by Iris Kincaid
“Since neither of you wants to stay, and since neither of you sees the upside of being one of the Earthborn, I’m sure I don’t know why the matter should concern you,” Gwynifer said sharply. “Besides, what lies inside the grimoire is not for communal use. It contains spells that will only respond to a particular complementary spirit. It was meant for Beryl. It is a fit for her soul.”
Emerson looked over the three young women and shook his head in amazement and sadness. “I sure wish Oberon could have been here for this.”
Gwynifer nodded wordlessly. “But now we must go. I feel . . . I feel that something is amiss. And I have a pretty good guess as to what.”
“Yeah, even I have a pretty good guess what that must be about, and I have no witch talent whatsoever. Give her my regards.”
Who on earth could they be talking about?
Back in the car, Lucinda was clearly feeling jubilant that her plan was coming together.
“Obviously, we’ll need some money for the renovations. I'm sure I have enough savings to cover it. Of course, I wouldn't be expecting Beryl to put in anything, given her circumstances.
“But here's what I'm thinking. Because I will be making this cash investment, then I should receive a significantly greater portion of the café’s proceeds, and when it comes time to sell the house, a bigger percentage of the sale price. Mosh can chip in too, if she'd like to be a major investor. Are we on the same page?”
“We most certainly are not on the same page,” Gwynifer growled. “You put in as much investment as is required. If more is needed, I’m sure that Mosh can reach into her pockets and give assistance. After all, she does have a quarter-jillion Twitter followers, and she must have some kind of savings set away.
“But when it comes to the profit, you will share them equally. Beryl will not receive anything less than a full third of the inheritance. And if I had my say, she’d get an even larger share.”
“That doesn’t seem right at all,” Lucinda protested. “Those who put in the biggest investment should get the greatest returns.”
“That does seem only fair,” Mosh piped in.
Gwynifer folded her arms in exasperation. “Lucinda, how is it that life allowed you to acquire such a nice pot of gold? You told us yourself that your parents paid for Stanford. That you bought a rental property with their money while you were still a student. Well, Miss Thirty Under Thirty, where do you think the money for to get you started in life came from?”
“And you,” she said, turning to Mosh, “How was your schooling paid for? How did you start off on your global travels after college, with no savings or earnings of your own?”
“My foster parents were amazingly helpful. They didn't earn a whole lot of money but I think they were really good at saving and managing their money.”
Gwynifer scoffed. “What they were good at was cashing checks. Oberon went to visit your families every year and continually endured the loss of his powers while doing so. And after he had satisfied himself that your families were taking decent care of you, he left them a check to take care of any and all of your needs. Including college, cars, real estate start-up money, traveling money . . .
“Because Beryl was lost to him, she never received the support that he desperately wanted to give her. She will receive her share now, as an inadequate attempt to redress the hardships that she suffered in the absence of your father’s support. It is a matter of justice. And it is most certainly what Oberon would have wanted.”
Lucinda shook her head. “I really don't see it that way.”
“No?” Gwynifer responded. “How about this for an alternative? Why don’t we take up all the money that Oberon contributed to your Stanford education, tuition, housing, books, everything. And the amount of money that helped to finance your first real estate purchase. And the new car when were sixteen. And the graduation vehicle that you got after college. What am I missing? That’s plenty.
“Add that all up and then subtract it from your two and a half million dollars share, and hand half that amount over to Beryl. Same with Mosh’s for financial gifts. Just subtract half the value of them straight out of her two and a half million. How does that sound?”
Mosh shrugged sheepishly. “I think we’re probably better off just dividing the coffee profits evenly.”
Lucinda made a face. “All right. House sale. Coffee profits. Evenly divided. Geez.”
Beryl caught a wink in her direction from Gwynifer in the rear-view mirror. She had to swallow a lump in her throat. Not in her entire life had anyone fought so hard for her best interests.
“Who's that?” Mosh wondered.
Beryl looked up to see who was mentioned. It was a pretty, grungy, goth-like teenager sitting on Gwynifer’s front porch. She got up and walked over to the Shimmer house to meet the others.
“What has gone wrong this time?” Gwynifer demanded.
CHAPTER SIX
“Ms. Jolly is going to make sure I get expelled. But why do I care? What difference does it make whether I have a high school diploma or not? It is seriously irrelevant and I could care less.”
But as cool as she was trying to play it, the girl clearly cared quite a bit and was noticeably agitated.
“Muriel, these are the Shimmer sisters, Beryl, Lucinda, and Mosh. And this is my young ward, Muriel Wilding.”
Muriel perked up a bit. “I can't believe they're actually here. All of them.”
“Well, why don't we save the pleasantries for later? Why, exactly, are you on the verge of being expelled?”
“Because we took a big test yesterday and I got a perfect score.”
Gwynifer shook her head. “You know what we discussed. It pains me to give such advice, but you really should have thrown in a few incorrect answers.”
“It's ridiculous,” Muriel objected. “Everyone is supposed to use what's inside their head to take a test. That's exactly what I do. No books. No notes. Just my natural intellectual resources.”
