“What did you do before this?” Lettie asked.
That was a complicated question. “Depends,” I answered, as honestly as I could be. I tried to think quickly, to go over everything I’d told them beforehand. “I did a lot of temp work,” I said. “I didn't really have a permanent job.”
Everyone was watching me. It felt like an interrogation. At least they weren’t Kerrity.
“Why?” Lettie asked.
“I was taking care of Mom,” I said simply.
A flinch from Ella and Lizbeth, concern from Wren and Theo. Lettie didn’t move.
“Mom got cancer,” I said, glancing down at my feet before I looked back up at them. “I gave up school and a career to take care of her.”
Silence swept across the room, and it took some effort for me to glance up from my feet and meet their eyes. Theo and Wren looked sad, but the distant sort of sad where they didn't really know the person who’d died, just knew of them. Lettie just looked stoic, like nothing surprised her or ever would. I wasn't sure what to make of that, either.
Ella, however, looked devastated. I looked closer at her, closer at Lizbeth. There was a sadness there, one that was bone deep. “You didn't know,” I said, not sure how I knew. “You didn’t know how she died.”
“Your mother kept to herself.” I wasn't sure what Ella meant by that, and I looked closer at her. “After she left, we didn’t hear from her at all.”
“I'm sorry,” I said, even though I wasn't sure if I was.
“There's nothing to be sorry for,” Lettie said with a shake of her head. That seemed to catch all of us off guard, because I could feel the surprise of Lizbeth and Ella before I saw it in their body language.
“What do you mean?” It was Lizbeth who spoke. “I don't understand.”
I felt like I’d lost track of the conversation. Not that it wasn't something I could grasp, but that the topic had changed without me being aware of it. I had a feeling it wasn't the first or the last time it would happen.
“Samantha made her own decision,” Lettie said fiercely. “Lou has no reason to suffer for decision she was not part of.”
Lizbeth opened her mouth, looking for the world like a teenager about to argue, but all Lettie had to do was raise her eyebrow, and Lizbeth’s mouth snapped shut. As uncomfortable as I was, I stifled a laugh with my palm. Lizbeth was a therapist, a mother of twins. The fact she could be thwarted by my grandmother – her mother – was something I found eternally amusing. But then again, we all had our weaknesses.
Mine just happened to be gone.
“What are your plans?” Lettie asked, as if that was a much more important question. For all it was apparently supposed to be a casual dinner, it seemed that Lettie was taking advantage of it to ask anything she wanted.
“Here?” I asked, trying to figure out the scope of what she was talking about.
“In town,” she clarified.
“I'm not really sure,” I admitted. “I didn't really anticipate the murder investigation.” My stomach soured at the mention.
“No, that's not something many can schedule,” Lettie said, her voice dry.
Theo chuckled, and the air lightened, even in the midst of the hot oven.
“You have her smile,” Lettie said softly, her eyes distant.
“Mom’s?” I couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ve been told that before.”
Lettie inclined her head to the side. “Yes,” she said. It was as if that was that, and it was the last thing she cared to say about the matter.
A loud alarm sounded. “Finally,“ she said, distracted but in a better way. “I believe dinner’s finished.”
I glanced around the kitchen, since it seemed like nothing had changed. I couldn’t even tell where the alarm was coming from.
“Go.” Lettie shooed me out the door. I went, although I had no idea where I was going. It was maybe five minutes before we were settled at the table, and food appeared in front of us like in Harry Potter.
By the time dinner was done, I was regretting any thoughts I had ever had about turning them down for their offer. It was some of the best food I'd ever had, even compared to the two semesters when I’d been in culinary school.
“Good?” Lettie asked, smug, as if she knew the answer to her question. She probably did.
“Can I just live in your kitchen?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes, but it was fond.
Silence settled at the table, and I fought not to fidget. Instead I cleared my throat, drawing their attention. “I talked to Millie,” I said.
“I take it she was a paragon of information,” Lettie drawled.
I saw Lizbeth and Ella exchange looks.
“I can get you what you need,” Wren said, sounding almost resigned. “I’ll take you tomorrow.”
I looked at her in surprise. Although I wasn't sure whether I was surprised she had an answer, or that it'd taken her so long to come forward with it.
“You're not going to stay, are you?” Theo asked, her words hard. I couldn't tell if she didn't like me, or if it was just her response to the question, or – if it was something else involved.
I owed them to answer honestly. “I don't know,” I said, which was the truth. “Being accused of murder doesn't really enamor somebody to a town.”
I glanced in what I hoped was the direction of the house.
“So you’re thinking still?” Lettie asked. I could see Wren’s face crestfallen.
“I don't know.” I glanced at the table in front of me.
“It all depends,” a familiar voice said.
I glanced at the door, surprised to see Mocha sitting there, nonchalant, next to the door, as if she'd been there the entire time. She probably had. I had been somewhat distracted.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Lettie and Ella exchanged curious looks, and it was Wren who answered. “Her familiar,” she said.
Mocha yawned, coming to sit by my leg as if that was where she belonged. Even at the dinner table.
I eyed her. “Are you hoping for snacks?” I asked.
