THE WITCH’S BEAUTY

Book Four of the One Part Witch Series

 

 

 

 

 

IRIS KINCAID

THE WITCH’S BEAUTY

Copyright 2018 by Iris Kincaid

All rights reserved.

 

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

 

Cover design by Kerri Knutson

Editing by Valorie Clifton

ISBN - 13:  978-1984268136

ISBN - 10:  1984268139

 

CHAPTER ONE

The gray hairs were coming in faster than Lorna Sinclair could pluck them out.

“I hope you’re not pulling them out,” her friend Melody remarked, standing next to her in their small employee bathroom. Melody was a sweet-faced woman in her early fifties. She was far from glamorous or fashionable, but was scrupulously well-groomed. “You should go to my beauty salon, Millie’s. It’s not the fanciest, but it’s really affordable. And she does highlights so well. Subtle. I’ll find her number for you.”

Lorna shook her head at her helpful friend. The concept of going to a beauty salon seemed ludicrous. She would be embarrassed to walk through the door and to give the impression that she believed anything could be done to help her look prettier.

No, she would accept her gray hairs. It was completely irrational to be so disturbed by them. For many other people, the signs of age signified the end of beauty and the end of hope. But those things had been stolen from her some thirty years ago, and that really should have been sufficient time to come to terms with their loss.

A horrific car accident and explosion at the age of twelve had taken the lives of her parents and left her face badly scarred and disfigured. She was lucky to have been spared, or so she told herself repeatedly over the years. But no one who loses their parents feels lucky. Her father was a musician, whose work had kept him on the road, and she had barely known him. But her mother was the one who had given her a sense of warm belonging and filled her with dreams and possibilities.

It was a pivotal moment in life, twelve years of age. She was just starting to pull her nose out of books and take notice of boys. Just starting to care about what her clothes looked like. Just starting to experiment with different hairstyles. And just starting to envision the day she would walk hand-in-hand with her first boyfriend.

In the blink of an eye, that parallel universe of a wondrous future was gone. In its place, nearly a dozen painful operations, a retreat into isolation and solitude, and the loss of all dreams, save the ones that came to entertain her unconscious mind in the dead of night.

That was where he lived, that too good to be true, imaginary man who didn’t care about what she looked like. Funny, but her dreams weren’t about being normal or beautiful. They were about finding a man who wouldn’t care, who would love her in spite of everything.

But that’s not the way Beauty and the Beast was conceived. The beast was a man, and the one who was capable of loving him, in spite of everything, was a woman. It never could have been written the other way around. Wasn’t every fairytale princess and heroine a jaw-dropping beauty?

On the one hand, those were just childhood stories. But at some point, don’t they sink in and become expectation? Lorna had no illusions. She had met sweet, compassionate, charitable men throughout her life—none of whom had ever given her serious romantic consideration.

Her greatest social sustenance in recent years were her coworkers, who had provided her with an especially comfortable haven at Oyster Cove Public Library. Truth be told, they were a bunch of misfits, the lot of them. Eighty percent of the staff had never married, meaning that Lorna wasn’t the only one who seemed destined for a spinster grave. She was well aware that her colleagues would strenuously object to the term spinster. It was a harsh, old-fashioned word, but apropos for a gut-wrenching harsh reality. Who wants to spend the entirety of their life crawling into an empty bed and waking up to silence?

Sometimes, Lorna would scold herself for being such a sad sack drama queen. Her colleagues seem to be happily reconciled to their nerdy lifestyles. Yes, they were a bit clothing challenged. A bit socially awkward. And they proudly paraded a multitude of old-fashioned and eccentric hobbies, such as Bridge played while wearing one’s latest ComiCon outfit! They created annual awards for their Pictionary and Yahtzee game night champions. But it was their very unhip strangeness that made her feel perfectly at home. All were a bit out of step with the larger society, and all were welcome. Bad clothes, good hearts.

The Oyster Cove Public Library was a far grander institution than one might have predicted based on the town’s modest population size. It was only about twenty years old and had been created with a grant from one of Oyster Cove’s wealthiest citizens, who, as luck would have it, was also a devoted bibliophile.

It was a sprawling two-story building with an additional facility across the street, connected with a glass bridge on the second floors. The main building was filled with a generous selection of over 250,000 volumes, ten meeting and study rooms, a dozen computers available, in addition to the computer lab across the street, and all the desks and comfy leather reading chairs that anyone could possibly want.

It also had a satisfying little glimmer of celebrity association. A handful of notable authors resided in Oyster Cove, and the two biggest names in town were regular patrons of the library.

Elliot Guest had the most impressive literary credentials, having won countless prestigious awards. He managed to avoid the sophomore curse—his second book was even more warmly praised than his first.

His third book was looked forward to with great anticipation by a national audience. It was coming out a bit more slowly than he would have liked because of his teaching commitments. He was a creative writing instructor at the local community college. Being a great author may bring great acclaim, but not always great wealth.

An exception to this rule was Stella Kirby, who had only written one book, and it had brought her enormous wealth, not to mention a humongous advance for her next book. Unlike Elliot’s highbrow artistic rendering, Stella’s book, the suggestively titled Lobster Bay, After Hours, fell into the realm of salacious gossip. She wrote about the affairs and scandals and crimes of the thinly disguised citizens of an artsy beach town called Lobster Bay. It bore too many resemblances to Oyster Cove for anyone to mistake her intention.

More disturbingly, or entertainingly, depending on one’s viewpoint, was the fact that all her major characters seem to be based on living people and their real-life foibles and entanglements. Of course, Stella would never want to be sued for libel, so real names were never used. But real initials were! It wasn’t that difficult to figure out who was who, although there were a few mysterious initials that were hard to match up and had Stella’s local fans clamoring for more information.

