A Spot of Bother

by Magenta Wilde

  “Does she say things like that often?”

  “No, but when she does I’ve found it’s good to take notice.”

  “What other things has she said?”

  Roger smiled, darting his gaze over to me for a second before looking forward again. “She always gave me odd things as a child. She would always give me something like two pale gray marbles or some smooth polished stones for my birthday or Christmas. Mind you, it wasn’t the only thing she gave me, but there was always something unusual in her choices that seemed significant, even if I didn’t understand it.”

  “Why the marbles and stones?” I asked. “And why two?”

  “I wondered that for years. She’d give them to me and say to look, or to look out. Nothing more. I’d just put them in a bowl in a drawer and forget about them, but I never threw them away. Somehow it seemed wrong to. Finally not long after I met you, I opened the drawer and spied the marbles and stones there, and I realized they were the exact same color as your eyes.”

  I was impressed. I wasn’t sure if it was some kind of amazing story of psychic ability I was hearing, or if it was some romantic yarn, but I liked it nonetheless. “So you think she knew something?”

  “I do. She also would give me other items. Red cardinal feathers. I’d ask why and sometimes she’d say cardinals mate for life. Other times she’d say the color was mine.” He reached over and touched a loose tendril of my bright-red hair. “I think she saw you before I did. Or she saw enough of you to try and let me know. When I first spied you at your shop that day a couple months ago, that was the first thing I thought of: that color red and how she’d said it was mine.”

  “That’s kind of sweet,” I said. “It almost sounds like bull, but she does have this certainty to her.”

  “Yes, she most definitely does. So, when you were talking to her, and looked over at me and our eyes locked, you got this strange look on your face. It seemed significant. Did you see something?”

  “No, I didn’t see anything.”

  Roger darted his gaze to me for a second. “Come on. I saw something there. Was Ivy’s ghost around? Was there another ghost around?”

  “No. I didn’t see any ghosts. I just saw you there and was having a good time and felt happy and comfortable around you and your family. I’d been a bit nervous beforehand, but the day turned out better than I ever could have hoped for or imagined.”

  Roger reached out and squeezed my hand. “I’m glad to hear that. Are you sure that’s all there was to it?”

  “Boy, you are very probing this evening, aren’t you?” I teased.

  “Oh, you have no idea how probing I’m going to get with you this evening. But I thought there was something more.”

  “Maybe I’ll cave under this probing you’re talking about. Orgasms might loosen my lips, too,” I smiled. “As for that something more, you don’t need to worry. I was only thinking very happy thoughts. That’s all I’ll own up to for now.”

  “At least until I get to probing you, huh?”

  17

  We arrived at Mom and Tom’s to find them, along with Jordan and Ash, seated around the dining table. Tom was nibbling on cookies and Ash was gnawing on a turkey wing. All four were focused on a game of poker.

  Mom looked up at me as we hung up our coats. “Was it a good visit?” she asked.

  “Yes, it went very well,” I agreed. “Wouldn’t you say so, Roger?”

  “Most definitely,” he smiled as he held out a chair for me.

  “Roger,” Mom began, “we still have some of the pie that Poppy made in advance, including that pumpkin chiffon number you adore.”

  Roger patted his stomach. “I was thinking two minutes ago that I was stuffed, but at the mention of Poppy’s pie, I’m famished.”

  Jordan smirked at the turn of phrase and I gave him a swift poke to the side. “Watch where your mind wanders,” I hissed.

  “Is he going to fill your shell later?” Mom teased.

  “Or he’ll sprinkle it with some of his own cream topping?” Jordan asked.

  I shook my head and groaned. “You two are like peas in a pod.”

  Jordan shrugged. “Come on, he walked right into that one with the talk of loving your pie.”

  “He most certainly did,” Ash agreed.

  “I admit I did, and I’m not ashamed in the least,” Roger said as he placed a slice in front of me. “Enjoy your hard work, Poppy.” He pulled up a chair and sat down in a space across from me as he shoveled a huge forkful into his mouth. “Mmmm, this is sublime.”