She gave me a look. “In what world would it be a bad idea to do that?”
I had to give her that. Plus the food was good.
“You do know,” Lettie said slowly, “if you leave, she goes with you.” There was something hard in her eyes, something I didn't like. “Your magic goes with you.”
I opened my mouth, and I closed it. “Oh.” I said. I wasn't sure else to say to that, how else to react to it. I wasn't trained, I couldn't handle it. I was a grownup, but this was a whole different ball game.
“I’ll stay until I’m trained,” I said. “At least.” I sort of doubted there would be enough to convince me to stay, especially after the whole murder and investigation thing but, if I really was magic, as much as I didn't like the idea, I wanted to have a handle on this new part of me.
Afterwards? I could figure that out then.
“Okay,” Wren said.
“You’re attending the will reading, are you not?” Lettie asked.
“The what?”
“For Mildred.” There was something blasé to her look, casual.
“Isn't that only open to family?” I said, flustered.
Lettie’s smile had a lot of story behind it, and I had to admit, from the way she acted, it made me curious. “Nothing is that simple here,” she said cheerfully.
I saw Wren and Theo exchange rolled eyes, as if it was a lecture they’d gotten before. It was an inside joke, one that I didn’t know. It was easy to feel a tug, to be tempted by the idea staying for a long time, finding a home with these people who had accepted me so easily. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I didn't want to give them the idea that I was going to commit before I decided to.
None of that was fair.
“I don't know if your mother taught you,” Mocha said conversationally, “but life isn't fair.”
“Thanks, buzzkill,” I said.
I could feel Mocha
smirk through our connection – whatever it was.
“You said you worked there?” I asked Wren, completely changing the topic now that silence descended. I wasn't sure how to deal with that, so I did my other best coping mechanism, which was ignoring it.
I really was a functional adult.
“I know the frequent customers,” Wren said.
“Are you hunting them down?” I asked.
“I’d like to see you stop me,” she said cheerfully.
When I looked back at Ella, there was something worried in her gaze, but when she caught my gaze, it disappeared. Instead she smiled.
“What about now?” I asked, glancing around us.
Wren looked at me, questioning. “Now?
“Is there any reason we shouldn't do it now?” I asked. I was always a fan of sooner rather than later.
“Let's go for it,” Wren said, grinning.
She had the same kind of fighting spirit I liked, one that I thought would get us through these kinds of situations.
I turned to look at Lettie and the others, who were watching with some sort of resignation, as if they'd anticipated this whole situation the moment I started talking. Maybe they had.
“Let's go,” Theo said with a sigh, standing. “If you think you're going anywhere without me, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Taking it for the support it was, I headed out the door, my friends right behind me.
“His name is Yanis,” Wren prepped as we walked up the cobblestone walkway. “He’s in his sixties, spent a lot of time at the coffee shop. He talked to Mildred a couple times.”
“Got it.” I nodded, nervous even with Wren and Theo at my back. Bravely I reached out and knocked on the door, determined to find out more about what actually happened to Mildred.
The door swung open, revealing a salt-and-pepper-haired man who was classically handsome. A lot more so than I had expected. “Can I help you?” he asked, somewhat cool and collected.
“I was wondering if you'd answer some questions about Mildred?” I asked. I never knew quite what to do with my hands, so I clasped them together behind my back, just from the moment.
His eyes went from careful to curious. “Who are you to ask?”
“I'm Lou,” I said. “I moved into the open apartment above the shop.”
That seemed to catch his attention, and he looked me up and down. It didn't feel creepy, not really. He felt weird, but not in the sort of way I was scared of. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. He glanced behind me. “Who are they?”
“I worked at the shop,” Wren said, extending her hand to shake his. He didn’t extend his, and after a few seconds she dropped hers. “This is my sister, Theo.”
He grunted, a surprisingly loud sound. “I can't help you,” he said, as if that was that. “I wish you luck in your search.”
“Wait –”
The door shut in my face, leaving us on the other side.
“Well that was useful,” I muttered.
“C’mon.” Wren grabbed my arm and we headed back towards the car. I got inside, feeling somewhat helpless. The will reading was coming up and I had hoped to have more of an idea before then.
“I thought he’d speak more,” I said glumly.
Theo looked unusually guarded, like Yanis was a bomb she didn’t want to handle. “He's –” her lips tightened. “He's weird.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“There's a lot of rumors about him,” Wren answered. “I don't know which ones are true and which ones aren’t, but it’s best to just stay away from him if he doesn’t want to be friendly. Rather safe than sorry.”
Theo nodded her agreement.
“What kind of rumors?” Weird didn’t necessarily mean bad. Nor did rumors. Still, they were the natives here, not me.
Silence greeted that question. “What next?” Wren asked, sounding fake optimistic. If he wasn't going to talk to us, maybe we needed to talk to somebody else.
I turned to look at Wren, to see if she had any advice, but the wariness in her eyes caught me off guard. “What?” I asked, alarmed.
“What if she arrests you?” she said.
“Then I’ll be really unhappy,” I said frankly.
Wren didn’t look convinced, which didn’t reassure me. Theo at least looked neutral, but I was fairly certain that was her default expression.