Gwynifer turned to the others. “Muriel has a perfect photographic memory. I suspect that Beryl will have the same. They are both Scholars. And it makes perfect sense that Muriel should be getting perfect scores.”
“All the other kids use their memories to take tests. Why can't I use mine? But Ms. Jolly insists that I'm cheating. You know how she feels about the Earthborn. She hates us.” Muriel turned to the Shimmer girls. “My teacher’s on the city council and she once suggested to them that witches not be allowed to attend the public schools. So now, she's going to do her best to kick us out, one by one.”
“That's outrageous,” Beryl said. “I know that you have . . . special abilities. But it doesn't sound like cheating to me.”
“Nor to me. Please keep Muriel company while I go and have a word with her teacher,” Gwynifer said with a grimace. They watched her storm away to her car next door.
“Come on in,” Mosh invited.
The four of them settled into the living room and they all examined one another with interest.
“So, Gwynifer said that you are her ward. What does that even mean?” Lucinda asked.
“Well, my father was a Mole. He took off a long time ago, right after I was born. And my mother was one of the bad ones.”
“One of the bad ones?” Beryl asked.
“Yeah. The Bad Seed is what they're usually called. They specialize in hexes, curses. They don’t care if they seriously mess up your life. They’ve killed a few people over the years and it gives the whole Earthborn community a bad name. One of them killed my mother. So, yeah, Gwynifer stepped in and became my guardian. Even the other Earthborn look at me and wonder if I’m going to turn out bad, like my mother.
“But I want to hear about you three. You've actually been out there in the real world. That's what I want to know about. What it feels like to get out of this town, which I probably never will.”
“Why not?” Mosh asked.
“Well, then I'd have to get by without my magic, and I just don't even know how
I would get by if I were as stupid and helpless as a Mole.”
“But that's exactly what we were—Moles. And we had wonderful lives,” Mosh said. Then remembering Beryl, she clarified sheepishly, “Well, I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but you can have a really fantastic, exciting life if you wanted to go out in the world, even if it meant you wouldn't be a witch anymore.”
“How? No family, no Gwynifer, no money, no magic, no high school diploma. No thanks. I could never give up my magic. No matter how much . . . no matter how much I do wonder what things are like outside. Right now, I’ll settle for just hearing about them.”
And so, the three Shimmers did their best to satisfy the burning curiosity of the young teenager. Tales of Hollywood heavy-hitters and exotic foreign travel gripped her attention.
“And what were you doing?” she finally asked Beryl.
Time for Muriel to find out what a loser she was.
“I was unemployed for two years and spent the last few weeks living in my car before I was contacted about our father's will. Although I know it's always easy to imagine greener pastures,
if you had to choose between my life and keeping your magic, no contest.”
Muriel beamed at her unexpectedly. “Oberon always knew that you'd make it back here. And you did. He said that you were probably going to have a hard life and he hoped you'd be all the stronger for it.”
What high expectations that man had of her. Perhaps he wouldn't have been nearly as disappointed in her as she was in herself.
“Anyone want some water?” Mosh asked. Everyone did, and Mosh dashed into the kitchen. But she was back just a moment later, holding a very heavy garbage can. It had four large baby trees sprouting through the top of the can. Mosh could barely carry it.
“What on earth is this?” she asked. “Where did this come from?”
“Did anyone put seeds in the can?” Muriel asked.
“Orange seeds. Yes, I threw away some orange seeds,” Mosh said. “You can’t be saying . . .”
“Cool. But you should take those out in the backyard right now, before they get any bigger, and put them exactly where you want them to grow. Gwynifer would say that you have a talent for fertility. You won’t mind if we come over and help ourselves to the oranges, will you?”
Mosh shook her head, not at all happy with this development. She took the trees outside and returned ten minutes later.
“So, I can’t touch seeds,” Mosh deduced.
“Of, course, you can. You should try avocados next,” Muriel suggested.
“Gwynifer is back,” Lucinda noted.
“Uh-oh,” Muriel said.
Gwynifer stormed in. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you,” she said to Muriel. “You left out quite a bit in your accounting of this story. You left out the most interesting bit, actually. Where is your common sense? Did you actually wish her a slow and painful death?”
“Sure. Why not? I was mad.” Muriel turned to the Shimmers. “It's just an old saying. Like drop dead.”
“Not coming from a witch, it isn't. Not coming from the daughter of a bad seed. It is a threat on her life. She will say that she was perfectly justified in expelling you, and the local authorities are very likely to side with her.”
Gwynifer looked at the Shimmer girls, exasperated. “The arrogance and recklessness of adolescence are by no means limited to the Mole population, as you can see. They can come up with their own multitude of reasons for trying to exclude and condemn us. There is no need to assist them. By morning, the entire town will be chattering about your threat.”
Muriel pouted. “What are we going to do?”
“There is no reasoning with a woman who hates us that much. I will have to sleep on it, I suppose.”
“Hey, who got the violin?” Muriel asked, tired of dealing with the mess that she was in.
“Oh, yes, it's been such an interesting day that I nearly forgot.”
Gwynifer walked into a nearby room and came back with a violin in pristine condition, that nonetheless had the feel of antiquity about it.
