driveway at dusk. I clenched my jaw as I opened the car door. Why couldn’t she ever follow directions? Was it so hard to remember barn and ten thirty?
“Who’s that, cara?” Lidia asked, coming around the other side of the car. Behind us in the driveway, Mr. Salter slowed his truck to a stop; Lidia had invited him over for dinner.
“Bree Wolfe. She, uh, is— We’re working on a project for school. I forgot that she was coming over.”
Lidia put an arm around my waist as we walked toward the house. “Wolfe, eh?”
I sighed. “Mom, don’t start. She doesn’t have anything to do with the Guild’s power plant.”
Lidia squeezed my side. “Actually, I was thinking more that she is Jonah’s sister.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “I tried to get a different partner, but Mr. Clemens wouldn’t let me switch.”
“What’s the project?”
Really, with the twenty questions? “It’s, uh, on the local economy. So I’m going to show her the farm, tell her how we operate and stuff.” That gave us a good reason to be out in the barn. I had to pat myself on the back; I was getting better at lying.
Bree got to her feet as we approached. Her gaze shifted to Lidia’s arm around my waist. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets. “Did I mess up the time?”
Was she kidding? I still wasn’t always sure with her. I gave her a big smile. “No, I forgot. But my mom is about to make dinner.”
“You’re welcome to stay, Bree.” Lidia unlocked the front door and let us all in. “Ed’s staying, and I’m sure Heath will be up, too.”
“Who’s Heath?” Bree muttered to me.
“The guy who helps run the farm. He lives in a cabin on the edge of the pasture, so he’s over all the time.”
And sure enough, no sooner had we all hung up our coats than the back door opened, and Heath dodged in, bringing a wisp of cold air with him. “Saw you guys pull up,” he said, unwinding a scarf from around his neck. “Can I help?”
“Why don’t you light a fire?” Lidia asked. “It’s freezing in here.”
Bree wandered around the living room, her fingers trailing over the back of the sofa, the lamp shade, the end table. At the mantel she stopped. “Who’s this?” she asked, pointing to a photo of a smiling man and woman standing in front of the barn.
“My grandparents.” I came closer so I could peer at the picture too. “My dad’s parents. I never knew them. They died when I was a baby. That’s why we moved back here from Italy, to run the fa
rm after they died.” I touched the glass lightly, as though somehow I could reach through time and space. My grandparents looked so kind and loving.
“They look happy,” Bree said, echoing my thoughts. “Sorry they’re dead.”
I rolled my eyes at her tactlessness. “Come on. Let’s go into the kitchen.”
As we bustled about getting dinner ready, Bree sat on one of the kitchen chairs, one foot tucked under her. She seemed to take everything in—how my mother held out the wooden spoon for me to taste the sauce, how Heath pulled vegetables out of the fridge to chop without being asked, how Mr. Salter brought some of his stored venison to thank us for helping him out that afternoon. When I came over to set the table, Bree took the dishes out of my hands. “It really does take a village, doesn’t it?” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, going back to the island for the glasses.
“It seems like people really stepped up,” Bree said. “With your dad gone and all.” She shrugged, placing a fork very deliberately next to one of the plates. “It’s a nice reminder that not everyone is always just looking out for themselves.”
I leaned toward her. “They’re just here for the food. I mean, you tasted the biscotti. Wait till you taste her venison marsala.”
Bree snorted. I left her to set the rest of the table and went back to the stove. As I did, I saw my kitchen through her eyes, the old-fashioned appliances, the worn tile, the cluttered counters. And yet, the room was filled with a soft golden light and the warm, comforting smell of a good homemade meal. I remembered the few times I had been in her kitchen. Everything was stainless steel and spotless, and her mother was always trying to cook something with a fancy French name. Maybe there was a deeper reason she’d shown up at my house five hours early.
We sat down to our venison and ate in silence for several minutes. Lidia took a sip of wine and leaned back in her chair. “So, Bree. How are your father’s plans coming along?”
I pressed my palms against the edge of the table. “Mother.”
“What?” Lidia raised her eyebrows innocently. “I’m just making conversation.”
“How would I know?” Bree said, twirling her fork in the air. “It’s not like I talk to my dad or anything.”
Lidia set her wineglass down, her face painted with a look that said she was about to light into someone.
I chewed as hard as I could to get rid of the food in my mouth, but Heath cut in before me. “Their plans for the power plant have stalled, haven’t they?”
Bree narrowed her eyes at Heath. “How would you know?”
I froze. Heath knew because the Malandanti no longer controlled the Waterfall, but Bree had no idea that Heath was a Benandante. Heath reached for his water. “Well, they didn’t break ground when they were supposed to, did they?”
“Ringraziare Santa Maria for that,” Lidia said.
“Yeah, it would’ve sucked, having these woods destroyed,” Bree said. She fixed her gaze on Heath’s face. “Especially that really pretty waterfall.”
Crap. She didn’t miss a trick.
“What waterfall?” Mr. Salter asked.
“There’s a waterfall in the woods,” Heath said.
“Really?” Mr. Salter paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “How far in?”
“About half a mile,” Lidia said.
I swung my gaze to her, my mouth open. In all the years I’d gone there with Dad, she never once acknowledged that she knew about the Waterfall.
“I can’t believe I never knew that,” Mr. Salter said. “I’ve gone hunting not far from there.”
Lidia looked at me. “Did you know about it?”
“Dad took me there,” I said softly.
