Be Careful What You Witch For (Unexpected Witchcraft Book 1)

by Ava Day

  “Once the door is closed again, the alarm can be silenced by a hidden switch we put in the basement. That way you can still use the backdoor without having to come all the way up here to shut it off,” Brent explains as he shows me a small button under the concessions counter. “There's also an alarm on the front door.”

  “This is so great. Thanks!” I exclaim.

  “So am I off the hook now for the apartment thing?”

  “Maybe.”

  A scuffling from the kitchen tells me that Joy and Nate are coming up from the basement. She pops out of the doorway, tossing her purse on the concessions counter.

  “Penny, um… Would you like to come over to my workshop and see some of my work?” Brent asks.

  “Definitely. I'm sorry it slipped mind lately with all of the stuff going on around here.” I reply excitedly.

  Joy gives me a wink as she smiles mischievously. Brent leads the way to his truck and even holds the door open for me while I climb up into the cab. His house is just on the outskirts of town. The trip takes less than 10 minutes before we're rumbling down a long driveway. Pulling past the side of the house, he parks in front of an old barn as a light turns on to bathe the truck in a soft glow.

  “This is it. What do you think?” Brent asks turning to me.

  “I haven't really seen any of it yet. Do you live alone? That's a pretty big house,” I say.

  “I do. When I bought this place it was really falling apart, but I've put a lot of work into fixing it up. It's honestly the reason I decided to start a contracting business,” he explains.

  “Well, it's time for a tour then. I'd love to see the inside,” I reply while jumping out of his truck.

  Brent hops out and hurries around to the back door. Sliding his key in the lock, he pushes the old refinished door open and invites me inside, flicking the lights on. We're standing in a large kitchen. A farm sink sits under the window, but the rest of the kitchen has a modern flare mixed with some of the original elements. He really a has a nice eye for design.

  Brent leads me down a hallway, pointing out the bathroom and dining room along the way to the front room. I'm surprised to not find a super mega big television. Instead, I find a bookshelf with various pieces of stereo equipment buoyed by piles of vinyl records and cassette tapes. There is a beautiful wide staircase in the corner.

  “It's not that impressive, but I really liked the hardwood floors and crown molding so I kept all of that original,” he says while pointing up towards the ceiling.

  “You're selling yourself and this place short. It's gorgeous and I can't believe you did all this. Did you do the interior decorating too?”

  “Yes, do you like it?” he asks.

  “I do. You really have an eye for this stuff. Joy and I are lucky to have you working on the Beacon with us.”

  “You haven't even seen the rest of the house yet,” he replies.

  “Then show me,” I say as I race up the stairs to my right.

  At the top of landing there are three bedrooms, another bathroom, and an office. Each room retains the original farmhouse charm with a hint of modern design that makes me smile. Brent stands next to me as I linger in the doorway of the master bedroom. The bed is handmade, no store sells anything that intricately carved or well-constructed. I step through the threshold to run my hands along designs lovingly etched by hand.

  “I made that,” he says.

  “This is beautiful.” I reply, sitting on the king size bed.

  Patting the comforter next to me, I invite Brent to take a seat. He obliges my request, walking into the room to plop down next to me. He looks over at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before leaning in to kiss me. Always the gentleman Brent quickly stands up, clearing his throat.

  “That's the inside of the house. Would you still like to see my workshop where some of my experimental pieces are?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  A smile blooms on his face as he extends his hand. Stepping out the back door, I descend the steps carefully as I follow Brent through the night out to the barn. He grabs the handle, hauling the door open as it slides back on its rails. Pointing to a switch on the wall next to me, he asks me to flip it.

  Brent closes the door behind us and walks over to a workbench that's scattered with small carvings in various stages of completion. Running his hand along them lovingly, he stops abruptly and picks one up to hand it to me. It’s a tiny fox carved from linden wood, no bigger than my thumb. I bring it closer to my face to inspect it. Brent must have so much patience to achieve such fine details. The fur looks incredible and the face is lifelike without feeling cartoony.

  I place it back on the bench, looking at Brent for permission before picking up a small bird with its wings spread wide. Artists can be very finicky about people handling their pieces. Each feather along the tip of its wing individually carved. I set it back down gently and turn my attention to some of the big free standing pieces scattered around the work area. A large pine stump with wood shavings piled around the base has one half of a bear emerging from it.

  “That's my latest project. As you can see it's not finished. This piece is one of my many favorites,” he explains as he walks over to a 10 foot tall totem pole with an eagle capping the top.

  “Wow! It's huge! How many hours did that take to carve?” I ask.

  “I have no clue. Time just flies by out here when I have a chisel in my hand. I can tell you that I was working on it for two years, give or take a few months.”

