A Spot of Bother

by Magenta Wilde

  “Concentrate,” I saw Catrina mouth to me, and toward Mom and Jordan. We all gave subtle nods as she sang the song. I imagined her voice traveling across time, like a fishing line, the melody drawing an admirer near.

  She continued to warble, giving herself to the melody.

  Then I felt something spark in the room and a male voice, strong and clear, sang another verse:

  I still would be your shelter

  Through rain and through storm

  And with you in your cold grave

  I cannot sleep warm

  Livvy paused, startled by the new arrival shimmering into view, a man clad in clothing from at least a couple hundred years past. He continued the song, and she, a look of astonishment on her pale features, started up again. The duo sang in perfect harmony the last verse:

  My apple tree my brightness

  It's time we were together

  For I smell of the earth

  And am worn by the weather

  When they finished, they stared at one another in amazement, The man reached out toward Livvy and she rested her hand in his palm. She looked entranced.

  “I’m Colin,” he uttered in a thick Irish brogue. “Your voice, it’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing.”

  “I’m Livvy,” she gasped. “Thank you.”

  The pair stared into one another’s eyes for several moments and then looked around the room at us, as if seeing us for the first time.

  “What say you, Livvy?” Catrina asked, her expression smug.

  Livvy opened and closed her mouth a few times, and suddenly the pressure in the room shifted. “I … I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say, ‘I do’,” Catrina said.

  “Aye, please say ‘I do’,” Colin pleaded.

  Livvy took a long, shuddering inhale, her eyes bright and pinned on Colin. “I, I do.”

  “Aye, I do as well,” he nodded. A soft warmth spread through the room, enveloping the newly minted pair in a rosy aura. A second later they winked out of sight.

  “That’s it?” Mom asked. “That was easy. I didn’t even get to torment the little snot.”

  “You’ll soon find someone new to torture, my little cactus flower,” Tom assured.

  “This went easier in some ways because there were four of us supplying the power. That was a tremendous help,” Catrina said.

  “Are we … Are we free now?” Ernest asked, looking toward Cora. She in turn reached across the table toward him, and he did the same. Their fingers touched and they stepped through the table toward one another and embraced.

  “I cannot tell you how long I’ve ached to hold you in my arms like this,” Ernest muttered into her hair as he rocked her back and forth.

  “Neither can I,” Cora sobbed into his shoulder.

  “We can be together now?” Ernest asked, looking at each of us in turn.

  “I see no obstacle,” Catrina said.

  “I can never repay you enough,” Ernest said.

  “Neither can I,” Cora agreed. “But we owe you the world.”

  “If you happen to know where any hidden treasure might be, I’d be all ears,” Catrina replied.

  “Well, in that hidden room where you found our things …,” Cora began.

  After Cora told us about some hidden valuables, the reunited lovers shimmered out of view.

  We all sat together in stunned silence, which was suddenly broken when Mom gave my arm a sharp smack. “I still can’t believe Poppy could have been questioning ghosts all this time about where they might have hidden money or stashed some jewelry!”

  “Ouch! I’m not some kind of afterlife treasure detector!” I snapped.

  I turned to Roger, feeling pouty. “Did you see that? My mother struck her only child!”

  Roger drew near and raised my arm, pressing a kiss on the tender spot. “I’ll minister to you later.”

  I smiled, looking forward to the attention.

  Epilogue

  The Redmond Keep was making another go of it on the night of the Happy Holidaze festival right before Christmas.

  Ash, seeing the problem had been resolved, ordered a crew to come in and fix the fire and water damage, and on his own dime.

  Scott and Amber prepared the brewpub for its first soft opening since Livvy and Colin had been paired up and Cora and Ernest had reunited. The forget-me-not blue they’d initially wanted no longer distorted or warped. All things considered, it seemed a nice tribute to their enduring love in some small, subtle way. No more plumbing problems popped up. The cold gusts and unexplained smells stopped. Lights quit flickering. Everything was downright ordinary.

  I had made a quick trip to wish them well before returning to my shop where Vanessa and Jordan were selling gifts to holiday shoppers.

