Wild & Hexy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  She had to handle this flower situation quickly because she was due at the Loudermilks’ house at ten. She couldn’t imagine what was going on with the wedding bouquets, but Gwen had sounded frantic. She’d stammered something about odd-shaped growths on the roses, and yet they’d looked fine earlier in the week. They were in a greenhouse, so that ruled out weather issues and bugs.

  Annie’s mom had asked her to handle this crisis because Melody was embroiled in a fight with Bruce over the rehearsal dinner. The Millers, aka Bruce’s parents, didn’t want to pay for wine to be brought over to the Hob Knob from the Big Knobian Tavern, and Melody was insisting on serving wine. Bruce had offered to pay for it, but Melody wouldn’t let him because she thought the wine issue was a sign that his parents didn’t really support this marriage.

  In other words, typical day-before-the-wedding drama. Annie remembered having a huge fight with Zach over whether she’d wear his mother’s pearls with her wedding dress. His mother had been reluctant, but Zach had pushed the issue. Annie had worn them against her better judgment, and of course the string had broken halfway through the ceremony, scattering pearls everywhere. She should have taken it as a sign.

  By some miracle she hadn’t run into any of Zach’s relatives so far this visit. Then again, she hadn’t spent much time in the shops on the square, which is where most people met. She hadn’t yet eaten a meal at the Hob Knob or browsed through the Big Knob Bookstore. Tomorrow morning the female members of the wedding party would gather at the Bob and Weave for the hair and nail appointment, and Annie would get all the town gossip then.

  Chances were excellent that she and Jeremy were one of the hot topics of conversation. She dreaded the questions that were bound to come her way, but she’d stirred up the gossip, so she couldn’t complain about it. Less than three days to go. She planned to stay until dusk on Sunday and hope to hell she got a decent picture of the lake monster. Then she’d blow this popcorn stand.

  She parked her car in front of the flower shop, which was located on the corner of Fourth and First. As she got out, she glanced across First and noticed Maggie Madigan headed into Doc Pritchard’s office. If she remembered correctly, everyone expected Maggie to get pregnant any day now. Maybe she had and was going for her first checkup.

  Annie felt an unexpected pang of regret. The idea of having kids had been pushed way to the back of her mind. Zach hadn’t wanted a pet, let alone a kid, and Annie had been content to focus on her TV career.

  Now that she’d ruled out marriage for the time being, kids were really a long way off. Most likely Melody would present their mother with the first grandchild. That should make Melody happy, to finally get the jump on Annie in something.

  A bell rang over the door when Annie opened it, and Gwen hurried in from the side door that led to the greenhouse.

  Gwen looked frazzled. ‘‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’’ she said. ‘‘Every single white rose is affected.’’

  ‘‘Affected how?’’

  ‘‘You’ll have to come and see.’’ Gwen pushed open the door into the greenhouse and led the way down the aisle, which was lined with every kind of flower imaginable.

  Besides being a riot of color, the greenhouse was warm and moist. No wonder Gwen’s complexion always looked so good. She spent her days in a sauna. Annie breathed in the mixture of sweet floral scent and damp potting soil. She could understand the appeal of this job.

  ‘‘Look at this.’’ Gwen stopped in front of the white roses that Melody had chosen for her bouquet.

  Annie glanced at the roses and gasped. ‘‘What part is that called? I learned it in biology, but I—’’

  ‘‘Those are the stamens, the male part of the flower.’’

  ‘‘They certainly are . . . male.’’ Annie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Three-inch, penis-shaped stamens poked boldly out of every rose. ‘‘Is it a mutation?’’

  ‘‘I have no idea. I came out here this morning to water and there they were, flashing me. If we were going with, say, orchids, it might not be so obvious, but usually you don’t even see the stamens on roses until the buds are fully opened. These are still semi-closed and—’’

  ‘‘Erect.’’

  Gwen nodded. ‘‘Yeeesss.’’

  ‘‘How about going the Lorena Bobbitt route?’’

  ‘‘Tried that.’’ Gwen held up a wilted rose. ‘‘This happens. I’m glad you’re here instead of Melody. She’d flip.’’

  ‘‘Yes, she would.’’ Annie felt a giggle coming on, and she swallowed it. ‘‘I guess you’ll have to substitute a different color.’’