  “That's museum quality craftsmanship. Do you ever sell any of your work? I would love to display some of these pieces at the Beacon when we get it up and running.”

  “I haven't really shown anyone my carvings. It never occurred to me that my work was that special, I don't have any formal training,” he replies.

  “With talent like this you don't need training. You should be teaching your technique,” I encourage him.

  He turns his attention to the rest of the barn which still has some horse stalls in the very back. “While I was renovating the house I made a small studio apartment upstairs. Want to see?” he asks.

  “Sure thing. What can't you do?' I joke.

  “I can't see ghosts,” he shoots back.

  The narrow staircase leads to one very large upstairs. Exposed beams and the smell of freshly carved wood make this the perfect escape for any artist. I might ask to stay here when I finally have time to work on my paintings. One large set of windows faces out from the front of the converted space. More finished pieces of carved wood adorn the apartment.

  “This is lovely. I'm surprised you don't live up here full time,” I say.

  “I do crawl up here sometimes when I've been creating all day and don't want to stray too far from my work,” Brent admits.

  “I understand completely how you feel, but I've never had the option to sleep above my workspace before. That would be heaven, I'm so jealous of you right now.”

  “Now you do sleep upstairs from your work.”

  “I guess I do. Is there anything else to show me? You don't have any secret passages or hidden staircases you want to show off?” I ask.

  “I wish. The Beacon is pretty neat with all of those little tricks. The best I can do is show you the moon where it sets over the mountains. Come over here with me.” Brent waves me towards the window and points off into the distance.

  The moon is hovering above the edge of the mountains, casting a gentle glow across the peaks. He puts his arm around me as I rest my head on his shoulder. I pull out my phone to show him pictures of my own artwork. He’ll have to wait until I move the rest of my earthly possessions to Spring Valley to see them in person. We chat for hours, hand in hand, just like we did when we were kids.

  The drive back to the Beacon is quick. Brent offers to walk me inside, but I decline. I stand at the front door and wave to him as he drives off. A smile spreads across my face and I can't help but do a happy dance in the lobby before I head upstairs. I burst i
nto the apartment to find Joy standing the kitchen washing some dishes. Moving to stand next to her I help by drying them before putting them in away. After we finish tidying up a bit, we decide to crack open a bottle of wine to cap of a great night.

  “I can't wait to show you some of the work that Brent does. So much detail,” I gush about how talented he is.

  “How was his house?”

  “Amazing. It's a gorgeous old farmhouse that he restored himself,” I reply. Joy smiles at my enthusiasm, she knows me so well. Yes Joy, I am really falling head over heels for Brent so wipe that grin off your face. Lifting our glasses we clink them together before taking a sip.

  “Not to bring the mood down but did you come up with any more ideas on solving our mystery?” Joy asks over the rim of her glass.

  “Nope, let's take a day off and work on our official business plan. We need to pick out a paint color for the lobby by morning. This mystery has gone unsolved for 30 years. It can wait a few more days.” I reply.

  “True. Have you seen any sign of Laverne? I haven't and it makes me wonder if there is some way we could contact her instead of the other way around.”

  “Like a séance?” I ask.

  “Exactly.”

  “I'm sure we could find something in one of the many books we now own.” We sit and talk business for a while before heading off to bed. I have trouble falling asleep. My mind keeps wandering back to Laverne.

  Chapter 12

  In the morning, I get up bright and early with Joy so we can start work on cleaning up the kitchen down in the theater. We have to figure out what equipment we need and what updates should be done to bring this kitchen into the 21st century. I plod downstairs with a cup of coffee in my hand. Joy shows up with wet hair after grabbing a quick shower.

  We stare at one another from across the lobby, both dreading the amount of work ahead of us. I wonder if the large pieces of furniture that are stored in here have some magical qualities or if they are just very nice antiques. I step around them, lifting the tarps that protect them to see if there are any labels attached. It's possible that the sisters just liked these pieces, they are beautiful. I grab the dolly from the corner of the room. Waving Joy over, I have her help me tip the armoire slightly so I can slide the dolly under it. Attaching the strap around it, I wait for Joy to winch it tightly.

  “Ready? Let’s teamwork this,” I say as we tip it back onto the wheels.

  Together we carefully roll it out of the lobby and into the auditorium. The slight slope of the floor makes it extra tricky to handle as we move towards the stage at the far end of the room. I glance into the horrid pit of water that is the orchestra pit as we struggle past it. Brent laid down some plywood for a makeshift ramp on one set of stairs the other day. Joy stands at the bottom and pushes while I pull from the handles of the dolly. I don't know how Laverne and her sister managed to move all of these heavy objects into the theater to begin with.