  I was sharing some finger foods with Roger when a hand squeezed my shoulder. I turned, expecting it to be Lester Kavanaugh, who I had spotted in the crowd earlier. His promise for vital information on the Chapman building turned out to be unnecessary, as did any further contact with him, something for which I was grateful.

  It wasn’t Lester, however. There, her maroon-red hair piled high and adorned with a big sprig of holly, was Zelda Malone.

  “Hello, Poppy. Hello, Roger,” she beamed before turning toward Scott and Amber and warmly shaking their hands. “Congratulations on a successful second opening. And this one looks like it’s only going to be the talk of the town based on how good the food and the beer is.”

  “And we couldn’t be happier about that,” Scott smiled.

  “You and me both,” Amber agreed. “All those problems were getting expensive.”

  “Yes, fireballs raining down from the ceiling are never a good thing,” Zelda agreed. “Still, you haven’t noticed any little oddball occurrences that would indicate the place is still haunted? It would make a nice stop on my haunted sights tours.”

  “We haven’t had a lick of drama since the night of the fireball calamity,” Amber replied.

  “Too bad there isn’t a wee bit of ghostly activity still lurking. I don’t have any haunted pubs on my tour.”

  “That would be a nice way to bring customers in,” Scott agreed, “but nothing more has happened since.”

  “And we’re so happy about that,” Amber replied, “but if you want to bring people around to see a formerly-cursed spot that’s been cleaned up…”

  “That might be something to consider,” Zelda mused. “But my tours do expect to see ghosts.”

  I suddenly felt a flicker of something otherworldly and all-too-familiar. I turned to the source of the sensation and spotted my father’s ghost loitering behind the bar, watching the action. I excused myself and made my way over to him.

  “Dad! What are you doing here?” I whispered, hoping no one would see.

  “I just wanted to see what Scott had done with the place. He did good. I never thought the pothead would get so ambitious.”

  He looked around some more, admiring the end result. “You and that girl with the orange hair did good, too. I see no sign of any problems here any longer.”

  “Did you see something the night we found the hidden room and the safe?”

  “Not see, but there was something off about the place. Now it’s clean.”

  He looked toward Zelda. “What’s the haunted tour lady doing here? Sampling the beer, or wanting to add to her tour?”

  “A bit of both, I believe, but she doesn’t seem inclined to bring tour groups here if the ghosts have been evicted.”

  “Well, not all the ghosts have been evicted.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Wait? Did you see something milling about?”

  “Yes, Poppy. Me! I’m a ghost and I’m here. Technically this place is haunted.”

  Huh. He had a point.

  And Zelda, with her ghostly sight, glommed on him. She was bee-lining her way over to me. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Blue!”

  Scott and Amber had followed Zelda’s abrupt shift in ou
r direction.

  “Mr. Blue?” Scott asked. “Is your dad’s ghost here? Now?”

  Zelda turned to Scott, beaming. “He sure is. I think I’m going to add the Redmond Keep to my tour of haunted places. As far as I’m concerned this counts.”

  “You know,” I said, an idea forming, “you always want me to go along with your tours for my witchy and ghost-communicating aspects, how about I attend the odd tour and you bring them along to my shop, since my father does regularly visit me there. I think that qualifies as a haunting.”

  “I think we can work with that,” Zelda nodded.

  “I’ll even consent to wearing a cape, when the weather is cold. A corset, not so much.”

  Roger, who had approached and stood behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist, simply chuckled.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You really are your mother’s daughter, getting your store added to the tour so people might have a chance to shop.”

  I shrugged. “Hey, a girl’s gotta make a living. Plus, Dad gave me the idea. I thought I’d roll with it.”

  “I can’t argue with you there.”

  I sighed and gave Scott and Amber congratulatory hugs before turning to leave with Roger. “I guess it’s time to get back to my store and tackle those shoppers and do some readings.”

  I texted Vanessa and asked if they were swamped.

  “Doing OK,” she responded. “Steady but not crazy. Fiona came by 2 do readings.”

  I read the text and paused as we approached Roger’s truck, him opening the passenger side to help me in.

  “I see the wheels are turning,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss.

  “I was just thinking thoughts.”

  “About what?”

