The warm sun bolstered my spirits, and I was grateful the weather was on my side. In a few weeks, Reed Hollow would fall under a shroud of rolling fog.
I pulled the letter from my faux alligator handbag and reread the instructions: Meet me at Chip’s Diner. Friday at 2 PM. Time is short.
Chip’s Diner. I remembered the restaurant from childhood. My mother took me there for Sunday breakfast while our father dragged Alex out fishing.
It was a ramshackle establishment, even twenty years ago, with garish yellowing walls and a roof checkered with missing shingles.
Chips was located in the rundown outskirts of town the locals called Bog Hollow, where there was a broken down car in most every yard.
Alex informed me that things had gotten even worse in the last decade. Rumors abounded of gambling, drugs, forgery, even robbery. The police mostly left Bog Hollow alone, as long as the vice didn’t stray into the touristy parts of town.
As I made my way towards the bus stop, I wondered what I was getting in to.
In the time I’d been home, I’d rarely ventured out. I said that I was too busy sorting through documents and organizing the shop to take time for a social life, but that was an excuse. Work wasn’t what kept me indoors. It was the locals. I felt their eyes on me wherever I went, gossiping and whispering behind closed hands.
Witch, witch, you make me itch.
I ignored their curious gawks and mutters until a woman said, “Her husband disappeared, too.” I gave her a sharp look as I strolled by and her group dispersed.
I continued on, passing shop after shop, stopping only to peer through the window of The Hat Madder, before quickly moving on. A group of chattering college students blocked the sidewalk near a coffee cart and I experienced a moment of panic.
For a psychometrist, crowds can be problematic. Although I usually had to touch an object with my palm or forehead to get a solid read, a casual shoulder brush from a highly charged person might send me spiraling through someone else’s memories. The past is never lost - it’s simply put into storage, waiting for the day when someone opens the vault.
Nearing the bus stop, I spotted my brother. Alex’s face was pressed against the window of the pet shop, his fingers pattering the glass to get the attention of an Irish Setter. The puppy barked playfully, its tongue lolling and tail wagging.
I tapped him on the shoulder. “Returning to the scene of the crime, I see. Didn’t you have to register online after your release?”
Alex spun around, shoving his hands into the pockets of his skinny-jeans. “Hey, Baylee. I was just on my way to the, uh, grocery store.”
“You, sir, have a problem.”
“Some people consider what I did heroic.”
“And by some people, I’m assuming you don’t mean the pet shop owner, the nice policeman who took you in, or the judge.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “The animals all thanked me, and that’s what’s important. Well, until they were all returned to their cages, anyway.”
His thick brows settled over his sleepy eyes. “They never found Mr. B though, so that’s a win.”
“Mr. B?”
Alex produced a thin billfold and opened it to reveal a five-dollar bill, a state ID, and a coupon for a free tofu burger from Mike’s Meatless Bistro. Where most people kept pictures of their children, he had a photo of a black cat with large golden eyes.
“Mr. B,” he said. “The B stands for Bites. He was feral. Hopefully, that is helping him survive in the wild.”
“Indeed.”
I stifled a shiver as I took a closer look at the creature in the photo. His snarling mouth revealed sharp teeth and there was a savage look in his yellow eyes.
My brother looked me over, shaking his head. “Even though I don’t like where you’re going, it’s good to see you getting out of the house. And though you’re not exactly blending in with those bright red pumps, you do give the town a little color.”
I smiled at his Death Cab for Cutie t-shirt, rust-colored combat boots, and Elvis Presley hair. “Likewise.”
“I could come along…”
His words trailed off as a pinch-nosed woman in yoga pants sauntered by, smelling of pumpkin spice and carrying a cup that read The Mean Bean. She shot Alex an accusing glare, before disappearing into the pet store.
“That’s Yvette, the yoga lady,” he explained. “She’s always flirting with me. It’s pathetic.”
“Oh? She didn’t look like she was flirting with you.”