Mr. Salter glanced at Lidia. A sad, sweet smile flittered on her face. She got that way whenever my dad came up in conversation. “Of course he did,” she said. Her voice was thick. “He loved those woods.”
“What about you, Heath?” Bree asked. “How did you find it?”
I wanted to stab her under the table with my fork.
Heath stared at her across the table, his face placid. “I like to wander.”
I hoped that was the end of it.
After dinner, we helped clean up, then hung back as the adults meandered into the living room.
“Uh, I’m going to show Bree the Cave,” I said.
“Be careful in the dark,” Lidia said. “Take the lantern.”
I pulled on my coat and grabbed the old kerosene lantern from its hook just inside the basement door. Bree followed me outside and caught my arm after I closed the door. “I thought we were going to see Nerina. You’re nuts if you think I’m going back to that creepy Cave with you.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” I handed Bree the lantern and slid my phone out of my back pocket. “If you’d gotten here when you were supposed to, my mother would be in bed, and we could go to Nerina’s and not worry about anyone seeing us. But, no, you had to change the plan.”
I sent a quick text to Nerina.
“Hey, not my fault that my mother had a meltdown of epic proportions this afternoon, and I had to leave my house.” She bit her lip and looked away.
I stuffed my phone into my pocket. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, well.” She exhaled hard and looked back at me. “She wanted to make lobster Thermidor, but when she went to the store, they were out of lobster. How a store in Maine can be out of lobster, I have no idea—”
“It’s out of season right now. The lobstermen don’t get enough this time of year, so some of the smaller stores don’t carry it.”
“Well, it would’ve been nice to know that ahead of time. Apparently she threw a hissy fit so big that the store manager had to call the police. My dad had to go pick her up.” Her eyes searched my face, as if she were challenging me to laugh or pity her or tell her what a jerk her mother was. I stayed silent. Bree swallowed hard and glanced back at the farmhouse. The lights made warm pools on the cold ground. Bree stepped into one of the pools of light, her face illuminated. “I bet your mom has never done that.”
“That, no. But she once refused to pay for a meal at an Italian restaurant because they used jarred sauce.”
Bree laughed. I took a step back; I didn’t think I had ever heard her laugh spontaneously. It was a full, rich sound. “I guess everybody’s parents have issues,” she said, hiccupping.
“I guess so.” We stared at each other, both of us on the verge of smiling.
The back door creaked open and slammed shut behind Heath. He stopped short when he saw us. “Evening, ladies.”
Bree pointed at him. “Why don’t we just meet at his cabin?”
My heart skipped about a dozen beats. “What?”
“You said he lives in a cabin on the edge of the pasture, right?” She shrugged. “Why don’t we just meet there?”
“Excuse me?” Heath stepped into the pool of light. “Meet about what?”
“Oh, please, like you don’t know.” Bree rolled her eyes. “You’re practically wearing a T-shirt with your animal alter ego on it.”
Without thinking, Heath and I rounded on her, backing her out of the light and into the shadows of the burned-out barn. For the first time since I’d brought her into this whole thing, I saw fear in her face, a realization that maybe she’d finally gone too far. She put her hands out in front of her, palms toward us as we advanced on her. “Look, I’m not going to say anything. It’s just—it’s obvious, okay? I mean, to me. Not to anyone else, I’m sure—”
“Was it because I knew about the Waterfall?” Heath asked.
Bree nodded. “Among other things.” She stopped and held her ground. “I mean, come on. You show up on Alessia’s farm right before she’s Called?” She looked at me, suddenly seeming to realize who she was again. “Please tell me that didn’t get past you either. And I doubt Nerina’s hanging around here because she wants to be BFFs with Alessia.” She spread her arms wide. “This is Benandanti Central, isn’t it?”
>
I glanced back at the house, but through the windows, I saw that the kitchen was empty. Lidia and Mr. Salter were probably hanging out in the living room, oblivious to what was going on right outside the farmhouse walls. Whatever was going on with the two of them, maybe having him around to distract her wasn’t such a bad thing. Beside me, Heath relaxed. I sighed and pulled out my phone again. “I’ll tell Nerina to meet us at the cabin.”
Chapter Twelve
Sometimes You Have to Take Pleasure in the Little Things
Bree
Heath’s cabin was tiny. Seriously, how did anyone live in such a small space? It was, like, one room. I guess he was trying to get the college dorm experience without actually going to college.
Alessia set the lantern on the table in the center of the room and settled into one of the hard wooden chairs. They looked about as comfortable as the chairs at school. No, thank you. I helped myself to the bed, rearranging pillows to create a little nest. Heath seemed mildly annoyed at my redecorating but didn’t say anything. We all sat in awkward silence, staring at each other for several minutes until the door whooshed open, and Nerina swept in. A cloud of expensive perfume—Shalimar, I think—swirled in after her.
Heath coughed, and I stifled a laugh. Yeah, he didn’t seem like the type to appreciate fine perfume. He seemed like the type of guy who’d take his girlfriend fly-fishing.
Before Nerina could say anything, Heath stood up. “Bree knows.”
“Eh.” Nerina waved a hand. “She would have had to learn sooner or later anyway.”
“Are you kidding me?” Alessia stomped a foot. “‘Eh’? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“I figured it out,” I said loudly. “It’s not like someone spilled the beans—”
“You don’t get it,” Alessia said, her voice low but sure. “If the Malandanti discover Heath’s identity, it won’t take them long to connect the dots to me and my mom.”
“Your mom’s not involved.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Alessia got to her feet and paced around the table. “They’ll think she is, and they’ll hurt her. They already destroyed our barn—”