  I caught Mom giving me a curious once-over and mouthed a “what?” in her direction. She leaned in close, peering into my eyes before nodding. “Yes,” she said, her voice low. “Someone’s in love.”

  I balked. “What?” I turned to look at Roger, but he was distracted by Tom asking what we’d had for dessert at his family’s house.

  “I know what I see,” Mom said.

  “It’s pretty obvious,” Jordan nodded, his voice also low. “And don’t worry. He feels the same.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, as if he was relaying old news. “He’s felt the same almost from the start. He was pretty ga-ga for you when I first met him.”

  I opened my mouth to say something but was interrupted.

  “Poppy!” Tom cried out. “You brought over a pecan pie for Art?” His eyes were wide and bright. “I love pecan pie.”

  “Tom, you love anything that has sugar as one of the top three ingredients,” Mom warned. “Plus she’d brought over the pumpkin chiffon pies, an apple-walnut loaf, and those maple scones. You’re not exactly deprived there.”

  “But I love pecan pie,” he persisted. “At least tell me it was awful.”

  “Sorry, Tom, but it was fantastic. My dad loved it, too,” Roger said. “He said it was so good that if Poppy wanted to open a bakery, he’d be first in line as an investor.”

  “He didn’t really say that,” I said.

  “Oh yes he did. If he starts demanding we come over for a weekly dinner, I place the blame squarely in your lap.” He capped off the statement with a good-natured wink.

  Tom just looked sulkier, if that was possible. “He’d better not. I love all the cakes and cookies that Poppy brings over our way.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make you a pecan pie of your very own before Christmas, if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “That would be a fine gesture,” Tom nodded, a little sparkle back in his eyes.

  18

  The day after Thanksgiving dawned beautiful and bright. It had warmed some, but it was still quite nippy, and the sun melted the walkways and foot traffic was brisk as a result.

  I was counting on some good sales for my own Black Friday event.

  I had both Vanessa and Jordan helping in the shop, as well as with online orders whenever business slowed down. My attention was needed for a number of readings, too, so the help was doubly welcome.

  Shortly after noon Marie walked into my store with Mitten waddling along in tow.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” I smiled. I introduced them to Vanessa and Jordan.

  Mitten squinted her eyes and looked both employees up and down. She gave a curt nod to the shapely blonde. “You must get a lot of male attention, young lady.”

  Vanessa gave a careless shrug. “Sometimes, yes.”

  “Ah, she’s not arrogant about her looks. That’s refreshing,” Mitten rasped.

  “Vanessa’s got a good head on her shoulders,” I said. “Mom was the one who found her, and she’s been a marvelous fit.”

  Vanessa beamed at the praise. “Thanks, boss. You’re going to make me blush.”

  “No you won’t,” Mitten said. “You know your worth.” Vanessa seemed poised to shrug off the compliment, but Mitten held her hand up to still her. “I’m not saying that as a bad thing. Women second-guess themselves or apologize for this, that or the other left and right. Know what you bring to the table and own it, my dear.”

  She then looked at J
ordan and tilted her head to the side as she scrutinized him. “Interesting.”

  “Excuse me?” the teen replied.

  “You’ve got an interesting energy. You’ve got some magic to you. I’m trying to figure out exactly what it might be. Give me your hand.”

  He placed his palm in hers and she squeezed and thumbed it like it was clay. “Mmmmm, yes. You’re a good fit for this place, aren’t you?” She looked around my store and tottered over to the holiday display Jordan had set up, touching the greens. “Yes, you know where things should go.” She turned to me. “I bet he knew where everything was stored, just about, and can make something out of nothing.”

  I nodded. “He’s got an artistic streak, I guess you could call it.”

  “I bet he does. I also wouldn’t want to play cards with this kid,” Mitten laughed. “I bet you know when your hand is the best hand you’ve been dealt or if something else would improve your odds.”

  “Is that why you always do so well at poker?” Vanessa asked, her eyes large.

  “Um … .” Jordan looked caught. “I don’t know what card is next, but I usually have a feeling that it might be a good idea to hold or fold.”