The two authors were not friends. They had briefly belonged to the same book club that met at the library, but Elliot soon found Stella’s influence intolerable. He’d watched the book club that he’d loved turn from a salon of artistic and philosophical discussion toward a tawdry den of gossip, with everyone fawning over that so-called author. The fact that Stella had earned thirty times as much as he had for their first books played no small part in his resentment. The book club was simply not big enough for the two of them, and he’d departed in an angry huff.

He still came to work in the library several days a week, as did Stella, but he did his best to stay clear of her, and the librarians did their best to keep the peace. After all, the public library should be big enough to cater to the widest variety of human personalities and needs. Although if pressed, just between themselves, none of the librarians was overly fond of Stella. Not only was she a bit loud and insensitive, but she also had this annoying habit of constantly licking her fingers to get them to stick to the pages as she thumbed through library volumes. Eesh! It was not a pleasant prospect for those who had to handle the pages after her.

*****

Sometimes, Lorna would go for an entire day without setting foot outside the back office. It was just such a safe retreat. Everyone was used to her, everyone was kind, no one stared, and she didn’t have to feel like a monster. Not that tactful adults would ever treat her like that, but they often did a double-take, which never failed to make her heart sink. And children were the worst. They are constantly pointing and asking their parents what was wrong with Lorna. The embarrassed parents would always shush them and say they would explain when they got out to the car.

But today, she really felt the need of fresh air. Just a little stroll around the block. It would only take about twenty minutes. Then she could buckle down and try to make headway on a bit of tedious paperwork.

It was a lovely neighborhood. Oyster Cove had a well-deserved reputation as a city of artists, and it was evident in almost every yard. Creative color combinations. Gorgeous gardens. Statues, fountains, murals, and birdfeeders that looked as if they belong in a museum. Elegant deck furniture, and bushes and hedges sculpted to resemble a wide variety of the animal kingdom. Whenever Lorna made time for this walk, she was always well rewarded.

As she returned and neared the library entrance, she saw something that should have warmed her romantic heart but instead filled her with sadness and despair. She saw a very plain, nondescript middle-aged couple walking back to their car. She had seen them before on at least half a dozen occasions. But they never saw her—they were too wrapped up in one another.

She had seen them gazing lovingly at one another across a study table, hands touching underneath it. She had seen them whisper to one another and the ecstatic response of the listener. It was so evident how lucky they felt to have found one another.

And now they were headed back to their car, hand-in-hand. What did it feel like to have your hand held like that? Lorna wouldn’t know. Her hands had been clasped in sympathy by a compassionate nurse. But never by a man. Nor had her cheek ever been caressed. Nor had her lips ever been kissed. That plain, unremarkable looking woman had all the happiness that Lorna had ever dreamed of.

But she would never have that experience of love—any experience of love. When she was younger, she could indulge in all kinds of fantasies about miracle surgeries and a face that allowed her to live in the world as an ordinary woman. She didn’t have to be a remarkable looking woman, as this fortunate woman was living proof. Finding tremendous love was within the realm of possibility even for an ordinary looking woman. But not for the monstrously deformed.

At the age of forty-two, she was close to the halfway mark in life. Her youth was gone, such as it was. It had been devoid of the giddy frivolity and romance that accompany most youthful phases. Instead, hers had been a life devoted to hiding in the shadows. She chose her profession very carefully. She would never have wanted to be a typical librarian, with all the never-ending contact with the public that it involved. But she very carefully developed her skill base to qualify for the administrative side, a role that would allow her to remain largely out of sight.

Just accept it! Just accept it! she told herself sternly. That will never be you. That grim, horrible resignation caused the tears to flow so heavily that Lorna failed to notice the kindly white-haired, older gentleman who had stopped beside her.

His name was Dr. Svenson, and he was a transplant specialist. Most of his career had been spent anxiously waiting for suitable organs to become available for his patients, who were in dire need of lifesaving operations. But this past year, his career had taken a turn that he never could have foreseen in his wildest dreams.

He had in his possession the organs of Lilith Hazelwood. In life, she had been Oyster Cove’s most powerful and fearsome witch. In death, she was one enraged ghost who was determined to uncover the identity of the villain who had engineered her untimely death. Whereupon, she would seek the vengeance to which she was undeniably entitled. While Dr. Svenson was not unaware that Lilith’s restless spirit was monitoring the destinies of her remarkable organs, he chose only to concern himself with the magical and lifesaving qualities of the body parts that were now his to bestow.

Dr. Svenson did not flatter himself that he was an overly sensitive or empathetic man. Often, he found the realm of emotions downright baffling. But there was no mistaking Lorna’s depth of pain. And as his eyes followed the path from her scarred face to the cozy scene of the love-struck couple, there was no doubt in his mind which remedy was required.

“My name is Dr. Svenson,” he said, trying to give her a moment to collect herself. “I’m a transplant specialist. I see that you have already had a number of operations. The extent of the burns is very severe. Who is your doctor?”

Lorna had spoken about her medical condition to so many doctors and nurses that this line of questioning didn’t feel strange to her. “Dr. Allison Gordon.”

Dr. Svenson nodded. “She’s very good. The best available. But . . . there are some experimental skin graft procedures and collagen extract serums that she may not have access to. In fact, I know with certainty that she does not have access to them. I have the feeling that you have been through a very long, hard road. Are you willing to travel one last mile to reach your destination?”

The physical pain of these operations and the emotional torment of the aftermath when Lorna discovered time and time again that her face could not be repaired . . . all of these failures were flashing through her mind as she contemplated the possibility of embarking on yet another hopeless quest. But what was it about this doctor? His confidence. His certainty.

“I don’t know if my insurance will cover any more operations,” Lorna whispered.

“Pro bono,” the doctor said firmly. “Tell your employer that you will need three days off. Talk to Dr. Gordon and any other specialists you’d like to confirm the success of my recent transplant record. And call my office tomorrow to schedule the operation.”

