The Mushroom Mystery

by Agnes Lester Brown

  Hazel’s voice was soft and solemn as she spoke. ”Grandfather Randolph, wise one, we welcome you once again in our midst. Please share with us your wisdom and insight for the forthcoming cycle, so we can be prepared and ready to be of service."

  Randolph cleared his throat and began speaking in a monotone. Lori had to concentrate hard to see her grandfather. There were no ghosts to practice on in Fennelmoore, so her ability to see them had become rusty. Her mind wandered to her admission application to Harvard Law School. Ever since graduating from college, she had worked at the Wholesome, first helping out Granny Fae, and then slowly taking over running the shop as Fae grew older and frailer. Lori had watched jealously as her cousins left Fennelmoore and reveled in student life at college while she stayed in Fennelmoore. As Lori grew into adulthood, she harbored growing ambitions that went beyond what Fennelmoore—or any number of supernatural encounters with her grandfather —could offer her. It was her dream to be a hot shot lawyer defending the innocent and ensuring justice was done.

  With difficulty, Lori brought her thoughts back to the solstice circle just as Grandpa Randolph raised his arms and intoned the last of his wishes for the family.

  "Be well my family. I wish you peace for the coming cycle." As always, he wore a small, enigmatic smile with his final words.

  The light above his head started fading as he spoke, and from the corner of her eye, Lori could see the twins already heading out of the circle. Then suddenly the light came back on, much brighter than before.

  "One more thing," Randolph said quite loudly, holding up a crooked, ringed index finger.

  Fae started to say something, but Hazel drowned her out with a cough.

  "I sense a darkness coming over Fennelmoore. Something far darker than you can imagine."

  Fae was getting more and more irritable. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Randolph, do you really…”

  Hazel coughed again, louder than before.

  "The fate of Fennelmoore will shortly be in the balance. There will be a collision of good and evil, and you—" Randolph waved his finger at the women, "—will be in the midst of it. Your skills will be tested. Don't forget your powers. Let the potions serve you." He looked at Lori. "You'll need to be extra strong, child." With that, he took a pair of weathered sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. The next moment there was a cracking sound, and the light that had surrounded him abruptly faded to nothing, leaving only the candle and moonlight to show the Whitewoods their way to the back door of the house through the darkness.

  “Well, that was quite melodramatic,” Lori thought as they all walked home. She wasn't much taken in by Randolph’s penchant for theatrics. On the other hand, on many occasions in the past, his forewarnings had turned out to be correct. But he'd rarely been this serious and mysterious about the future.

  "What do you think he meant?" whispered Aunt Hazel as she caught up with Lori as they walked home.

  "With what?" Lori whispered back, playing dumb.

  "The darkness, silly!"

  "Maybe there'll be a shortage of light bulbs in Fennelmoore. This town is hardly a den of boundless evil, you know."

  Hazel walked off in a huff to prepare mint tea for everyone, disgusted at Lori’s frivolity. For her, Randolph's gloomy prediction was a serious matter. She was convinced difficult times clearly lay ahead for them and their struggling little village.

  "Now, back to the Mayor's meeting," said Aunt Hazel with furrowed brows and a no-nonsense tone once everyone had gathered at the dining room table again with their tea. They all knew her well enough to refrain from making cheeky comments and kept straight faces as she spoke.

  "I say we go," Lori said, shrugging. “What do we have to lose?"

  "Seconded," said Rosie, her eyes on her cell phone.

  Fae shook her head in agreement. "Let's go. Maybe we can vote him out!"

  "We'll vote Gran for Mayor!" chirped Jasmine, and Fae crowed with laughter.

  Chapter Two

  The soft golden glow of the sun appeared on the eastern horizon when Lori woke with a start and sat up. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the bizarre dreams and weird images still haunting her even though she was awake. Her blankets lay on the floor, and only a thin, sky blue sheet covered her shivering body. Last night’s encounter with Randolph had affected her more than she was prepared to admit. She brushed her hair back with her fingers and rose stiffly, gathered some clothes, and went to the bathroom to wash up. She studied herself critically in the bathroom mirror while tying her hair back in a ponytail. To help chase away the demons, she put on a pair of tiny diamond earrings she’d bought herself as a treat when she turned thirty not long ago. Then she gave herself a huge wink, her favorite way of saying, you’re all right, kid. And with that, she was ready for the day.

