Something Buried, Something Blue

by Wendy Corsi Staub

  Walking down the hall toward her, Bella catches a floral whiff in the air. It can’t be the bouquet, and it doesn’t smell like perfume, either.

  “Calla forgot the bracelet,” Johneen informs her.

  “Pardon? Which bracelet?”

  “I’d asked her weeks ago if I could borrow her emerald bracelet. You know, as my ‘something borrowed.’ It was your idea.”

  “My idea?”

  “Maybe it was Odelia’s idea. But I was counting on it, and now Calla’s claiming she accidentally left it home.”

  “Claiming?”

  “It used to belong to her mother, so I don’t think she wants to lend it to me. Back in college, she told some crazy story about how she lost it at her mother’s funeral in Florida, and then it mysteriously turned up here in Lily Dale months later, covered in dirt from the grave.”

  Bella’s heart skips, and her hand goes to the tourmaline pendant dangling above her cleavage. “Where . . . where is Calla now?”

  “She went back upstairs to see if she has any other jewelry that would be suitable, but I doubt it. Plus, I still need ‘something blue.’ Parker says it’s my eyes, but . . .” Johneen trails off, her gaze landing on Bella’s hand clutching the necklace. She turns around and leans in to examine it. “This would work. It would be borrowed and blue.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  Johneen’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

  Before Bella can elaborate, footsteps descend from the third floor, and Calla appears in the hallway. Her face is fully made up but appears entirely natural, and her hair is swept into an updo that looks gloriously careless, as if plucking one bobby pin would send it tumbling past her shoulders. Coming to a halt beside the bride, Calla is a few inches shorter even in heeled black pumps. Her velvet dress is maroon, not white. Yet she somehow manages to upstage the bride.

  “Here,” she says, offering Johneen a small jewelry box. “You can wear this. It’s a sapphire-and-diamond necklace—borrowed and blue. Just don’t lose it. Jacy gave it to me for my birthday last year.”

  Johneen opens the box and examines the necklace, then shakes her head. “It’s too small. I’d rather wear that.”

  She points again at Bella’s pendant, and Bella fights the urge to back away.

  “I’m sorry,” she says simply, “but this is one thing I just can’t lend you. It’s . . . from my husband.”

  “You’re married?”

  “Widowed.” Even now, she puckers her mouth around the word’s bitterness.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Johneen looks as though it’s news to her, though Bella is pretty sure she’s mentioned it before. “I wouldn’t lose it, Isabella. It’s not as if I’m a reckless child playing dress up.”

  “No, I know. But I just can’t let it go even for a little while,” she says firmly, if uncharitably. She’s tempted to add an apology but decides Johneen doesn’t deserve one. For someone who seems to pride herself on being ladylike, she doesn’t exactly have impeccable manners.

  “I don’t see why—”

  “Johnny, stop!”

  Taken aback at Calla’s sharp command, she scowls. “I keep telling you that I don’t go by that nickname anymore.”

  “And I keep forgetting. Sorry. But listen, Bella said no. You need to respect that.”

  “I’m just saying, it’s not like it’s the crown jewels.”

  “That necklace has sentimental value, which means it’s priceless to her. Take mine.”

  “It isn’t as striking. The stones are dinky. No offense,” she adds airily.

  “None taken,” Calla says, just as airily. She reaches out to take back the jewelry box, but Johneen holds onto it.

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to wear it.”

  “Are you?”

  “I guess so, since it’s borrowed and blue.” She fastens it around her neck, examines the effect in the mirror, and gives a shrug that says it’ll have to do.

  As she starts back down the hall toward her room, Calla stops her. “John—neen?”

  “Yes?” She turns back expectantly, still perturbed, although perhaps slightly less so since Calla caught herself this time before using the dreaded nickname.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “About the bracelet? Or the necklace?”

  “Just in general.”

  Johneen frowns. “Why do you ask? Don’t I look all right?”