  ‘‘She was very specific about white.’’

  Annie glanced at her. ‘‘Yes, I know, but you can’t have her walking down the aisle with those things’’— she paused to clear her throat—‘‘waving in the breeze.’’

  ‘‘Probably not.’’ Gwen stared at Annie and her face grew pink. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth as a snort of laughter escaped.

  That was all it took. Annie lost it, too, and they both cackled like fiends, alternately holding their stomachs and pointing at the offending flowers.

  ‘‘I would give anything to see that,’’ Annie said. ‘‘Can you imagine? Everyone stands up and turns around as the bridesmaids come in, and then they look at the bouquets and see . . .’’ She dissolved into laughter again.

  ‘‘The Full Monty!’’ Gwen wiped the tears streaming down her face. Then she held up her hand. ‘‘Shh. I think I just heard the shop bell.’’

  ‘‘Hello!’’ called a woman from the shop. ‘‘Anybody here?’’

  ‘‘I’ll be right out,’’ Gwen called back. She took a tissue out of her apron pocket and blew her nose. ‘‘I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. But I still have a small problem, here.’’

  ‘‘A three-inch problem.’’

  ‘‘Stop it.’’ Gwen grinned, and then she hiccuped. ‘‘I have a customer to deal with. I’ll be right back.’’

  ‘‘I’ll wait here. And think of solutions.’’ Once Gwen left, Annie reached out to touch one of the stamens, and damned if it didn’t seem to enlarge. She touched another one, and the same thing happened. What in hell was going on?

  She heard Gwen in the shop explaining to the customer that she had no white roses available. How weird that someone would come in this morning and ask for them. Annie thought she recognized the voice, but she couldn’t remember from where.

  ‘‘Let me at least look at them,’’ the woman said, and Isabel walked through the greenhouse door. Today she wore a long purple skirt slit up to midthigh and a low-necked white peasant blouse. ‘‘Oh, hello, Annie. I didn’t realize you were here.’’

  Gwen followed close behind Isabel. ‘‘Annie’s helping me figure out what to do about the white ones, which we’d planned to use for the wedding bouquets tomorrow.’’ She avoided looking at Annie. ‘‘I could fix you a nice arrangement of yellow, or perhaps pink.’’

  ‘‘I prefer white. I—oh, my.’’ Isabel’s eyes widened. ‘‘How in the world did you accomplish that?’’

  ‘‘I didn’t,’’ Gwen said. ‘‘It happened overnight.’’

  ‘‘Indeed.’’ Isabel moved closer. ‘‘I like it.’’

  Annie and Gwen exchanged a glance and looked quickly away again.

  Isabel reached out toward one of the roses and Annie caught her wrist. ‘‘You might not want to do that.’’

  ‘‘Why not?’’

  ‘‘It makes them get bigger.’’

  Gwen gasped. ‘‘Bigger?’’

  ‘‘Watch.’’ Annie let go of Isabel and touched one of the stamens. It quivered and enlarged.

  Behind her glasses, Gwen’s eyes looked enormous. ‘‘Oh . . . my . . . God.’’

  ‘‘This is my kind of flower!’’ Isabel stroked a stamen and laughed. ‘‘Give me two dozen.’’

  ‘‘I’d rather not sell them,’’ Gwen said.

  ‘‘Not sell them? Are you insane? Figure out how y
ou did this and you could make a fortune.’’

  ‘‘That’s just it. I don’t know what happened, and there could be some kind of plant weirdness going on.’’

  Isabel shook her head. ‘‘You need to loosen up, girl. I sense some sexual repression going on.’’

  ‘‘This has nothing to do with sex.’’ Gwen sent a pleading glance in Annie’s direction. ‘‘Whatever it is, I need to keep it contained in this greenhouse.’’

  ‘‘She’s right,’’ Annie said. ‘‘If she lets these go out the door, she could have the Department of Agriculture breathing down her neck. She’s a small business owner. She doesn’t need that kind of grief.’’

  ‘‘Oh, all right.’’ Isabel glanced around the greenhouse. ‘‘Let me have some of those yellow ones, then. Just a dozen in whatever cheap vase you can find.’’

  ‘‘All right. You might be more comfortable waiting in the shop.’’

  ‘‘I’m sure I would. And Annie will come keep me company, won’t you, Annie?’’