  The house was still quiet at this time of the morning. None of the Whitewoods were early risers. In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of coffee and munched a handful of Aunt Hazel’s granola cookies. I need to clear out the cobwebs in my head. And the best way to do that is to go for a long walk.

  She gazed out the window past the last row of houses at the lush, green fields carpeted with yellow, white, and powder blue wildflowers that grew all around Fennelmoore. In the distance beyond the fields stood several of clutches of dense, evergreen forest. One of these patches of trees, Emerald Forest, was where the Whitewoods often gathered rare mushrooms and herbs for their potions. Inspired by what she saw, Lori put on her ribboned straw hat, grabbed an apple, a small blanket, a pen, and a drawing pad, then tiptoed out the back door just as she heard Aunt Hazel coming down the stairs.

  As she left the house, Lori turned right onto Clove Street and walked a block past the carefully manicured gardens in Cumin Lane up to where Fennelmoore ended and the open fields began.

  Once on the footpath, she walked with a spring in her step, inhaling the fresh air and basking in the warm rays of sunshine on her shoulders. A sea of colorful lavender, calendula, and echinacea blanketed both sides of the footpath and swayed gently to and fro in the breeze. Stopping for a moment, she picked a handful of the flowers she knew had soothing and healing powers, placed them behind her ears, and wove them into in her hair. After half an hour of walking along the narrow, meandering footpath, she reached a small clearing she regularly visited. She adored the breathtaking vista over the fields with Fennelmoore lying in the distance. This was her special, secret place where she came to contemplate and be herself, away from the busy household she lived in.

  She threw open the blanket and sat down, leaning her back against an old tree trunk. She sketched a few flowers and landscapes in her notepad before yawning and setting the pad aside. Squinting through half-closed eyes, she scanned the sky for a bald eagle. There were reports that a few pairs had nests on the nearby cliffs. After a few moments, an eagle soared into view. She held her breath and followed his flight as he drifted closer to her.

  Strange that an eagle would fly this low.

  Then the eagle said, “Morning, Miss. Are you okay?”

  The eagle wasn’t bald. He had copper brown hair that shone in the sun and the most riveting sapphire blue eyes she’d ever seen.

  Having grown up in a house where the supernatural came with the scenery, Lori didn’t scare easily. But right now, her heart was hammering in her chest.

  In an instant, she was wide awake and sitting upright. She glanced briefly at the sky. The eagle was gone. A tall, handsome man stood in front of her. Had the eagle been a dream?

  “I’m Matthew Heath, but you can call me Matt.” He removed the yellow glove he was wearing, revealing a suntanned hand and arm, which he held out to help her stand up. She ignored his assistance and got up by herself.

  “Lori Whitewood,” she answered, still shaken by his sudden presence. “What are you doing here?”

  Matt looked at the flowers behind her ears. “Pleased to meet you, Lori.” He sniffed the air. “Are you an herbalist?”

  “Yes. I mean, no,�
�� Lori stammered. She shot him a quick glance, noticing the large, worn leather knapsack he was carrying on his hip. “Why? Are you one?”

  Matt shook his head. “No, no, not at all. I’m a scientist. A botanist.” He smiled. “I’m a postgraduate student doing research for a project on scarce medicinal plants.” He waved his arm at the surrounding fields. ”And some of the best specimens in the country are to be found here.“

  ”Anything in particular?“ Lori’s curiosity was piqued.

  ”Nothing in particular. You know, just specimens of scarce types," Matt said.

  Dumbstruck, Lori shifted from one foot to the other. Generally, she didn’t have a problem dealing with and relating to strangers. But those eyes. They’re magnetic.

  Matthew Heath however carried on as if the two of them were old friends.

  “In fact, I’m so impressed with Fennelmoore that I’m thinking of suggesting to my faculty back in Boston that we have our next convention here. Our original venue fell through at the last moment, but this may be an even better option. He grinned. “Also, it’ll be much nicer here in the countryside, so remote from the big cities.”