  “Uh-huh,” Vanessa said. “I’m glad we only play for quarters.”

  Marie in the meantime was looking around my store. She had plucked a few candles to purchase, and was hovering over some of Jordan’s creations. “These are darling,” she said. “Where did you find this artist? I’ve never seen anything like these displays.”

  I pointed at Jordan. “You’re looking at him right there. Mitten is right; he did the displays and he has made a lot of the holiday decorations that are for sale. Jordan’s really talented. He and Vanessa have been working together on making a lot of the more decorative items so I can focus more on soaps and candles.”

  Jordan smiled at the praise. So did Vanessa. I knew he loved making the items, and Vanessa enjoyed flexing her creative muscles.

  “And who made these cute bags,” Marie asked, fingering a small velvet purse with elaborate embroidery.

  “That’s Vanessa’s,” I said. “She did a really great job with her Halloween costume and showed me some things she sewed at home, so I’ve put a few bags she made on the shelves.”

  Mitten approached and fingered the fabric. “Very well made. This girl’s got a bit of magic to her, too.”

  “I’m not a witch like Poppy is,” Vanessa said.

  “Every woman is a bit of a witch,” Mitten said. “Some are stronger than others. Poppy, and I’m guessing her mother, are stronger than you. Jordan here, even though he’s a man, he’s got a good bit of magical juice in his veins, too. But you’re no slouch either.” She shut her eyes and held the small purse in her palm, as if she was weighing it. “Yes, there’s magic there, most definitely.”

  Vanessa looked a bit surprised at the assessment but she also looked pleased.

  I was about to open my mouth to utter something more but my mother made her way inside my store. She stopped when she saw Marie, and gave a once-over to Mitten in her flannel coat and faded blue sweatshirt underneath.

  “Marie!” Mom replied, her tone a bit too sweet and breathy for my liking. “So good to see you!”

  The women clasped hands and Marie introduced Mitten to Mom.

  “So you’re the glittering witch I’ve heard all about,” Mitten barked. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I should hope so,” Mom said. “And you’re whose aunt again?”

  “Mitten is Art’s great aunt, but everyone just calls her Aunt Mitten … .”

  “Or the greatest aunt,” Mitten cut in.

  “Is this the woman you were hoping would take a look at the items you found in that safe?” Mom said.

  I nodded. “I was just about to go and fetch that stuff, actually.”

  “In that case, why don’t you come over to my place for a cup of coffee, Marie? We can chat a bit and Poppy can have your aunt do her magical detection or whatever she does.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Marie said.

  A moment later they were gone.

  “I kind of want to be a fly on the wall for that talk,” Vanessa muttered.

  “Yes, it would be interesting,” Mitten agreed, turning to me. “Imagine your mother — and I can see she’s a willful one — talking to your future mother-in-law.”

  “Wait? What!” Vanessa and Jordan whipped their heads in my direction.

  “Did Roger propose?” Vanessa asked.

  “Yeah, did he?” Jordan bounded over and picked up my left hand. “I don’t see a ring.”

  “Was it an impulse thing?” Vanessa asked.

  “I mean, we knew it was coming,” Jordan said, “but I didn’t think it was going to happen this soon.”

  “Was it romantic?” Vanessa cut in. “Did he go down on one knee?”

  I shook my head and raised my hands. “Roger did not propose. But everybody seems to be referring to Marie as my future mother-in-law. For the moment, though, Roger and I are just boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” Vanessa pursed her lips. “Why did you say that?” She turned to Mitten. “You got me all worked up.”

  Mitten shrugged. “I’m just calling it as I see it. Now, get those items you found. And also bring some candles and a shallow bowl of water, if you still want to learn about reading wax.”

  A few moments later Mitten and I were settled at the small fortune-telling table I had set up in the back corner of my shop. It was shrouded in sheer sparkly and velvet curtains, for both atmosphere and privacy.

  “What do you want to do first,” I asked Mitten as I poured her a cup of tea. She topped hers off with bourbon and jammed the flask back in her pocket.