He left Lorna clutching his card in her hands as if it were an invitation to see the Queen, a Powerball winner, and Willy Wonka’s golden ticket all rolled up into one. Was this her dream of love and happiness, coming to her at her darkest moment of despair?

*****

“Skin grafts? Have you ever done that kind of thing before?” Dr. Svenson’s earnest young assistant, Ruby Townsend, asked incredulously. “I thought that you only did organs.”

“But the skin is an organ—the body’s largest organ. And it has been some time since I did a graft. Since before you came to work for me. But I don’t anticipate any difficulties. I have excellent recall and the mechanics of the operation are not difficult.”

“But the compatibility between this woman and our unusual donor—”

“It is because of our donor that I have such confidence. Have you noticed that of all the young ladies who have received organs from Lilith Hazelwood, none of them have had any rejection? None of them have had a failure. In almost all cases, they disobeyed my orders and discontinued their medications, and they suffered no ill effects.

“In the same way that someone’s blood type can make them a universal donor, Lilith Hazelwood’s body has a universal compatibility, a tremendous adaptive power to thrive wherever it is planted.

“At first, I was filled with hesitations and doubts. Now, I have a one hundred percent expectation of success. I know the burn can be repaired. I know it. As for the collagen extract, that is, of course, quite experimental. But these past transplants have given me every reason for hope. And while I know very little about this woman, I care about this result very much. When you meet her, I think you will feel the same way.”

Ruby nodded. She had seen miraculous things happen in the aftermath of these organ transplants. Though she and the doctor had bent every transplant law in existence, neither of them had regretted the lives they had been able to transform.

Lilith Hazelwood had become quite accustomed to her new bodiless existence, her death having occurred quite some time ago. She listened to the doctor’s plans with great interest. At the time of her very untimely death, she’d had the unblemished skin of a twenty-five year old, despite her ninety-two years, and the outward appearance of a woman in her late thirties. And a gorgeous appearance at that, owing to natural gifts heightened by magical enhancement.

As she watched the newest transplant patient, Lilith could see that this young woman could use all the help she could get. And if the operation was successful—and wasn’t Dr. Svenson the cocky one to take such credit for the magical strength of her body parts?—Lorna would owe Lilith a very great debt.

There was only one currency of repayment of any value to Lilith—revenge. She had been killed by a bolt of lightning. It was no act of nature but a weapon of the dark arts. Who had exercised it and cut her years short? Lilith fully expected to make it to 120 or 130 years of age. Perhaps longer. The immensity of her powers dwarfed those of any witch in town. There was every reason to assume that her longevity would have done the same. But now, she would never know.

The only thing she had to look forward to was finding out the identity of her nemesis and making sure they died a slow, torturous, and well-deserved death. And for that, she would need earthly assistance. Dr. Svenson was supplying her with a number of transplant heirs, one or more of whom she intended to press into service to help her claim of her vengeance. With that end in mind, she kept a hopeful eye on Lorna.

CHAPTER TWO

It was just as well that Lorna was still under heavy sedation when the doctor came in to check on her progress. His loud cry of surprise was not enough to wake her, and he was free to assess the transformation of her appearance at great and astonished length.

It wasn’t just that the burns were gone. They were—they had vanished without leaving the slightest hint of scar tissue behind. That was miracle enough. But equally striking was the age of the young woman lying before him. He knew her to be forty-two years of age, and yet if he saw her on the street, he would have sworn up and down that she was in the neighborhood of twenty-seven years. All indications of time’s passage had melted from her face. And if his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, didn’t she used to have some gray hairs?

But she was not only unblemished. She was not only young. She was beautiful. And while Dr. Svenson had not known her when she was younger, he had the distinct impression that this was not the face that would have evolved on Lorna if she had never been in that accident. She would have been a very pleasant, unscarred version of the woman he’d just met, but she wouldn’t be this gorgeous creature.

It wasn’t a new, unrecognizable face. It was recognizably Lorna but could best be described as . . . an upgrade. It was a variation of her appearance that created the greatest possible impression of beauty, almost as if she were her own prettier young sister.

The earlier transplant he had performed had taught Dr. Svenson to expect the unexpected. But the power of Lilith Hazelwood’s body never failed to amaze him.

Perhaps was making more noise than he thought. Perhaps she could feel his presence. Lorna was waking up a bit early, and the doctor knew that her shock would exceed even his own. As soon as their eyes met, Lorna reached up to tentatively touch her face. Her face filled with wondrous disbelief.

“I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel any scars.”

“The scars are gone, Lorna. Come. Come see for yourself.”

He gently took her arm and led her over to the large mirror over the sink in the small recovery room. Lorna let out a big gasp then covered her mouth in shock. Then uncovered it to see herself more clearly. It was the queasy sensation of looking into a fun house mirror and seeing a crazily distorted vision of oneself. Except, this was the opposite impossible reflection—a Lorna Sinclair she had only been able to dream about. A gorgeous creature who lived only in her imagination. Staring at her right this moment in the hospital mirror. She and this creature did have one thing in common—they both had tears running down their faces.

“How did this happen? I’m beautiful. And . . . I’m young. Like, super young. Like, seriously, crazy young. And even when I was young, I was never this pretty. And I was never going to be this pretty. This isn’t just the burns gone. Tell me. Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Are we all beautiful in heaven? But you look the same—which was very nice, by the way. Very distinguished. This is really happening, isn’t it? Am I going mad?”

“Calm down, Lorna, please. I was going to wait until after you were done with the swelling and the recovery. But I should have known better. These transplants always circumvent the recovery process. First, perhaps it is best to sit down.”

Lorna shook her head vigorously. “I’m afraid if I take my eyes off myself, then all of this will go away.”

“I think I can say with some certainty that these changes are permanent. Lorna, do you believe in witches?”

“Of course not. That’s just something kids make up to hurt each other. They used to call me a witch because my face was so messed up. And there were some older women in town who they said might be witches. But, I figured out that just meant they were women whom people didn’t really like.”