Alex flexed an arm, showing off an almond-shaped lump he hoped to pass as a muscle. “Oh, she was flirting. Trust me.”
“She looks like she could be vegan.”
“Ha! More like a vegetarian. She was wearing leather sandals, Baylee, and I’ve seen her eat a cheese stick.”
“Heaven’s no!”
“Yep.”
In Alex’s world, there were two types of people: those who cared about animals, and everyone else. I often wondered where I fell on his spectrum. I wore leather, ate hamburgers, and never broke a kitten out of a pet store. But I had been known to take in stray dogs and had once adopted a duck with a broken wing until he was able to fly again.
“You’re really going to meet this mysterious letter writer?” Alex asked, following me down the sidewalk. He paused for a quick glance into the comic book store, though he was currently at war with the manager over a return policy and could only go inside when the assistant was on duty.
“Alex, I have to. If people are in danger, and there’s anything I can do to help, I need to try.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I understand wanting to help. Hell, I went to jail for helping. But it depends on where your heart is. I wonder if you’re more interested in recreating a bit of your old life than in actually helping. You’re bored out of your mind in Reed Hollow. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way your fingers twitched when you got that letter. Admit it, you need excitement.”
My skin prickled. How dare Alex confuse my altruism for… boredom.
“I gave up ghost hunting after Ryan. I gave up everything after Ryan.”
My lower lip trembled and I forced it to stop. Though I never cried, I still felt things. Deeply.
“I know all you see is lipstick and a great wardrobe, Alex, but I assure you there is a real human being under all of this.”
I tried to storm off but Alex grabbed me by the elbow. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I broke free and crossed my arms, staring him down.
“The truth? Alright. You didn’t show a lick of interest in anything other than getting the hell out of Reed Hollow until yesterday. You hardly step out of the house and you hide from everyone. You’re not concerned about this town or the people in it. You’re only concern is returning to your life. I know Reed Hollow isn’t home to you, but it is to me.”
I felt as if Alex had plunged a fork into my heart and twisted. I couldn’t speak for several moments. I just absorbed.
“You’re right, about all of it,” I admitted. “But is it so wrong to want my old life? Even if it’s just a piece?”
“Oh, Baylee.”
His arms were around my neck before I could blink. He felt warm and safe and Alexy.
“I’m worried, that’s all. At least at home I can keep an eye on you. But now you’re about to meet up with some creep who will probably lead you to into his windowless van, and then sell you to the highest bidder. I’m not happy about this. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mean to worry you, but I really can take care of myself. I don’t need my brother watching over me like when we were kids.”
“Hell, you’re right. This is all new territory for me too, Bay. I’m nearly thirty-five years old, on probation, and living at home with my younger sister. Not exactly how I thought my life would turn out.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“What I’m saying is, this is a process for both of us. We’ll figure it out.”
I kissed his cheek and stepped back. Even though he was one of the few people I felt safe touching, it was still difficult for me to sustain physical contact with anyone. Family included.
“Maybe part of this is about me going back in time a little,” I confessed.
“You’re smart, but this isn’t your fight, Baylee. Maybe you can find a little excitement cleaning out Mom’s attic? Her hoard is mutating.”
“Ryan used to say, ‘Save one person and you save the world.’”
“Wrong! You save one person and you’re contributing to overpopulation, deforestation, full landfills, and longer lines at the DMV.”
I suppressed a laugh. My brother had recently spent an entire day at the Department of Motor Vehicles, only to be turned down for his driver’s license renewal because of unpaid fines.
We walked together, lost in our own thoughts.
“Ahhhh!!” Alex literally jumped into the air, his back bending into an arch. “Youch! My shackle went off!”
“Your shackle? Oh, your leash!”
My eyes trailed towards his ankle, where his house-arrest monitor was strapped beneath the cuff of his jeans. As part of his probation, he could leave The Aunt-Tea-Query, but his range was only a half a mile.
“You’d think they’d use a lower voltage. That seems unnecessarily cruel.”