  “None for me?” I teased.

  “If you wanted it, I would have poured some into your tea, but I’m certain that you don’t doctor your tea with anything stronger than lemon and honey.”

  She was right about that. I wasn’t sure how she knew that, but then again, I wasn’t always sure how I knew things either. They were simply known. That was all there was to it sometimes.

  “The items, please,” she said, her tone simple and direct. I had them in a small box that was set on a small third stool. She stopped me when I reached into the box to remove them. “No. Let me see what I land on first.”

  I pulled back and she reached in, coming up with a red feather.

  She eyed it and caressed it between her thumb and forefinger. “Cardinal feather. They mate for life, you know… .”

  I nodded. Roger had told me that.

  She continued. “Notice this darkening along the tip … that’s not from the bird, but because the story didn’t go as someone wished.”

  “What? Kind of a magical tarnishing, you mean?”

  She nodded, set the feather aside and reached back into the box. Next she pulled out the locket, and pried it open, eyeing the small photos inside. The feather hopped up, as if jostled by a breeze, before fluttering back down over the candle and smoldering as it was singed by the flame. I caught it and blew it out before it could burn entirely. Besides a burnt feather smell in the air, I also picked up something else. Sharp. Keen. Dissatisfaction. I grimaced as the stink enveloped us.

  “Someone isn’t happy,” Mitten remarked, sniffing the blackened edge of the plume.

  “What do you make of it?” I asked.

  “I think the feather was meant to indicate mating for life, but the symbol got singed, meaning what it represents didn’t come to pass. Whether it’s singed as a result of the failed union or if it was burned to disrupt the union, I can’t tell. The magic connected to it is murky.”

  Mitten set the plume aside and returned to the locket, hovering her fingers over the man and woman’s likenesses inside before gently pulling photos out and weighing the images in the palm of her hand. “A strong love, yes. That the one photo is cut in two, it makes me think some angry magic was at play.” She set the photos aside and looked in the locket, tumbling t
he small blue flower petals into her hand. “Forget-me-nots.”

  “A token of love, or a message?” I asked.

  “Both.” She returned the petals to the locket and replaced the photos, snapping the clasp shut before setting it next to the feather.

  Next she pulled out the nail.

  “A coffin nail,” she muttered.

  “Is that a curse, you think?” I asked.

  “Maybe. It could be a reminder or a warning. You mean business when you nail something. And it being a coffin nail, it’s a reminder that this business will outlast a lifetime. Which can be a curse of sorts.”

  “Sounds like it to me,” I said.

  Next she pulled out a rosary. A simple one made of a reddish-brown wood. She held it to her nose and took a deep inhale. “Rosewood. I think this belonged to a male, and was given to the female.” I held my hand out and she placed it in my palm. I inhaled and picked up a spicy, aromatic scent. The energy was definitely male.

  “I think it was given as a promise,” I said.

  “Could be. A solemn vow, I am thinking.”

  She reached back into the box and pulled out an envelope and peered inside before tilting it upside down. Instead of paper, a large pair of orange and black butterfly wings drifted out, briefly touching before fluttering apart, as if disturbed by a puff of air.

  Mitten looked at the delicate items for a moment and went on with her perusal. She drew out the drawing I’d seen earlier, looking it over and then tracing her fingers over the intricate cross-hatching. “This kid had some artistic talent. It’s not just a likeness, but he’s captured something other. The girl’s eyes look alive in the drawing.” She closed her eyes and focused. “A lot of lust here. And love. And longing.”

  “My mother sensed an unhappy ending.”

  “Most definitely. No one was happy with this outcome. But there was a whole lot of hoping and praying that it would work out.”

  Mitten continued to go through the items one by one, reading through a few of the letters as well.

  Last of all she extracted the aquamarine-blue jar. Inside was some leafy matter, soil and a few small pebbles. She struggled to open it, then muttered something under her breath that sounded like an incantation. She waited a moment and unsnapped the lid, swirling the jar around like she was helping to release the aromas from a glass of wine. Then she set the container down and hovered her hand over it.