“This was one of Oberon’s cherished possessions. You will each play this, and whoever was meant to have it will keep it.”
Immediately, all three Shimmer girls protested they did not know how to play. Gwynifer handed it to Beryl. “You first.”
Beryl did her best to remember the technique she had seen from televised concerts and scraped the bow across the instrument, expecting to hear an awful screech. But there was no sound whatsoever.
“I'm sorry, my dear, but this is not for you. Mosh, why don't you give it a try?”
Mosh took the violin. “I do play a little guitar, but this is a whole lot different. I am pretty musical though. I'll give it a try.”
And so she did give it a try. But as with Beryl’s attempt, she couldn’t get a single note out of the instrument. Gwynifer pulled it back. “One last try before I have to put this in the attic.”
“Oh, I've never had time for instruments,” Lucinda said almost proudly. “When you take into consideration the return on investment, it's just a low-return activity.”
She tucked her chin into the violin and prepared to imitate her sisters’ unsuccessful efforts. But instead, a sweet sound emerged—a violin sound. The instrument appeared to be working quite well, but only for Lucinda. Gwynifer was impressed.
“Lucinda, you have finally surprised me. And in good time, I suspect that you will surprise yourself. The violin is yours.”
“Why didn't it play for us?” Beryl asked. “What kind of violin is it?”
“The kind that signifies a link to the other side. Lucinda may be able to see spirits and communicate with them, just as your father did.”
“Ghosts! Cool!” Muriel said enviously. “I wish I could see ghosts.”
“No. No. No. No. I don't ever want to see a ghost.”
“Not even your father?” Muriel inquired innocently.
That question had Lucinda stumped. Of course, she wanted to see their father. Even dead. Kind of. Sort of.
They heard a car door slam, and Mosh went to look out the window. “Ooh, fancy. I think it’s a Jaguar. I don’t think you see too many of those in Marvel Canyon.”
“Who could it possibly be?” Beryl asked.
There was a knock on the door and Lucinda ushered in their guest. He was a handsome young man, in his mid-thirties, and sharply dressed. Way overdressed for such an easy-going laid-back place like Marvel Canyon.
“Good afternoon, ladies. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Austin Sinclair. My father is Bernard Sinclair of Sinclair Enterprises. You may have heard of him,” he suggested smugly, sure that they had.
Lucinda reacted. “Bernard Sinclair? Of course I have. He’s a really heavy hitter on the East Coast.”
“I would even say nationally. Our investments are exploding in all directions. Which brings me to the point of my business here today. I’d like to make you an offer on this house.”
“You want to live here?” Mosh asked, surprised.
“Oh, no. Our family is based in a big condo complex that we own in South Beach. No, this is purely a business venture. Responding to the budget travel sector, we’re thinking about turning this place into a boutique youth hostel.”
“Youth hostel!” Mosh said. “Seriously? I gotta tell you, travel is my business, and I’ve stayed in dozens, no, hundreds of youth hostels. They’re great businesses in areas with a lot of tourist attractions, and maybe once upon a time, Marvel Canyon had that kind of traffic.
“But not now. It’s going to be a lot easier to create a business that caters to the local population than to try to appeal to the travelers who don’t really have a reason to come here anymore.”
“I’m going to have to disagree with you there,” Austin said. We’ve given the matter a great deal of thought and researched the market potential extensively. But it’s fine for us to agree to disagree. The only thing we need to agree on is price.”
H
e handed a sheet of paper to Lucinda, who unfolded it and did not look pleased.
“This is really on the lowball side. I assume that you are open to negotiation.”
“Not really. You won’t get any other offers, not in a town where the job prospects are dwindling so precipitously.”
“We’re counting on attracting quite a few offers after we have rehabbed the bottom floor into a café and it has an income-producing business component.”
Austin didn’t seem to like the sound of that. “I need to caution you from making some very costly investments that you will never recoup in the sales price. We would like this property as is, but we don’t intend to take on the cost of renovations that don’t suit our needs.”
“What exactly are your needs? You mean youth hostel needs?”
“Yes. And now that I think of it, perhaps we’ll be able to find some of your additions useful. We will be needing a large communal kitchen and a dining room area as well. But as for the upstairs rooms, we don’t want to sink a lot of money into alterations.
“We are going to need to large public bathrooms with three shower stalls and three toilet stalls apiece, one for men and one for women. I hear that there are five bedrooms upstairs, which is excellent. We can probably squeeze three bunkbeds into each room. Six guests per room. That’s thirty guests.”
“I don’t know a lot about businesses for traveling or youth hostels,” Beryl said, “but that sounds pretty noisy and crowded and unpleasant. Do you really think you can make money from that kind of housing?”
“I’m positive. Now, you’ll you want to discuss this offer among yourselves. It’s good until . . . well, until my father decides to retract it. But for your own best interests, don’t underestimate the difficulty of finding another buyer. It may be uniquely well-fitted for our purposes, but otherwise, it’s going to be a very difficult property to generate interest. I hope to hear from you very soon. My number is right on the top of that sheet. Ladies.”
He nodded goodbye and left with a big smile.
“He’s creepy,” Beryl said.
“He’s a jerk,” Mosh said.