  “Oh, really? That’s nice,” Lori said, gathering her blanket and notebook. “We can always do with more visitors who appreciate nature.”

  “My car is parked just around the corner,” Matthew said. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  “No, thanks. The walk and fresh air will do me good. Nice meeting you, Matt.” Lori turned to start back.

  “We probably have a lot in common, I mean being interested in plants and all. Can we meet for coffee later?” Matt looked at her hopefully.

  “No, I don’t think we have a lot in common. Scientists and herbalists don’t really speak the same language. Anyway, I have a really full day today. But good luck with your convention.”

  “If you change your mind, I’m staying at the Misty Hills Inn,” Matt called after Lori.

  Lori ran back all the way to the safety of Whitewood Manor. Once there, she sat down on the veranda steps to catch her breath. After she’d calmed down, she smelled the savory aroma of brewing coffee coming from the kitchen and got up to go inside.

  Aunt Hazel looked up, holding the coffee pot poised over a cup as Lori came into the kitchen. The other three members of the household sitting around the table were all still in their pajamas.

  “’Morning, Lori,” Hazel said cheerfully. Then her face grew worried. “Goodness child, you’re all flushed! Where have you been? Have you eaten anything? Here, have a cup of coffee.” She gestured to the cup she’d filled.

  “Child looks like she’s a witch who’s seen a ghost for the first time.” Fae cackled at her own quip.

  * * *

  “Who’d you meet out there?” Jasmine had a sixth sense that was always a little too accurate for Lori’s liking.

  Lori gratefully accepted the cup of coffee. She took a long sip before answering. “I went for a walk in the pastures past old man Harvey’s farm and brought these back for the shop.” She took a handful of leaves and flowers from her pocket and put them on the table. “And, Jasmine, why should I have met anyone out there in the middle of nowhere?” Lori said, doing her best to look innocent.

  “I don’t believe you,” Jasmine sang in her best falsetto voice.

  “Well, I bumped into this guy who was collecting plants.” Lori felt herself starting to blush in the presence of her two nosy cousins.

  “See, Jasmine was right after all. Did he ask you on a date?” Rosie said from behind her laptop screen.

  “No, of course not.” She clicked her tongue in disgust. “Don’t be silly. He’s a scientist, we have nothing in common, and we’ll never see each other again. He was from out of town, after all,” she added firmly, getting up to escape the conversation.

  “Wait, here’s an announcement from the Mayor’s office,” Rosie said suddenly and sat forward in her chair. “Mayor Riley is inviting all members of the community to a town meeting to save Fennelmoore from obscurity and ruin,” she read. “Don’t miss this meeting where Mayor Riley will be revealing his new master plan for Fennelmoore.”

  “We better attend so we can save Fennelmoore from our mad mayor,” Hazel said dryly. She motioned to Lori to sit down. “Let’s eat, shall we? The toast and eggs are getting cold.”

  After breakfast, Lori put in her earbuds, started up a Norah Jones playlist on her iPhone, and walked the two tree-lined blocks to the Wholesome. Normally, she’d be on the outlook for familiar faces working in their gardens, but today she was thinking about her encounter with Matthew Heath. He was just a stranger who snuck up on her while wandering in the fields outside town. Nothing more.

  Nothing more. Remember that, Lori.You can’t get involved with him. Not after last time.

  Two years ago, she’d met Hans, the Danish environmentalist from Sweden. They’d bumped into each other by chance after she come across him wandering hopelessly lost in the Emerald Forest, not far from where she met Matt. He swept her off her feet instantly with his tousled hair, angelic features, and off-beat sense of humor.

  And then they’d had that fateful dinner date.

  “Another glass of wine, Lori?”

  She giggled. “Are you out to seduce me? Just half a glass, thanks.”

  “You’re looking gorgeous tonight. And kudos for selecting this excellent restaurant. The food was outstanding.”

  She leaned forward and played with her hair. “I’m glad you like it. It’s a popular place in Fennelmoore for foodies. And, I know you appreciate good food.”

  Hans smiled and took her hand. “Oh, yes? What else do you know about me, Miss Whitewood?’