  “Van says it’s steady but not swamped. Zelda is going to bring some tour-goers by my store. In the winter she only does the tours monthly but it’ll boost my bottom line a bit more.”

  “And?”

  “And I was thinking maybe it’d be a fine night to let myself off early and, I don’t know, maybe spend some time with my boyfriend. I’ve got a snuggly new blanket and Mom gave me an early gift … .”

  “And that gift would be?” Roger’s eyebrow quirked up.

  “Some new lingerie. I’m not sure if it’s quite me, though.” I lobbed what I was sure was a seductive pout in his direction.

  “Is it anything along the lines of that tight sweater she lent you last month after coffee was spilled on your shirt?” Roger asked.

  “No. More along the lines of that too-short, too-tight silver mini skirt she lent me after my pants ripped. But more scanty. More lacy.”

  Roger pursed his lips and shut the passenger door, quickly jogging around to the driver’s side, hopping in within record time. “You know. I think you should leave the store in Vanessa and Jordan’s capable hands for the night. I also think you should show me these gifts your mother gave you.”

  “You do?” I waited, trying hard as hell not to grin.

  “Yes, I do,” he said, his eyes bright despite the dark. “Because if they’re not you then she should return them for something more suited to you.”

  “And if they are?”

  “Then I’m going to ask her where she got them so I can buy out the store.”

  “I see. That’s covering your ass,” I laughed.

  “So long as the lingerie doesn’t, it’s all good.”

  Author’s Note

  While my books are set in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, I have taken a few liberties. I attended the university there in the mid-1990s and the version I write about is a mishmash of the city I knew during those years, as well as bits of research, return visits, and plain old making things up.

  Streets like Ashmun and Portage, and the Soo Locks and Brady Park are very real. The town has regular festivals and downtown happenings, too, and it has a nice walkable vibe to it, with old buildings, pubs and bars (many, many pubs and bars), eateries, and of course the tourist drag.

  Most of the businesses and the traditions I write about are a mishmash of the real and the made-up. In the case of make-believe, it’s to propel the story along or to set the scene.

  The ghost walks and the city historical society, in this case, are purely made up. (Though they may have ghost walks. I honestly did not check.) Many cities do have these ghost tours, and since the Sault (pronounced “Soo”) is Michigan’s oldest city, and there are a lot of older buildings with underground tunnels dating back to World War I (and repurposed for Prohibition), I thought it only seemed fitting to put that in here. And while there’s no city historical society, there is the Chippewa County Historical Society, and they were kind enough to answer a few questions I had about the buildings.

  As for the song Livvy sings, “I Am Stretched on Your Grave” is an old Irish poem dating back to the 17th century, and it’s since been set to music and covered by many artists. I thought it fitting for her, in more ways than one.

  Also by Magenta Wilde

  A Spot of Bother is the fourth book in my Poppy Blue paranormal fantasy (with a twist of humor, I hope) series.

  If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review. Reviews, for self-published books in particular, can be make or break for authors. Even a few words or a sentence or two will be enough.

  Books 1, 2 and 3 are also available on Amazon.

  Giving Up the Ghost is book 1 and it introduces Poppy and her group of family and friends. Life is good until a member of the see-through set sets its sites on her. To order, click here.

  Plenty of Trouble is book 2, and Poppy’s aunt and cousin pay a visit. People are acting strange — including cousin Plenty — and Poppy’s trying to get to the bottom of things before someone gets arrested, or worse. To order, click here.

  Tricks and Treats is book 3. Halloween treats give way to some real trickery, and Poppy needs to figure out who or what (and why) is behind the mayhem that’s been dogging her. To order, click here.

  For regular updates, I invite you to visit and like my Facebook page, Facebook.com/MagentaWildeAuthor.

  About the Author

  Magenta Wilde is a cat-wrangling, coffee-drinking, lipstick-obsessed, reading fool who aspires to be a Medieval quack. Oh, she writes paranormal fantasy novels, too. She lives in Michigan with her husband and four cats, and has a tendency toward smartassery.

  More books are on the way, including:

  Book 5 in the Poppy universe, tentatively titled A Cold Spell, is in the works.

  A book about Catrina Shaw (introduced in A Spot of Bother), the start of the Happily Hereafter series, is also being plotted and written.