  ‘‘Uh, sure.’’ Annie was willing to make conversation if it kept Gwen’s customer happy.

  Leaving Gwen to gather what she needed for the arrangement, Annie and Isabel walked back into the shop. Isabel took a seat on one of the stools beside the counter where Gwen kept all the catalogs. Annie decided to stand.

  ‘‘You’re a reporter, aren’t you?’’ Isabel said.

  ‘‘That’s right.’’

  ‘‘Then I assume you might be interested in something I saw out at the lake a couple of nights ago.’’

  Annie’s heart rate picked up. ‘‘Like what?’’

  ‘‘A large amphibious sort of creature, bigger than an elephant, with a long neck and a triangular head.’’

  Annie longed to have Jeremy here, but then again, he probably wouldn’t believe Isabel, either. ‘‘Yes, I would be interested.’’ She did her best to not show how much.

  ‘‘You’ve seen it, too, haven’t you?’’

  Annie decided there was no point in pretending ignorance. ‘‘Yes. Twice.’’

  ‘‘What do you plan to do about it?’’

  ‘‘Ideally I’d like to get the story without ruining the town or jeopardizing the safety of the creature.’’

  Isabel nodded. ‘‘That’s a tall order, chicky. You want fame for yourself but you want to keep things low-key for Big Knob and the Nessy. I don’t know if that’s possible. Something’s got to give.’’

  Annie thought so, too. She’d spent part of her sleepless night trying to work out a solution. But until she had a picture that confirmed the existence of this thing, no solution was necessary.

  Knowing that Isabel had seen the creature brought up a new possibility, though. ‘‘Is that why you made the trip from San Francisco? Did you come here to see whatever is living in the lake?’’

  ‘‘In a way.’’

  Annie looked more closely at her. Maybe it was the long skirt and the peasant blouse, but suddenly she knew who Isabel looked like. ‘‘You probably haven’t noticed, but you look a lot like the bronze statue we have on the square.’’

  ‘‘Funny, isn’t it?’’ Isabel met her gaze. ‘‘And it’s not a square. It’s a pentagon.’’

  ‘‘Everyone knows that, but you can’t hold a Fourth of July picnic on the town pentagon.’’

  ‘‘I suppose not.’’

  Then Annie realized something else. The symbol for Wicca was a five-pointed star with a circle around it. Big Knob was laid out that way, but there was no circle. Or was there? She remembered the walking path that linked each point of the star.

  Nothing fit together yet, but she had a feeling it would if she could only put some time into research. Unfortunately, she had another story to file for the Trib and wedding activities that would suck every spare minute. But she was here now with Isabel, and she might as well take advantage of the moment.

  ‘‘What do you know about Wicca?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘A few things.’’ Isabel turned to a catalog and began flipping pages.

  ‘‘I’ve figured out that Ambrose and Dorcas are Wiccan.’’

  ‘‘Bully for you.’’ Isabel kept her attention on the catalog.

  ‘‘I’m betting you are, too.’’

  ‘‘Maybe.’’

  Excitement churned in Annie’s stomach. She was on to something. ‘‘Somehow the lake monster ties into all this, but I haven’t figured out how.’’

  Isabel looked up. ‘‘You’re the reporter. You figure it out.’’ Then she slid off the stool and walked out of the shop.

  Moments later Gwen hurried in, a vase of yellow roses in her hand. ‘‘Where’d she go?’’

  ‘‘She left.’’ Annie took the vase from Gwen. ‘‘Let me buy these. My mother needs a lift.’’

  ‘‘Annie, you don’t have to do this. It won’t be the first time somebody stiffed me.’’

  ‘‘I want the flowers, okay? And as for the problem with the white roses, I say use your palest pink and she won’t even notice the difference. If she does, tell her it’s the light.’’

  Gwen nodded. ‘‘That’s what I’ll do, assuming the white roses still look the same tomorrow as they do today.’’

  ‘‘Why wouldn’t they?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know, but they got that way overnight. Maybe they’ll go back to normal overnight, too.’’ She glanced at the front door Isabel had recently gone through. ‘‘What do you make of her?’’

  ‘‘Honestly? I think she’s a witch.’’

  ‘‘Hey, she’s not that bad. She’s actually kind of funny."