“That is a very rational explanation. The one I’m about to give you will not sound rational, medical, or possible. The donor for the skin graft and collagen extract was a very beautiful woman. She was also a witch. Her name was Lilith Hazelwood, and you are not the first person I have transplanted her organs into. The results have been nothing short of remarkable. I should say magical. They have the strength and a power that has no earthly source. And those powers are passed on to the transplant beneficiaries.

“You look very skeptical, which I understand. But take a close look at that face in the mirror. How old is it? Where is your swelling? Where is your pain? There is none, is there? Your skin is clearer than any I have ever seen. This is not a situation of burns healed but of burns vanished. And, by the way—no more gray hair.”

Until he had mentioned it, Lorna hadn’t noticed the absence of the gray. Which was mind-boggling enough. But the quality of the hair itself—it was a much deeper and richer color, as well as a silkier and shinier head of hair. She belonged in a shampoo commercial!

“A witch! A real witch? You’re a doctor. How can you believe this?”

“I believe because there is no other explanation. And after you have studied yourself in the mirror long enough, you will believe as well. Lilith Hazelwood was a witch. And now, you are likely to have acquired some rather interesting abilities, although I have no idea what you should expect. But on a success scale of one to ten, I’m going to call this operation a two thousand. Do you mind if I call in Ruby to see you?”

In a daze, Lorna nodded her consent. It was indeed a lot to take in. What Dr. Svenson knew she wasn’t ready to hear just now was that Lilith Hazelwood lived on as a ghost, that she would probably be keeping a very close eye on Lorna, and like The Godfather, Lilith would be expecting a favor in return.

The doctor left the door open as he headed down to the waiting room. Lorna’s gaze went from his departure back to the mirror. Still there. Why was she expecting the gorgeous image to vanish? Well, because she didn’t fully understand the parameters of reality anymore. But the doctor had said it was a permanent change. Perhaps she was just going to have to trust him.

She heard a self-conscious cough at the door. It was a young twenty-five-year-old male orderly with his mouth hanging open.

“Hi. I’m Luke. Everything going good for you? Anything I can get for you? Anything? Anything at all? Glass of water? No? So, what are you, a surfer? You look like you spend a lot of time on the beach. Like seriously healthy. No? Because I can appreciate staying in. Movies. Games. When you getting out of here? I’d be happy to work around your schedule.”

How surreal. What this young guy actually hitting on her? And was this what men actually said? Somehow, she always imagined come-ons to be a lot smoother. But perhaps she needed to cut him some slack. He was only about twenty-five. And it dawned on her that he assumed the same, that she was about twenty-five.

A second young fellow stopped by his side. “Hey, what’s the holdup?”

Luke elbowed his friend. “Dude, I’m busy.”

The second fellow caught a glimpse of Lorna. He immediately pushed Luke down the hallway. “You’re going to get fired, man. Mr. Grissom needs his insulin shots, stat. And it’s lunch time on the fourth ward. Don’t make those old folks grumpier than they already are. Get outta here.”

He turned back to Lorna with a big eager smile. “I’m Tim. I have a lot of friends in the kitchen. I can hook you up with anything you want. French fries. PB&J. Bread pudding. Huh, have you tried the bread pudding? It’s the real deal. Restaurant-quality. And speaking of restaurants, I know a lot of great places in town where we can catch a bite.”

Lorna didn’t even know what to do with all this attention coming from these excessively young men. “Thank you, Tim. But I think I have to recuperate from my procedure before I get my appetite back.”

“That’s cool. You get your rest. I’ll check back with you later.”

Time to get dressed and get out of here. It was difficult enough to process what had just happened to her without adding Luke and Tim to the mix. Best to shut the door and not attract any more passersby. As she stepped out of her hospital gown to quickly put on her street clothes, Lorna was struck dumb at the sight of her own nude body. The burns on her upper arm and left side had vanished. And the body itself looked as if her early youth had been fully restored—tight, toned, and downright perky. Abs! Honest to goodness abs.

The doctor and Ruby would be coming back soon. There would be time enough to admire herself at home. She quickly threw on her clothes, which all of a sudden seemed a bit drab, a bit too loose. And she caught sight of a large colorful bouquet in the corner of the room. Who could possibly have sent flowers? She hadn’t told anyone at work about her plans, only that she was going to be out for a few days.

There was a card. “Beauty is power. Use it wisely. I look forward to making your acquaintance. Delphine.”

Eventually, a wide-eyed Ruby helped Lorna check out from the hospital, helping to hustle her past a gauntlet of potential admirers and giving her a ride home.

Lorna had a nice long evening to ruminate on her good fortune. This was the beginning of a new life. A new young life. That it came from the power of a dead witch was slightly troublesome, but this was one gift horse she really did not need to look in the mouth. She was consumed with gratitude and excitement.

Those two young men at the hospital where a harbinger of things to come. She had always known that beauty and love so often went hand-in-hand. Now that she was beautiful, there seemed to be little doubt but that love would find her. Love that she had been waiting a lifetime for. She couldn’t wait.

*****

Lorna had already scheduled time off from work. She might as well take it, especially since it was going to be very difficult for her coworkers to comprehend her transformation. Plastic surgery was going to be the only potential explanation she could offer. Even so, her new appearance would be a hard thing to fathom.

It was a good chance for her to collect her thoughts and accustom herself to a new reality. From the hardware store to the grocery store to the dry cleaners to the coffeehouse, Lorna felt admiring eyes on her at every turn. A few of them couldn’t let the opportunity of meeting her pass for fear that they might not run into her again—or that some other man might attach himself to her before they had a chance to offer themselves for consideration.

“Liam. We’ve met before, haven’t we? No? Well, we should have. Do you like Italian?”

“Why? Are you Italian?” Lorna couldn’t help herself. These guys were practically drooling.

