The Money Pit

by George, Renee

  Win barked a laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic. When you rappel down the side of Mt. Olympus, then we’ll discuss treacherous conditions.”

  I stopped short on my way up those very stairs I mentioned. “Stop. You did not rappel down Mt. Olympus.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? I still don’t even know how you died. In fact, I have no confirmation you were ever a spy at all.” I was still a little bitter about that. Win held the circumstances of his life and death close to his ghostly chest and I was just supposed to take him at his word.

  Which I had.

  I reasoned his being a spy was probably part of his motivation not to share, but the other half of me, the half that wanted to use my Google Fu on him and dig into his life, thought it was terribly convenient to claim he was a spy with no recorded history. Yet. I continued to respect his wishes.

  “Don’t be bitter, Stevie. I told you, all in good time.”

  “When is a good time, Win? Define ‘good’ in Win’s world.”

  “Say again, Miss Cartwright?” Enzo said from behind me before he plowed up our crumbling steps to stand in front of me, a pink piece of paper dangling from his thick, calloused fingers.

  I pressed my hand to my totally fake Bluetooth, the one I used as my beard when someone caught me talking to Win, and shook my head. It was an ingenious idea and kept people from asking too many questions or thinking I was bananapants for talking to myself. And yes, it had been Win’s idea. Score another one for the spy.

  Smiling, I said, “I was just on the phone. So how’s everything going? Is the driveway going in? Please say yes. I don’t even care how much it costs. I don’t. I’d pay double just to avoid dragging my sorry butt up these stairs in the pouring rain every day.”

  Enzo grunted the grunt that meant more money was required. “Glad you said that, because it’s gonna cost ya,” he offered in his bold New York accent.

  I stopped to look at him just before reaching the wide porch, now newly planked with a gorgeous, darkly stained cedar. “You say that like it’s a million dollars. How bad can it be?”

  His moon-shaped face wrinkled as he fussed with his signature Yankees ball cap, rearranging it on his head. “Close enough.” He held up the estimate from the driveway guy and stuck it in my face.

  “Oh, bloody bollocks!” Win barked in my ear. “The devil I’ll pay that kind of money for a blessed driveway! Besides, the exercise is good for you, Stevie. You said as much yourself just the other day when you were admiring your thighs and how toned they’d become.”

  Fighting a blush, because I hadn’t realized Win had actually paid attention to my comment or my thighs, I smiled at Enzo. “I told you, I don’t care how much it costs. Tell him we’re in.”

  Enzo’s moon face scrunched up in distaste. “But he’s way the heck over budget, Miss Cartwright! He could cut some corners on a job this big and still come out smellin’ like a rose in Brooklyn.”

  “What the wise contractor said, Stevie,” Win agreed.

  But I shook my head, pulling my turban off and stuffing it under my arm. “I don’t want to haggle with him because I want it done ASAP. I know you want to get the best deal for me, Enzo, and I appreciate it, but this isn’t up for negotiation. I need to be able to get to the front door of my house without feeling like I’d just climbed Everest in some sandals.”

  He shrugged his pudgy shoulders and jammed his thumbs under his overalls. “All right, but I’m tellin’ ya, he’s takin’ ya for a sweet ride.”

  “Then consider me his willing passenger,” I said on a chuckle as I reached for the beautiful antique doorknob I’d driven all the way to Portland for because Win absolutely had to have it.

  “Oh! Almost forgot. There’s a lady in there waitin’ for ya. Dresses like she’s on her way to a Duran Duran concert. Popped up outta nowhere, too. Went to use the facilities, coulda sworn I locked the front door and bam, there she was. Nice enough, though, and darn sharp to look at. Seemed pretty harmless and said she wasn’t budgin’ an inch ’til she saw your pretty face. You want I should go in with ya?”

  My stomach somersaulted in a nervous lurch. I only needed to hear the Duran Duran part of Enzo’s explanation to know who waited for me inside, and she was anything but harmless.

  Baba Yaga was here.

  Yay.