One of Reed Hollow’s two police cars pulled up to the curb. “Enjoying your walk today, Alex?” a pudgy officer called through his open window.
“Well, you know me, Mark. I like to live dangerously.” Alex lifted one foot, dangling it over the invisible marker that separated him from freedom.
“I’m not crossing it,” he said, wiggling his foot. “But one good breeze could make us roomies again.”
Mark locked eyes with my brother. It was a stalemate. Alex breathed deeply, holding his crane pose until traffic was backed up behind the police car for nearly a block. At last, the policeman offered a stern warning before speeding off.
“I’m watching you Bonds. Violate your parole and you’ll be making plates, not serving them.”
“Har, har! Very clever! You should be a comedian, Mark!” Alex called to the disappearing taillights. Only then did he drop his leg.
“Ouch! Toe cramp! Wasn’t sure how much longer I could last.”
He leaned against a mailbox and massaged his foot. “That guy has had it in for me since he got that silly badge. Insisted my morning didgeridoo sessions in the park were a public menace.”
“He has no taste.”
“Exactly!”
Alex’s eyes traveled towards the bus stop ahead, then down to the imaginary line he wasn’t allowed to cross.
“You know I’d go with you if I could, right?”
“Of course. When I gave you that ‘World’s Best Big Brother’ trophy, it wasn’t a lie.” I had made the trophy out of tin foil and macaroni in the second grade, and it still sat on his dresser next to his badminton awards. “We are meeting in a public place. I promise I’ll call someone if I don’t feel safe.”
“Someone like me?”
“Someone exactly like you, but with more range.” I smiled up at him. “I’ve heard it said that it takes a criminal to catch a criminal. Perhaps I can hire you as a consultant.”
“You liberate twelve cats and you’re a criminal for life.”
“Thirteen, if you count Mr. B.”
“Thirteen,” he agreed. “Stay feral, Mr. B!”
“I’d better run. I don’t want to keep Mr. Anonymous waiting.”
“Mr.? How do you know?”
I pulled out the letter. “Note the faintest scent of aftershave. The writer also wrote with his left hand – you can tell by the slant of the lines. Men are statistically more likely to be left-handed than women. It’s all in the details, my dear brother. One small clue can tell you more about a person than a thousand words.”
Alex hadn’t heard a word I said.
I looked up to find him smiling at several young women draped in shopping bags. He tipped an imaginary hat as they walked by. “Ladies.”
“I can see how concerned for my well-being you truly are,” I teased, putting the letter away.
His eyes fell to the colorful peacock brooch pinned to my cashmere sweater. “Did you see there’s a new tea house that just opened up?” He pointed to the small shop across the street that used to be a Radio Shack.
“How charming!” I said, reading the name on the hand painted sign: The Little Tea Pot.
“I knew you’d say that. Stay away from that place. The old lady who works there gives me the creeps. Don’t let her Mrs. Santa Claus look fool you, there’s a touch of crazy in her eyes.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “People aren’t going to stop coming to The Aunt-Tea-Query just because of a new tea house. The Mean Bean didn’t put us out of business and neither will The Little Tea Pot. Not with your stellar customer service. We’ll be fine.”
Alex stretched his lanky arms and cracked his knuckles. “We’ve already lost a few customers. Why do you think Jake was hitting on you yesterday?”
“It’s nice to know how far down on the food chain you think I am.”
“You know me, I’m no good with words. Why do you think I’m single?”
“This new tea house is a novelty,” I assured him. “People will try it and be back at your counter before the end of the month. Just watch.”
As if called upon by fate, two of Alex’s regular customers emerged from The Little Tea Pot. They lowered their heads and rushed by.
“I see you Edna and Marjorie!” Alex called through cupped hands. “You better run. And don’t come crying back to my counter when they don’t let you have those extra Splenda packets.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Screw ‘em! That’s why I like cats. Cats are loyal.”
“Except Mr. B.”