“I can help you to double your money in just ten years. I know a young lady like you isn’t thinking about retirement yet, but we can all do with a lot more freedom, am I right?”

“As a matter of fact, I did start playing with stocks just a few years ago. I actually have a nice retirement plan in place. This was just kind of a fun experiment—to see what I could do. It’s not going too badly.”

“Smart girl. I could tell. You’re a Gemini? No? Libra? Scorpio? Cancer? I knew it. I can always tell.”

By midafternoon, Lorna had lined up three dates and turned down four others. It was downright spooky the effect that she was having on men. It was an exhilarating novelty while at the same time, she was often attracting men she suspected were completely incompatible. When she mentioned that she worked at the library, a number of them said that they had never been in it. How can you trust a man who’s never been inside the library?

At the coffeehouse, Lorna found herself behind one of the most intriguing men she had encountered all day. He was having a discussion with the barista about some new environmental policies that were necessary to ensure the health of the oceans. He was thinking about starting a meet-up group of concerned citizens who might be willing to do a monthly clean-up of the garbage that washed up on the beach. He was passionate, smart. Lorna wanted to meet him.

“Name?” The barista asked.

“Max. Max Crowe.”

“Ah. You’ve got a lot of reward points building up. Next time, you’ll get a free drink,” the helpful barista offered.

Lorna planted herself closely behind him so that he had no choice but to bump into her. Which he did, according to plan. But he looked at her, grimaced, apologized brusquely, and went to stand several feet away to wait for his drink. How odd. And how frustrating. Particularly now that he had turned around and she could see that his dimpled face was as appealing as his mind. But why wasn’t he attracted to her?

An old woman using a cane made her way toward the crowd of people waiting for their lattes. “My car won’t start. I think I must have left the lights on. I do that all the time. But I’ve run out of AAA visits. Can anyone help me?”

Max sprang into action. “Of course, no problem at all. I have some twenty-foot jumper cables. You just show me where you are, and I’ll move my car and we will have you squared away in no time flat.”

The old woman glowed with gratitude and her helpful rescuer led her gently back toward the door. What a sweetheart. Lorna definitely wanted to make his acquaintance. He hadn’t picked up his drink yet, so he would be back. All she had to do was wait for him, play her cards right, and secure a date that was really worth looking forward to.

After about fifteen minutes, he did return. The barista had witnessed the good deed and promised to prepare him a nice hot drink. Lorna strolled nonchalantly over in his direction.

“That was awfully kind of you, helping that woman out. It would have been very expensive for her if she’d had to call someone without her AAA.”

Max shrugged indifferently. “It was nothing.”

Why was he so standoffish? And why did he have to have such beautiful eyes? “I heard you talking about environmental cleanup projects. That’s a fantastic idea. I would certainly love to do my part. Is there some way I can keep tabs on what you’re going to be doing?”

“It hasn’t actually gotten off the ground yet. There will be plenty of public notices when we get started. I’m sure you’ll see them.”

With that, he grabbed his drink and quickly made his exit. Lorna’s heart sank. From the moment her eyes opened after the operation, men had been falling all over her. What was up with this guy? Maybe he was married. Maybe he was gay. Maybe beauty wasn’t quite the cure-all that she had so long assumed it would be. What had she been thinking? Of course, every man in the world was not going to be at her disposal. She didn’t want every man. However, she did want the chance to get to know Max Crowe better. But clearly, that was never going to happen.

*****

It was time to head back to work. Lorna stopped briefly outside the entrance, going over what she was going to tell her colleagues. Sure, it was going to be a far-fetched story, but she certainly couldn’t tell them that she had been transformed by the beauty of a dead witch.

There were rows of flowers on the pathway leading up to the library entrance. But because it was so close to the parking lot, the exhaust usually choked the flowers and caused them to wither rather quickly. Lorna had often wondered why they bothered planting them at all. It was a bit of a downer to see them droop and turn gray like this.

Absentmindedly, she bent over to pull out a few of the blooms that had long wilted and dried up. They were ruining the effect of the display—best to pluck them out. Then, an occurrence both frightening and exhilarating occurred—at the same moment that Lorna saw the pink- and white-striped geraniums spring back to vivid color, she felt the hard, crunchy petals under her fingertips soften back to their velvety blooming prime.

Lorna almost squealed and nearly fell over. What had just happened? The answer was both obvious and unbelievable. She had just happened. She had just made that happen. Tentatively, she moved closer, studied the gorgeous flower amidst a dry gray landscape, and began to touch the others.

One by one, each flower sprang back to life—chrysanthemums, violets, and daisies.

“Aren’t those gorgeous?” Melody exclaimed directly behind her. “I was hoping they’d replace the dead flowers. Took long enough.”

“Hey, Melody.”

It was only at that moment that Melody noticed whom she was speaking with. And she was thunderstruck.

“Yes, it’s me, Lorna. Oh, I didn’t tell anyone I was out for plastic surgery—just in case things didn’t work out. That’s what happened. That’s what I was up to. That’s why I’ve changed so much. Absolutely brilliant surgeon. He not only fixed the burns, but he did a little nip-tuck along the way,” Lorna finished her prepared explanation. “Shall we head inside?”

Melody was still speechless. Lorna hooked her by the arm and pulled her into the library. On their way up the stairs and into the back office, they passed half a dozen employees. The other workers wondered who this gorgeous stranger was in their midst and then did a double-take when they realized that it was Lorna.

By the time Lorna reached the office, a gaggle of fifteen coworkers was crowded around her with a loud and rapid-fire stream of questions.

“You were only out for two days. How did you heal so quickly? My mother was covered up with bandages for weeks.”

“My surgeon was a real miracle worker,” Lorna demurred.

“I’ll say! No offense. You look as young as my nieces and nephews.”

“So, what did he do? Nose, chin, cheekbones?”

“Whatever adjustments he saw fit.” Lorna shrugged.