  She’s bone-thin and pale. But isn’t she always?

  At Calla’s hesitation, she narrows her eyes. “Did someone tell you that I wasn’t feeling well today?”

  “No. I just . . . sensed it.”

  She smirks. “That’s right, I keep forgetting you’re one of them.”

  “What?”

  “You know . . . the ghostbusters.”

  “Are you talking about the Spiritualists?” Bella asks pointedly.

  “Isn’t it the same thing?”

  Calla rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and repeats her original question.

  “Yes, I feel fine.” Without another word, Johneen retreats into her room with a rustling swoosh of silk and closes the door behind her.

  Bella looks at Calla. “Is she fine?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You didn’t have a premonition about her, did you?”

  When the answer isn’t an immediate no, Bella’s heart sinks.

  “It wasn’t a premonition exactly. More just a sense of malaise.”

  “Was it about her? Or were you channeling what she’s feeling?”

  “Sometimes, it’s hard to tell.”

  “So you don’t think she’s going to . . . fall down the stairs or get bitten by a spider or anything?”

  “What? No. Why?”

  Though Bella can’t betray Parker and Virginia’s confidences, she quickly tells Calla about Odelia and Pandora’s visions and about the letter.

  Calla digests it all thoughtfully, then asks if Johneen knows any of this.

  “No.” Bella hesitates, not wanting to mention that she was about to tell Parker in light of his own suspicions. “I didn’t think it was up to me to tell her.”

  “Can I see the letter?”

  “That’s the thing. I can’t find it. I’m pretty sure I left it in a drawer, and now it isn’t there. And now my phone is missing, too. So either someone took them, or I’m losing my mind, or . . . well, those are the only two explanations I can think of.”

  “You forgot—”

  “Nadine.”

  “You know about Nadine?”

  “Your grandmother told me about her. I know she supposedly lives here and that she likes to move things around and play little tricks, but that hasn’t happened to me.”

  “I guess it might have been Nadine, but I was going to say telekinesis,” Calla says with a shrug.

  Bella is well-versed enough in paranormal terminology to know she’s referring to inanimate objects that move around courtesy of psychic energy.

  Telekinesis isn’t exactly logical, though. Nor is a resident ghost, or “the others.” Bella steers the conversation back to Johneen, leading Calla to the subject of her angry ex. As a friend, she must know about him.

  “Is there anyone you can think of in Johneen’s past who wouldn’t want this wedding to happen?”

  “Sure. There are plenty of people.”

  “Plenty?”

  “Well, for one thing, her parents wouldn’t be thrilled if they found out. This isn’t exactly their idea of a proper wedding.”

  “But would they write an anonymous note?”

  “It’s definitely not dignified, but like I told you, they’re pretty dysfunctional. And . . . let’s see, Johnny was dating a guy back when she lived in Philly. I guess he went a little bonkers when she dumped him.”

  “Bonkers how?”

  “I don’t know the details. All I know is that he wasn’t happy when she ended it.”

  “Do you think he could have written the note?”

  “I never met him,
so it’s hard to say.”

  “What was his name?”

  “I knew you were going to ask me that.”

  “Because you’re psychic?”

  “Because I feel like you’re a cop interrogating me.” Calla closes her eyes as if probing her memory. “I think his first name was Griffin? Graham? Something like that.”

  “What was—”

  “I don’t even think I ever knew his last name. But you said the letter was mailed here in the Dale, right? And this guy lived down in New York City. That, I remember, because Johnny used to complain about taking the train up there to see him. She’s not big on public transportation, and she was afraid to drive in city traffic. That’s pretty much why she ended it.”

  And not because he was too possessive? Did Johneen keep that, and perhaps other details, from her friends?

  Jarred by the image of the ice queen as a vulnerable victim, Bella hears a car outside, slowing in front of the house.