“It won't be the end of the world,” I said firmly. “It’d better not be, anyway.”
“There’s a couple other customers, but I don’t know where they are nowadays.” Wren frowned. “Let me comb through my records,” she said. “I'll have some news for you tomorrow.”
Frustrated warred with anxiety as I sat there.
“Tomorrow will be better,” Wren said softly. “We’ll get there. We can’t do everything tonight.”
I scrubbed a hand at my eyes, tears suddenly prickling. I was tired and frustrated, and I just wanted the whole nightmare to be over with.
“Oh, Lou.” Wren hugged me around the shoulders. “Let’s go get some ice cream. It solves everything.”
Theo let out a short laugh from the back of the car, and even I managed a smile. “I bet you know a place,” I said.
Wren gave me a look. “Of course I do.”
Chapter Twelve
I stood in the back, more than aware of everybody's eyes on me. I didn't think they could stare any more than they already were, but it turned out I was wrong. Why, exactly, had I agreed to go to the reading of Mildred’s will? Oh, because I was hoping I could figure out who murdered her.
I wasn’t sure it was worth it.
“Do we have to be here?” I saw a small child elbow their mother.
“Shush,” the mother said. “She might have left me something.”
“Glad to know you have your priorities straight,” I muttered.
“Lou.” Wren nudged me gently. I was about to object when I realized she wasn’t scolding me, just drawing my attention to what was going on.
“Next: what to do with the coffee shop.” The bearded, grey-haired man turned the page with more gravity than was needed. I didn’t even realize will readings took place in the real world. Maybe it was a magic thing?
I felt sorry for whoever would inherit anything from her.
“The coffee shop is to be bequeathed to Samantha Dorman, or in Samantha's absence, her next of kin.” His voice was like he was at a funeral, final and precise but somber at the same time.
The world froze around me. Almost as a collective group, the whole crowd turned to look at me. That answered whether or not they knew who I was.
“Can you say that again?” I asked weakly.
The man seemed rather oblivious to the tension, and I wondered how local he actually was. “Samantha Dorman,” he repeated. “And in her absence, her heir, or next of kin.”
It felt like all the oxygen had been squeezed from my lungs, and I fought to get my breath.
“Is Samantha present?” he asked, surveying the room. He was definitely not a local.
“No,” someone said, although I wasn't sure who spoke. Tunnel vision had grabbed me, black spots dotting the edges of my vision as I fought not to pass out. It wasn’t happening. Mildred wasn’t leaving anything to my mother. She hadn’t even known my mother.
“Somebody get in touch with her,” the man continued, apparently oblivious.
“She's dead,” I heard Lettie say. I wasn't aware she was there, but I was grateful for it. Had she known about this in advance?
“Well, that does pose a problem,” he said, lips downturned. “Do we know her heir?”
The seated crowd turned to look at me again.
“That would be Louise Dorman,” Lettie said clearly, standing. She had been sitting in the back row, which was why I hadn’t seen her. “She’s standing right there, looking like she wants to disappear.” Lettie used a cane to point at me.
“Well, that’s solved, then.” The lawyer adjusted his glasses. “I’ll need some identi
fication, hmm, but we can do that later. Onto –”
I didn’t hear the rest of it, because I had headed for the door. No matter how much more there was to read, I had a feeling I wasn't going to be welcomed.
Millie stood up before I could make it out the door.
“This isn’t going to hold up in court,” she hissed. “You're not going to steal my future.”
“I have absolutely no intentions of stealing anything,” I said firmly, hands up as a defense.
“You probably forged the will,” Millie hissed, her eyes like slits. “I knew the whole ‘didn't know magic’ thing was a lie.”
“Let’s get you out of here.” Lizbeth’s voice was soft and reassuring, in my ear as she took my arm and steered me towards the door.
“How'd you do it?” Millie shouted, the bitterness overruling everything.
I made it out the door before I could hear the rest of it, Lizbeth behind me and Mocha’s familiar form appearing in front of me. We stopped just outside the building, leaving the noise behind us.
“That was unexpected,” Lizbeth said. The fact that she hadn't seemed to anticipate it, that it was surprising to her too, was something I found oddly reassuring. It felt less like it was a joke everyone else had been invited in on and I was just finding out in retrospect.
I could hear some hustle and bustle inside, and I had the feeling it wasn't a good sort of noise. I could hear Ethan speaking, placating tones. He was probably talking to Millie, keeping her from doing… whatever she felt like doing.
I swallowed thickly. “I never would have –”
“I know,” Mocha said, her voice firm and comforting. Lizbeth echoed the words, and some of the tension drained from my shoulders.
“The problem is, they don't.” If a dog could look worried, Mocha did.
“Did you have a part in this?” Lizbeth asked. I glanced at her over my shoulder, confused, only to see that she was talking to Mocha.
Mocha snorted, the look on her face obvious enough that Lizbeth could understand.
“I didn’t think so.” Lizbeth looked satisfied.
Mocha paused, looking distant. “Millie’s left,” she said.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“There's a squirrel who can see inside,” she gestured with a nod of her head. “She's been watching for me.”
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