“Except Mr. B.”
Alex sighed and said goodbye, meandering back to The Aunt-Tea-Query to relieve our Cousin Kela from her post.
I checked my watch and saw I still had fifteen minutes until my bus arrived. With a glance over my shoulder to ensure that Alex wasn’t looking, I dashed across the street and into The Little Teapot. I wasn’t cheating on our business, I reminded myself. I was investigating the competition.
“Mercy!” I said.
Stepping into The Little Tea Pot was like entering another world - one of color and surprise. It was an enchanted garden brought indoors, with ivy creeping up the walls, lush ferns arranged in ornate pots, and petite flower boxes at every window. Each table had a fresh flower in a crystal vase, and a large angel fountain bubbled near the door.
“Welcome,” said a young woman in a peasant top and ruffled bonnet. “I’ll be right with you.”
I curtsied, as it seemed fitting, then blushed for being ridiculous. I had been in tea houses before, even to a few in London, but there was something so charming about this establishment - so refreshing after my self-imposed hibernation - that I could hardly contain myself. It was beautiful. Enchanted. And…
Cakes!
An expansive glass pastry case beckoned to me, filled with assortment of pies, puddings, cakes and cookies in every size and color.
Alex’s cooking was fine, and the Reed Hollow Bakery made wonderful muffins, but nothing in town compared to the spread offered at The Little Teapot.
I strolled along the case, eyeing the goods like a child eying the Christmas display in a department store window. Banana bread. Pumpkin pie. Chocolate mousse! My stomach growled as I crossed paths with a particularly aggressive pink cupcake.
The woman in the peasant blouse finally reappeared. “Are you ordering for here or to go? Don’t worry, it’s delicious either way. Our baker once owned a shop in Manchester. She’s amazing.”
“Man-chester,” I repeated, slurring the word. I shook my head to break my daze. “I’m just peeking in, thank you.”
And that’s when I saw them, at the far-right end of the counter. An assortment of golden cru
mpets. And scones!
My resolve melted. I had to have one.
“Sample, dearie?” An apple-cheeked old woman appeared before me, carrying a tray. A set of wire spectacles balanced on her stump of a nose, and a blue bonnet capped her head of silver curls.
“I’m Ella,” the woman said, advancing with the tray. “Have a taste. Some say my pastries are magick.”
“No, thank you. I was just about to go.”
“Are you sure?” Ella tilted her head, lowering the tray to reveal a sampling worthy of royalty. “Just one little scrumptious mouthful? They’re so good.” She stretched out the last word, smacking her lips at the end.
There was something about Ella that frightened me. Perhaps it was the way she kept stepping forward, even as I retreated. Or the way her hawk-eyes bore through the frames of her glasses and into my own. To use Alex’s words, she “gave me the creeps.”
I clutched my purse and headed for the door. Ella followed with spry, determined footsteps, whispering promises of “the freshest crumpets in town.”
I had almost made it to the door when she caught one of my fingers, nearly pulling the glove from my hand. I braced myself for the accompanying shock… but her touch brought nothing, and I was inexplicably relieved.
“I have to go,” I said, attempting to pull my hand away without losing my glove.
Her grip was surprisingly strong, and she moved her hand up to my wrist, locking me in place. “I know who you are,” she hissed. “We will put your mother’s shop out of business. Vivi’s legacy will not stand. Mark my words.”
She parted her lips, revealing full white teeth. I yanked hard and found myself stumbling through the door, and crashing towards the sidewalk.
I reached out to brace for the fall.
I didn’t hit the sidewalk. Instead, I was caught by a pair of strong masculine hands.
Without needing to look, I knew those hands. I knew their owner.
I found my mind careening towards the far distant past – a past shared with a boy I’d once promised to marry. And to the heart I’d once broken with the return of a ring, sent in an envelope simply marked, “I’m sorry.”
Touch of Light: A Baylee Scott Paranormal Mystery (The Reed Hollow Chronicles Book 1) Page 4