  There are a thousand other questions she wants to ask Calla, but she settles on the most important one. “Do you think your grandmother could possibly have written that anonymous note?”

  Calla nods. “Look, I’m not saying that it’s likely, or that it’s not a lousy thing to do, but Gammy can be a little single-minded when it comes to getting Spirit’s message across. So, yes, I guess she could have. But if she did, I’m sure it was impulsive, and she’s probably wishing she hadn’t. Gammy would never want to upset you, of all people.”

  Then maybe she’s the one who crept upstairs while Bella was outside and took back the letter.

  It could also have been Pandora. Maybe she’d mailed the letter earlier this week, regretted it after meeting Parker, and decided to reclaim it. If so, this wouldn’t be the first time she’d snuck in and out of her former home via the secret passageways.

  Outside, a car door slams, and Bella hears distant voices through the open front door below.

  Hurriedly, she asks Calla, “Do you think Spirit is really trying to warn Johneen not to marry Parker?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “But if something really terrible was going to happen to her, you’d probably be getting a more specific feeling too, wouldn’t you?”

  “Not necessarily. It doesn’t work that way.”

  Hoping that it doesn’t work at all, Bella asks, “Do you think you should tell Johneen?”

  “If a psychic had come to you on your wedding day with a cryptic warning that something terrible might happen if you married your husband, what would you have done?”

  “I’d have been upset.”

  “Upset enough to call off the wedding?”

  Of course not. But Sam and I were different from Johneen and Parker. We were soul mates.

  Then again, petty disagreements aside, Johneen and Parker certainly seem to believe they’re destined to live happily ever after.

  “Bella?”

  “No,” she admits. “I would have gone through with it no matter what.”

  Nothing could have stopped her from marrying Sam. Even if she had known, beyond a shadow of doubt, that her marriage would end as tragically as it had, she’d have marched down that aisle and taken her vows with conviction.

  But what if she had a potentially violent ex who might be planning to show up at the wedding to harm her or her groom?

  As far as Calla knows, there’s no concrete evidence of that, only psychic intuition. Bella had sworn she wouldn’t tell anyone about the missing ring or that Parker believes Johneen’s ex has been stalking her, but it’s only Calla. She might be able to help.

  Bella takes a deep breath, again noticing a strange floral scent in the air. This time, it’s even stronger, but as before, there’s no discernible source.

  The door bursts open below and Max bellows, “Mom! Mom!”

  “Wow, he sounds frantic. I hope everything’s okay,” Calla says.

  He always sounds that way, and whatever it is can most likely wait, but Bella isn’t taking any chances today.

  “I’m coming,” she calls, excusing herself to Calla and hurrying down the stairs.

  She finds Max and Millicent in the entry hall with Luther, Jiffy, and Odelia.

  “Hey, Mom, guess what? We’re going to the movies!”

  “Who’s going to the movies?”

  “I’m taking them,” Luther tells her, “if that’s okay with you?”

  “You came over to take them to the movies?”

  “No, I came over to drop off the liquor you needed. I ran into everyone outside.”

  “I ran into everyone, too,” Jiffy says, “after I saw them through the window of my house.”

  Grinning, Luther goes on, “We got to talking about that new movie Candy Corn that just came out and how all the kids at school are going to the Saturday matinee.”

  “All of them?” Odelia asks with a wink.

  “Every single one,” Bella assures her, remembering to lock the keys back in the desk drawer. “I heard all about it yesterday.”

  “But you said you’re too busy to take us,” Max tells her.

  “So is my mom, by the way,” Jiffy puts in. “And Luther’s been wanting to see it too, right, Luther?”

  He nods solemnly. “But I haven’t been able to find anyone willing to go with me.”

  “And you’re lucky ’cause Max and me are willing.” Eager to launch a new adventure, Jiffy bounces a little on his sneakers, one of which is untied, as usual.