  “I see the wheels in your head spinning,” Joy says as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.

  “I was just thinking,” I reply.

  “Thinking about how two older women got all of these things in here in the first place?” she asks.

  “Exactly.”

  “Maybe we need to Fantasia this problem. You know magic brooms and such.” Joy suddenly gets excited as the idea hits her.

  “First, let's get this behind the movie screen and off the front of the stage,” I say, grabbing the handles of the dolly and maneuvering it around old set pieces.

  Joy runs ahead of me kicking loose boards and other random pieces of trash out of the way. We head back to the lobby with the empty dolly in tow. It already looks more spacious in here with that armoire gone.

  “Let me go grab that book of spells from upstairs,” Joy tells me over her shoulder as she ascends the staircase to the apartment above.

  In the meantime, I pick up a rag and begin wiping the loose dust from the concessions counter. The sound of Joy bounding down the steps precedes her bursting through the door and back into the lobby. She brings the book over to the recently cleaned counter. Flipping it open carefully, she begins searching for a basic spell to help us get this place in shape.

  While she continues looking for a shortcut, I decide to use my time to do some actual cleaning. I gather supplies and head into the galley kitchen. There's an old popcorn maker back here that should be displayed on the counter out front. After wiping it down with a damp rag, I carry it into the lobby. Joy seems to have disappeared with the book she was reading in the short time I've been gone. Intrigued, I go looking for her in the auditorium. She’s there, searching through the shelves.

  “I take it you found the spell you're looking for?” I ask.

  “Not exactly. I read that most spells need to be stored in an object, so I was hoping to find something that will work for us. Can you read any of these tags? We’re looking for a magic wand, stick, or broom,” she laughs.

  “Of course we are.” I roll my eyes before walking over to where I stashed the ledger of the items we’ve cataloged so far. I know that none of them were described to do anything that we would need, but I did copy the runic alphabet onto the first page for ease of use.

  “Here's the alphabet, knock yourself out. I am going to clean the kitchen some more. Let me know if you find anything useful. Like a spell for a bottomless bowl of ice cream,” I say as we share a laugh.

  When I return to the lobby I hear the low rumbling of Brent's truck just outside the front door. Excited to see him, I rush outside to say hi. He's with Nate and they are already unloading supplies so I hold the door open for them. Looks like our magic spell of moving heavy things just arrived. I smile like an idiot at Brent as he strides by.

  “What, I don't get a smile?” Nate jokes as he passes me.

  “Maybe you should give them out more frequently,” I reply cheerfully. I follow them inside and wait for Brent to unburden himself before attacking him with a hug and a kiss.

  “It's good to see you too,” he laughs.

  “I had a really great time last night.”

  “Me too,” he replies. Nate is already up on the roof, so I finish helping Brent unload the paint, drop clothes, and painters tape from the truck. While we're out there, he reaches into the cab and pulls out a stack of magazines.

  “Here. These are full of kitchen supplies. We get them at the hardware store from the woman we bought our coffee maker from,” Brent explains. “Ours is just a dinky little self-serve model for customers but there are some really nice looking machines in there.”

  “Aww, how sweet you brought me a present. Just what every girl wants, too. Restaurant supply magazines.”

  “You hang out with Joy too much, she's a bad influence on you,” he shoots back so I smack him with a rolled up magazine. With all the supplies for painting spread out on the floor, it looks even messier than when we started this morning.

  “Do you think you could help me move some of this furniture onto the stage? I don't want to get rid of it, but it can't stay here,” I explain.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Hey, Joy! Did you find that thing you were looking for yet?” I shout from across the auditorium.

  “Nope, still searching,”

  Brent and I manage to move the rest of the dusty antique furniture out of the lobby and onto the stage. The lobby looks so much better once we get the furniture out the way. It's refreshing to take some time off from trying to solve our mystery and actually get some work done on our business for a change. The space is enormous now.

  I help Brent lay out some drops clothes before deciding to get back in the kitchen. Filling a bucket of soapy water, I get busy with scrubbing every surface thoroughly. These piles of trash and broken down equipment need to go too. I salvage some of it, excited about an ancient stand mixer that appears to be made out of cast iron and an old industrial kitchen scale. Brent raises an eyebrow at the sheer amount of trash bags I bring out to put by the front door. So m
any rat nests it's not even funny. When Joy finally emerges from the auditorium, she is in awe of how nice the lobby looks.

  “Wow, Penny. This looks really nice. Is that mixer ours?” she asks, pointing to the behemoth sitting on the counter.

  “Yes, thanks for helping uncover it,” I say somewhat irritated.

  “I got distracted with the magic books, sorry. I think I found some options, but there aren't any instructions on how to use it and I don't know where to even start trying.”