“Your skin!”

“I know.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Well, if there were a Nobel Prize for plastic surgery, then I guess my doctor would get it.”

“How did you find him?”

“It was a referral, from Dr. Svenson here in town.”

“I need his name. We need his name. I never thought I’d want such thing, but I really, really want to have my face done now.”

At least a half-dozen faces nodded vigorously in agreement. As Lorna well knew, Lilith Hazelwood’s body parts were an extremely limited resource.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that he isn’t available for any more surgeries here. He lives in Finland. I just got lucky that he was over here for a family thing. But he won’t be coming back and it’s not elective surgery. His services are very expensive. I just got extremely fortunate that he needed someone to try out some of his experimental procedures with. It was a professional challenge for him. Pro bono. If I’d had to pay, it would cost half a million dollars.” Lorna hoped that she had settled on a suitably prohibitive amount.

That was enough to turn most of their faces into disappointment. Although one older woman kept muttering about clearing out her 401(k). Lorna was taken aback. None of the others had suffered her disfigurement. But they still wanted so badly to be beautiful. Why? She had a good hunch—probably the same reason she wanted it—the near-certainty of love and romance.

The remainder of the day, Lorna reconciled herself to an endless stream of gawking and questions. She knew it would take them a little while to get used to her new self. Some of them even went so far as to call up the employees who had the day off and tell them that they just had to come in and take a look at her.

The end of the day came as a bit of a relief. As she was leaving the library, she noticed that the gorgeous flowers were still in bloom. It looked very much like a permanent change. Flowers. She was reminded of the flowers that she had taken. Flowers from Delphine. Dr. Svenson had explained that Delphine was a helpful friend to all of his special transplant patients and that Lorna should seek her out whenever she had any questions.

As Lorna stood in front of Delphine’s jewelry shop, she reflected on how she never would have dared set foot inside such a place before. She had never dared to buy pretty jewelry for herself. People would just look at her and see an ugly woman trying to make herself look better. Talk about lipstick on a pig. Those painful images and judgments of herself as an ugly outcast were still close to the surface.

“Come in, Lorna. I’ve been expecting you,” a kindly commanding voice directed her.

CHAPTER THREE

Lorna did as she was bidden. Inside was the middle-aged, friendly, no-nonsense Delphine Sykes. She looked like a kindly favorite aunt mixed with some very sharp, observant tendencies. In the greater scheme of Oyster Cove’s populations, she was one of the good ones—witches, that is. Lorna noted with relief that witches didn’t seem to be all that scary. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be so strange after all.

“So, you’re a witch,” Lorna began awkwardly.

“Sure. But that’s old news. Your becoming a witch is what you came to find out about, isn’t it?”

“I made dead flowers bloom.”

“They weren’t fully dead. They still had a spark of life left in them that was able to respond to you. You have a green thumb, for sure. Those flowers that I left for you at the hospital—your presence will keep them fresh and lovely for months. And eventually, they will dry to lovely perfection, like a beautifully arranged display of art.”

“Oh, that’s actually pretty nice. Is that it? I mean, that’s going to be the only big difference in my life?”

“That is far from it. The powers of beauty extend far beyond mere appearance. Some are spontaneous and unstoppable. Some require training and guidance and will only reveal themselves over time. That is where you will make use of me, if you choose.”

The changes that Lorna had already experienced were so vast that she would have been relieved to find out that there were no more surprises ahead. No such luck.

“My donor, Lilith Hazelwood. You knew her, I think. Can you tell me about her? Maybe that will help me to understand a little more about what’s happening to me.”

“Yes, tell her about me,” Lilith insisted. “And make it good. This is no time for complete honesty. This is no time for your cynicism, Delphine Sykes. It is important for this woman to feel an attachment to me. An indebtedness. Surely, you can remind yourself of some of my finer qualities.”

“So, you’d like me to avoid mentioning that you engaged in the dark arts to kill people whom you felt deserved punishment. That your powers were virtually limitless, and that your ego was vast, and that your thoughtfulness for others would not have filled a thimble?”

“Do not toy with me, Delphine. You’re so touchy-feely. You know exactly how to influence her in my favor. Now, tell her some good things. And instill some gratitude. I’m sure I can make use of her.”

“Don’t worry, Lilith. I can actually truthfully recall a few admirable qualities.”

“Hmmph.”

“There was nothing that Lilith couldn’t do. The entire community was in awe of her. Oh, some were resentful and jealous. But I regarded her as the pinnacle of achievement for our kind. I only have a fraction of her abilities, but it was instructive for me to know what was possible. It made me strive more, try harder, expect more of myself. I wish I could have learned from her more directly, but that wasn’t really her style.”

“I wasn’t a grade school teacher, after all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I never expected you to bother with the likes of me. But it would have been nice.”

“She was one of the loveliest women I’ve ever laid eyes on, as are you, my dear. She always reminded me of a sultry brunette, 1940s movie star. The men of Oyster Cove were hers to pick and choose from. I am sure that advantage has already come to your attention. How are you finding the men?”

This was something that Lorna hadn’t been able to talk about to anyone, certainly not her colleagues, many of whom were still in the dumps about not being able to avail themselves of miracle plastic surgery.

“There are so many of them!”

“You will have your pick. And while Lilith had little value for true love and devotion, I think you probably feel differently. And take comfort in this, that you will have all the love and romance that you ever dreamed of.  It is your certain destiny.”

Nothing could have made Lorna happier to hear. Even though that destiny had yet to unfold, every fiber of her being told her that Delphine was to be trusted.

“Speaking of love . . . I advise you to head over to Clarissa’s Clam Shack in the morning.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

*****

At ten o’clock in the morning, Clarissa’s Clam Shack hadn’t even opened for business. But the owner had weightier things on her mind than lunch specials. Lorna approached the shop entrance to find bossy, playful Clarissa cross-legged on the ground beside two large shallow boxes filled with tumbling, joyful, rambunctious kittens—at least eight of them.