  “I know you thrive on being in nature. You appreciate the beauty and magic of forests…”

  Hans let go of her hand and leaned back in his chair. “No, no, magic isn’t for me. That’s mumbo jumbo. New age stuff is hogwash.” He shook his head. “Witches, magicians, sorcery… that sort of stuff doesn’t exist. I deal with facts and figures. Nature is, after all, nothing more than cells, molecules, and atoms.”

  Lori raised her eyebrows. “So, you don’t believe in the magic of life? Not even a little bit?”

  Hans contemplated for a moment.

  “Not my scene, at all. I’m a scientist, not a sorcerer.”

  Certain that Hans would run far away when he found out the Whitewoods were witches, Lori didn’t see him again. For a month afterwards, she’d cried herself to sleep every night.

  But apart from the fact that she was in no mood for being pursued by another scientist—and one who was probably also horrified by the idea of witches, she had an foreboding premonition about Matt. Did he have something to do with the darkness Grandpa Randolph was talking about? After all, the old man had pointed his finger at her specifically the other night.

  At the shop, she set up the trays of fresh flowers on the sidewalk. The rest of the morning went quickly as regulars came in to buy their weekly supplies of nuts and dried fruit, Aunt Hazel’s organic breads, and aromatic oils. A few inquisitive people browsed deeper into the shop where she kept the sachets of herbs and spices that could be used to make potions. However, most people were only interested in flavoring food dishes and using the packets for decoration, having no inkling about magic potions, not to mention the spells needed to make them work.

  Just as Lori thought she had a moment to sit down and catch her breath, the doorbell tinkled, and a large-framed man wearing an immaculate blue two-piece suit walked in. Everyone in town knew Nick Dupont, owner of the Misty Hills Inn. “Morning, Nick. The usual?”

  “Yes, please, Lori.” He nodded and placed a list on the table just in case she’d forgotten what he was here for. She and Nick had attended the same high school, though he’d graduated two years before she had. She liked Nick. He was solid, dependable, and rather handsome, although he’d put on quite a bit of weight recently. His wife had put him on a strict diet, and he was here to get his regular supplements. The two of them made small
talk while Lori gathered the items he needed. He was also going to the Mayor’s meeting, she found out.

  “And how’s the hotel business?” Lori asked.

  Nick’s face drooped. “We’re having a tough time,” he said with a sigh. “With all the traffic passing by without stopping in Fennelmoore, we hardly have anyone staying with us anymore. I hope the mayor has some sort of plan to improve business in town, else we may have to close our doors."

  * * *

  Lori looked at him with sympathy. He seemed tired and worried. She, too, hoped the Mayor had a good idea for turning things around.

  As Nick waved goodbye and disappeared behind a row of cars, her eyes widened, and her chest tightened. Matt stood outside the shop, smiling broadly and waving at her. She made an attempt to smile back but failed. Instead, she just nodded, acknowledging his greeting.

  Please don’t let him come in here now. I’m not ready for this.

  Lori gripped the counter and closed her eyes. She listened for the doorbell. A few seconds ticked by before its familiar, high-pitched ringing. She drew her breath and opened her eyes. Not Matt, but a teary-eyed young brunette with a baby stood at the counter, asking for a natural ointment to treat a bee sting.

  Chapter Three

  The town hall meeting’s venue turned out to be too small for the number of people that wanted to attend. The mayoral staff decided to move the meeting to the Misty Hills Inn, which had more space. The ensuing confusion and delay while Nick and his staff prepared a room meant Mayor Jonas Riley took to the stage more than an hour late.

  The five Whitewoods managed to find open seats in the very last row of chairs. Before sitting down, Lori scanned the sea of people sitting in the jam-packed ballroom. Families, young couples, local farmers, and many older faces had all come with high expectations that the Mayor would pull something out of his hat that could turn Fennelmoore’s fortune around. Lori waved and smiled at several people she recognized: old school chums, clients of the Wholesome, Fae and Hazel’s friends. She hadn’t seen such a buzzing gathering of Fennelmoore residents in a long time. At last, Mayor Riley got up from his seat on the stage and tapped the microphone. He had a round, jolly face and was always ready to share a joke and a laugh. Everyone in town knew him by his white flannel suit, Panama hat, and his droopy black moustache.