  ‘‘I’m not saying she’s not a nice person. I’m saying she’s Wiccan.’’

  ‘‘Wiccan?’’ Gwen scrunched up her face. ‘‘Is there really such a thing?’’

  ‘‘Oh, yeah.’’ Annie was becoming more convinced with every hour that went by.

  ‘‘I can’t believe Wiccans would be in Big Knob.’’

  Annie decided not to mention her theory about the five-pointed star with the walking path around it. ‘‘Well, they are,’’ she said. ‘‘And I’m beginning to think they’ve been here a while.’’

  Jeremy thought he was functioning pretty well on no sleep. He’d managed to keep everything running smoothly at Click-or-Treat plus run interference on several wedding issues. He’d stepped in and offered to pay for the wine that was becoming such a bone of contention for the rehearsal dinner. That allowed Bruce to tell Melody that it was taken care of and Bruce wasn’t paying for it.

  Then he’d straightened out a misunderstanding with the Evansville DJ who’d been hired for the reception. The DJ had somehow come to the conclusion that he should play all Hawaiian tunes during the reception. Jeremy had recommended Top 40, some eighties classics and a few fifties numbers. The DJ could throw in an occasional Hawaiian tune if he felt the need.

  Big Knobians would respond to ‘‘The Hawaiian Wedding Song’’ and ‘‘Blue Hawaii,’’ but that was about it. Hawaii was like a foreign country to them, and they would want the tunes they heard on the radio, tunes they knew how to dance to.

  Jeremy was damned proud of himself for functioning so well, considering he’d tossed and turned all night. But then he’d faced his biggest challenge of the day. Annie came in to write her story about Clem Loudermilk and his famous bras.

  She gave him a tentative smile as she walked in the door. He smiled back as if his heart wasn’t in shreds and his ego hadn’t been reduced to the size of a termite. He might be left with nothing else, but by God, he’d hold on to his pride.

  ‘‘How’d the interview with Clem go?’’ He was proud of his casual tone, which struck exactly the right note, as if they were old friends, not lovers who’d just broken up.

  ‘‘Very well. I have a picture of his first working model of the bra.’’

  ‘‘Is that the one he strapped on a life-sized statue of Venus de Milo?’’

  ‘‘That’s it.’’ She shifted her purse to her other shoulder. ‘‘Have you seen it?
’’

  ‘‘No, not many people have. Sean built them a sunroom earlier this year, so he told me about it. He says there’s this marble reproduction of Venus in the corner of the living room, and she’s wearing a bra.’’

  ‘‘Yep. That statue wearing the bra is the focal point of the living room. The statue’s in this dark nook and he’s trained a couple of black lights on it so the bra seems to glow.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, Sean mentioned that.’’ Jeremy became aware that this wasn’t the greatest topic in the world. Thinking about bras made him think about Annie’s underwear, something he’d never have the pleasure of removing again.

  ‘‘I guess if you make several million dollars on something, you want a way to display it.’’

  ‘‘I suppose so.’’ Money wasn’t a good subject, either. It made him remember Dorcas and Ambrose, who were no doubt imagining how they’d spend all the tourist dollars they were about to earn.

  She gazed at him as if she could read his mind, and maybe she could. He’d never been good at being inscrutable. Everything he thought showed on his face.

  ‘‘I need to get busy,’’ she said. ‘‘After this I’m making the place cards for the reception, and I have to get them done before the rehearsal this afternoon.’’

  ‘‘How’s Melody?’’

  ‘‘A pain in the butt. How’s Bruce?’’

  ‘‘Bruce is getting nervous, like most guys do the day before they get married.’’ But Jeremy knew that if he had the chance to marry Annie, he wouldn’t be nervous. He would be too busy dealing with extreme happiness to be nervous.

  ‘‘It’ll be good to get this over with.’’

  ‘‘Yeah.’’ He said that because it was expected of him, but he didn’t really think so. Once the wedding was over, he’d have no more reason to hang around with Annie. Much as it hurt to do that, he’d rather hurt than not see her at all.

  ‘‘I’ll take the terminal over there, the one beside your dog.’’

  ‘‘That’s fine. Want some coffee?’’ He’d been living on the stuff, so she might be in the same condition.

  ‘‘That would be great.’’ She walked over, stepped around Meg and sat down.