“Free kittens,” Clarissa boomed. “Gorgeous specimens. Wonderful company on a cold winter night. Nice and quiet. The best gift you could ever give yourself.”

Lorna could only chuckle at the hard sell. “Where did you get them?”

“That is actually a strange and infuriating story. Someone left them in the dumpster behind my restaurant a few days ago. It was the same day for garbage pickup. They would have been crushed in the truck and dumped dead into the landfill. I get so angry every time I think about it. And I’m so grateful, so lucky, that there was some garbage from the night before that I needed to take out that morning. And there they were.”

It was an infuriating story. Lorna could hardly believe that anyone would do such a thing to these beautiful helpless kittens.

“I think I’ll find a home for most them today. It’s Saturday, lots of foot traffic. I’ll have one of my employees stay out here while I get lunch ready. But I think I may already have my first customer. How can you resist them? Aren’t they wonderful? And beautiful. Well, all except the one that isn’t.”

Clarissa was obviously referring to the runt of the litter. She was not only noticeably smaller than the others but rather sickly. She had patchy fur, a bad case of pinkeye, and a notable lack of energy.

“What’s wrong with her? She’s not dying, is she?” Lorna asked apprehensively.

“No. Well, not right this moment. But she’s probably going to have to be put down. I just don’t think anyone’s gonna pick her. And bringing her back to health will cost about two hundred bucks at the vet. No one’s going to want to spend that kind of money to save her life. Terrible shame. But that’s the breaks. That’s what happens to poor ugly kitties.”

“That she should have to die, just because she’s ugly? Just because it would take a paltry two hundred dollars to save her? Well, I’ve got two hundred dollars, and I’m going to see that she gets well. I’ll take her.”

Lorna would have judged Clarissa to be a rather cold, heartless character, but she scooped up the tiny runt with such gentle care and handed her to Lorna so lovingly that Lorna soon suspected an alternative explanation. She had been played.

“You weren’t going to have her put down.”

Clarissa tried to hide a smile.

“I’m such a sucker,” Lorna groused, but not very convincingly. She was already starting to feel a bit of an attachment to the little runt.

“The vet is just two blocks away on Seventh Street.” Clarissa winked at Lorna. “And try not to call her ugly right in front of her, like I just did. It’s bad for her self-esteem.”

Clarissa was just joking, but Lorna knew all too well about low self-esteem.

“So, I have a cat now.”

“If you’re ever in the neighborhood after ten PM, drop in and I will rustle up some fishy leftovers for that little gal. Now, go fix that pinkeye.”

*****

The veterinarian was first come, first served. Lorna’s appearance attracted a predictable amount of attention and admiration. But her poor kitty wasn’t admired in the least.

“Mommy, what’s wrong with that cat?” One loud brat demanded, wrinkling his nose.

“Shh. It’s very sick, honey. Maybe she brought it here to . . . end its suffering.”

“This kitten is here to rise from the ashes of cruel fate, like a Phoenix, and claim her right to health and happiness that all living creatures are entitled to,” Lorna informed them.

It was enough to shut them up.

An hour later, and a trip to the pet store conveniently located right across from the vet, and Lorna had acquired boxes of gourmet pet food, a collar, kitten toys, scratch posts, a litter box . . . More kitty paraphernalia than she had ever known existed.

She dropped everything off at her cozy beach cottage home, and gave the kitten a quick look around, who seemed to approve of her soothing cream and blue nautical style décor. When Lorna had first purchased the home seven years ago, she had kept it sparsely furnished and punitively minimalist. Short mirrors had been selectively angled to display her body from the neck down.

But at some point, she had decided that even though she couldn’t be pretty, that she could still have pretty things around her. Now, even though that was no longer how she felt about herself, she was still glad she had taken pains to create a lovely home.

And even better, she had a furry newcomer to share it with. It felt like a good day for a celebratory lunch. It had been a big week for both of them.

*****

Barcelona was a superb tapas restaurant with a large beautiful outdoor patio. The hostess had said that it was fine to have the kitten with her as long as they stayed outside. It was a perfect day. The deep blue sky was dotted with just enough clouds to give daydreamers a compelling shape to interpret. And the restaurant patio itself was a work of art—Gaudi’s art, to be specific. Every table was decorated with mosaics as a homage to the Park Guell that he had created in Barcelona. It was a little slice of artwork for every diner.

The patio also had its fair share of bachelors, all of whom were trying to catch Lorna’s eye, and a few who couldn’t resist boldly coming up to take matters into their own hands. But while they found the woman’s beauty mesmerizing, they had no kind words for her cat.

“A beautiful lady should have a beautiful cat.” And that was one of the more tactful responses.

What a nuisance they were. There wasn’t a single one whom she’d care to spend the afternoon with. So, though it was a relatively new skill to her, Lorna quickly became practiced in the art of the brushoff. There was surprisingly little guilt involved. If they had no compassion for a poor sick cat, she couldn’t be bothered with them.

“That is genius. That little kitty of yours is a jerk repellent. I may have to get one myself.”

Lorna turned around to see a gorgeous redhead, in her late thirties, dressed to impress in a flattering golden yellow halter dress, who had settled down at the table behind her. The woman stood up to take a closer look at the kitten.

“Where did you get her?”

“At Clarissa’s Clam Shack. Just this morning. She rescued eight little kittens from a dumpster and was trying to find homes for them. If you really did want a cat, she might have one left. But it won’t look like this one. The others were all kind of normal healthy-looking cats. This one was special.”

The kitten batted playfully at the redhead’s outstretched hand, and she scooped it up in an affectionate cuddle.

“She’s an absolute fright. She really will scare people away.” Despite the harsh words, this woman was clearly a cat person. Her gentle strokes were rewarded with a deep continuous purring.