  Baba had a penchant for anything from the ’80s, her all-time favorite era, according to her. Leg warmers, dog-ear teased hair on either side of her head, Aqua Net, leopard leggings, ripped sweatshirts and row after row of bangle bracelets were her jam.

  Patting Enzo on the shoulder, I shook my head. “No. You go give two thumbs up to Driveway Guy so he can get started right away and I’ll handle my guest. Thanks for watching out for me, though.”

  “Made ya a pot of coffee. Got a new brew the other day. Heavy on the hazelnut with just a hint of dark-chocolate roast.”

  Pinching his cheek, I smiled at him. “You are my dream man, Enzo. Will you marry me?”

  He grinned, wide and facetious. “Ya think the missus’ll mind a sister-wife?”

  I giggled in response, pushing open the heavy door. As I stepped into the entryway, now light and airy with new walls painted in a pale lemon and reclaimed dark wood flooring, complemented by white crown molding, I inhaled. Setting my purse down on the small table next to the stairs, I let the beauty of my surroundings soothe me.

  I loved the bright, cheerful entry with its multicolored stained-glass window above the hulking door Enzo had taken such pains to restore, the winding staircase leading to my future dream bedroom, the light infusing every corner of the space.

  “Am I hearin’ right? Is the old bat here? Like here-here, in Ebenezer Falls?” Belfry asked.

  I scooped him out and nodded, tucking him onto my shoulder. “She is. She probably wants to see you, buddy. You know how much she likes to check up on her subjects and be treated like one of the people.”

  Belfry bristled, the hair on his tiny body standing on end. “Why would she wanna see me?”

  “Because you still serve her, Bel, and she’s always been hands-on, and you went through a trauma just the way I did. I have no affiliation to her anymore. Which means she has no power over my mortal butt. So what could she want to see me about? Has to be you she’s checking on.”

  “I take it this is the fearless leader you spoke of who shunned you?” Win asked.

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Ex-fearless leader, and you take it right.”

  “Shall I make myself scarce? Do you wish to speak privately? Or do you want me to pull the old ghost routine? Shake the table? Flicker the lights? Hold that thought. I know. Why don’t I open and shut the fridge door? I’m getting quite proficient at it. Just ask Bel.”

  “The truth, Boss! Winterbutt totally held the door open long enough for me to see the moldy sliced ham you bought a hundred years ago for sandwiches you never ate in favor of chocolate Pop-Tarts.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I shook my head. “Nope. There’s nothing I haven’t told you at this point and nothing I want to hide.”

  “Poke, poke, poke,” he teased.

  Feeling prickly, I got saucy. “Well, it’s true. You know almost everything there is to know about me.”

  “All right then, I’ll come with. I’ll be with you the whole way. If you need my assistance, simply say the word.”

  I’d never tell him, but I took comfort in knowing Win had my back. That he’d be right in my ear if I needed him.

  How did you make chit-chat with the woman who’d once been your esteemed ruler after she’d blatantly sided with an angry, spiteful, deader-than-a-doornail, no-good warlock and his fellow council members?

  Not only sided with them, but didn’t say word one in my defense when said no-good, wife-abusing warlock literally slapped the witch right out of me in a fit of rage after I’d dared intervene in his private family matter. And all this after he’d nearly killed his wife and son while I tried
to stop him.

  That was exactly how I’d ended up back in my old hometown of Ebenezer Falls. Not just because I had nowhere else to go. But because I’d tried to help an abusive, power-tripping warlock’s son in the most frightening moment of his young life and in return, I no longer had my powers, my friends, or my life.

  My old life. My new one was shaping up quite nicely, thank you, and if Baba was here to check on the debris she’d left in her wake, I’d tell her so. I was never a very outspoken witch. I played by the rules. I was loyal to the coven even when I thought something wasn’t totally fair.

  But no more.

  Squaring my shoulders, I took my time getting to the kitchen, parsing my angry thoughts, trying to form them into cohesive sentences.

  But I just couldn’t. Now that the eleventh hour was here, and I was about to face the person who’d technically agreed I deserved to have my powers taken from me, I found I had only ugly things to say.

  Which meant I’d better say nothing at all.