  Well aware that Luther is trying to get Max out of her hair so that she can execute the wedding in peace, Bella is grateful. Now, if there’s any kind of trouble at the wedding, at least she won’t have to worry about her son.

  “What about your tennis game?” she asks Luther.

  “It’s not until later this afternoon. But we have to get moving if we’re going to make it, so are you ready, boys?”

  They’re ready.

  “Tie your shoe, Jiffy.” Luther turns to Millicent, who’s drifted across the threshold into the parlor. “Would you like to come along, Ms. Jordan?”

  Looking slightly worse for wear, her hair wispy from the breeze, she says, “Pardon? To the movie? Oh, um, no, no thank you. I’m just going to sit here and rest for a minute.”

  She sinks onto the sofa as Luther and the boys blow out of the house like a tornado. For a moment, the only sounds are the ticking clock, a leaf blower buzzing somewhere outside, and the old floorboards creaking overhead as the guests get ready for the wedding.

  Bella reluctantly breaks the tranquility, asking Millicent how she enjoyed her lunch at the café.

  “It was . . . all right.”

  “What did you order?” Odelia asks.

  “Minestrone soup. There were bean sprouts in it. And French fries.”

  Though the recipe sounds right up her alley, Odelia shakes her head and explains, “On Saturdays, they just dump all the week’s leftovers into a pot, boil it up, and call it minestrone. If you want decent soup, I have plenty of menudo.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but . . . not right now.”

  “Did you go to the playground after lunch?” Bella asks her.

  “Yes. We swung on the swings.”

  “Both of you?”

  Millicent nods and leans her head back, allowing her eyes to close lightly. “He’s quite a persuasive child. I may need a nap.”

  “I was just getting ready to go back next door,” Odelia tells her. “Come on with me. You can lie down.”

  Bella is surprised when Millicent agrees.

  Walking the two women to the front door, Bella is just in time to see a kitten scoot behind the reception desk. Startled, she hurries after it as Millicent shrieks as if it were a rat.

  “It’s just a kitten,” Odelia tells her. “Got him, Bella?”

  “Not yet.” On her hands and knees, she crawls after the tiny, black fur ball. After a brief scuffle, she manages to grab hold of him.

  “Is that Spidey?” Odelia asks in surprise when she emerges. “
I didn’t think he was that mobile.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “You’d better be more careful about closing your bedroom door.”

  Bella nods, unnerved, positive she did close the door this time and that Spidey was safely inside.

  “It’s dangerous for him to be running around with people coming and going,” Odelia goes on, looking thoughtful, and Bella realizes she’s wondering whether her vision might have something to do with this.

  A spider, a key sticking out of a lock in the door . . .

  Maybe Spirit was warning them that they need to be more careful about securing the kittens in the Rose Room. Especially vulnerable little Spidey.

  It makes as much sense as anything else, Bella thinks as she cups the wee kitten in one hand, using the other to unlock the desk drawer and take out the keys again. She locks the drawer and carries the kitten up the stairs, cradling him against her collarbone and feeling his wispy whiskers tickling her chin.

  If anything were to happen to this little guy, Max would be devastated, and so would she. Especially if her own scatterbrained recklessness was to blame.

  Her bedroom door is still closed and locked.

  Did Spidey somehow sneak out when she stepped out into the hall? Maybe she just hadn’t noticed. She’d been startled by the sight of Johneen, thinking she was a ghost.

  That’s the only logical explanation, because even if he managed to crawl into the closet and through the panel, a tiny, fragile little guy like him never could have made it down the shadowy tunnel to the basement and found his way back up to the hall again in such a short time.

  There is another logical explanation: someone snuck into the room with a duplicated key after she left, and Spidey slipped out.

  The moment Bella crosses the threshold, she knows that that’s exactly what happened, because there, sitting squarely on the nightstand, is her cell phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What time is it?” Odelia whispers to Bella. Neither of them is wearing a watch, but Bella is clutching her cell phone tightly in her hand.