“She needed a few medications, that’s all,” Lorna explained. “In a few weeks, she’ll be completely fine.”

“What’s her name?”

“Bella.”

The woman laughed. “You think that if you call her a beauty, she’ll turn into one?”

“I think she’ll feel better about herself if I call her Bella. And I think I should probably keep any mirrors up off the floor so she doesn’t realize that she’s not beautiful.”

Her new acquaintance was impressed. “And what is your name?”

“Lorna Sinclair. And yours?”

There was just a moment of hesitation before she answered, “Lexi Stokes. I can see that you are familiar with the name. Yeah, I’m that Lexi. Please tell me that you’re not one of those book club kooks.”

Lexi Stokes. Hers was one of the many names that had been thinly veiled in Stella Kirby’s gossip-ridden tell-all. One of the most memorable characters in it was a sexually adventurous woman with red hair by the name of Letty Silverton. Stella made no secret of the fact that it was a reference to Lexi Stokes, who immediately developed one of the raciest reputations in town. Lorna had read the book. It was a wonder that Lexi hadn’t sued the author.

“I work at the library, in the back office. And I work with all the book clubs, so yeah, I do know a lot of the book club kooks. And the weird, stupid thing is that my name is Lorna Sinclair, which are the same initials as Letty Silverton. So, for a while, I heard a lot of ridiculously bad jokes about my wild party life.”

“Oh, man. That’s not right. Someone ought to wring Stella Kirby’s neck.”

“Or at least take her to court. Didn’t all those lies make you angry?”

“Oh, they weren’t so much lies as they were nobody’s business but my own. Why does a twenty-first-century gal like me have to be worrying about the Puritans? Shouldn’t the Puritans all be dead?”

Lorna liked her. “The Puritans should be four hundred years in their graves.”

“Unfortunately, I run into one at the drugstore every now and again. And when I feel their beady eyes on me, I march straight to the front counter and order a super-deluxe pack of Trojans in the loudest voice I know how.”

The last time that Lorna had seen a Trojan, it was in a sex ed class when she was thirteen. Obviously, she and Lexi had led very different lives. How was it that she felt so at ease with her?

The waitress came over with two enticing glasses of wine, set them in front of the two women, and nodded at an enthusiastic man several feet away.

“He hopes that you ladies are having a lovely afternoon and will accept his humble gift,” the waitress conveyed.

The man tipped his hat as Lorna and Lexi looked over in his direction. He was actually rather good-looking.

“You want him?” Lexi offered. “I’ll give you first dibs.”

“Oh, he looks nice enough. Nice enough isn’t good enough, if you know what I mean. Where are the really amazing men, and not just talking about looks? I’m talking about amazingness.”

“Is that an actual word?”

“I was in a workshop on Shakespeare, and we were all encouraged to invent our own word, just like he did. That was mine. Amazingness. It’s self-explanatory. And it’s in very short supply.”

“Well, as you probably know too well, you’ve gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your—”

“Prince?”

“Toad. They’re either frogs or toads. Or salamanders. Don’t get your hopes up. Now, if you pass on our new friend Mr. Toad over there, I may give him a whirl. At least he has great taste in wine.”

“For your sake, I hope he’s at least a salamander,” Lorna offered. A new kitty and a new friend. It felt like a lucky day that wasn’t quite finished bestowing its blessings.

*****

Lorna had spent way too many lovely afternoons on her own back porch reading. It had been a peaceful and enriching way to spend the time, but it was also a way to allow forty-two years of life to pass her by with as little interaction with the world as possible. She was ready to leave that behind.

It was an opportune day to show Bella what a lovely town she was going to live in. Although most of Oyster Cove’s social action centered on the beach, it also had a couple of very popular shady green parks—perfect to get away from the tourist bustle. Perhaps Lorna should even teach Bella to climb up a tree—that was a major skill in the cat world—or let her chase squirrels, anything to get her some exercise and help make her stronger.

There were several play areas at the park. As Lorna approached one of them, she was greeted by the delightful sight of two twelve-year-old girls twirling a double Dutch jump rope, and the talented jumper in the middle was a grown man, doing a very impressive job of keeping up. What a fun guy. That’s the kind of guy she wouldn’t mind meeting. But as she got closer, she sighed in frustration. It was Max Crowe. The sight of her was enough to bring his jumping to a halt.

“Don’t stop. You’ve gotten so much better,” one girl encouraged.

“I’m not the one who has to practice for the competition. You’re the ones who need to get back to work,” he said firmly.

They good-naturedly took his advice and started jumping in very intricate and impressive patterns.

“Do they . . . are they on some kind of special team?” Lorna inquired.

Max seemed annoyed that he had been trapped into another encounter with her. “There are all kinds of regional championships for jumping. They’re already very good, as you can see. I believe they came in second last year in a very important event. So, there’s a lot of hard work to do if they want to come in first this year.”

Did he have a daughter here? Or a niece? And why wouldn’t he smile at her? His grimace did relax for the briefest of moments as he reached over to rub Bella’s head. Then he uttered a terse goodbye, and with a long, quick stride, disappeared into the park. Lorna cupped Bella in the palm of both hands and looked her in the eye.

“What have you got that I don’t? Huh? Would he like me better if I was a little furrier?”

It Bella couldn’t answer her questions, maybe she knew someone who could.

*****

Delphine took one look at the poor little diseased kitten and let out a hearty laugh.

“I send you out to get a familiar, and this is what you come up with? Aren’t you full of surprises?”

But like Lexi, Delphine’s callous words were accompanied by a cuddle and a tummy rub, further confirmation for Lorna that her new advisor could be trusted.

“There’s something I’m hoping that you can help me with. It’s not important. It’s not all that important. Except, it’s a little bit important. It’s actually really bugging me.”

“Could it, by chance, have anything to do with a man?”

There was no reason to hold back now. “Okay, so most men think that I’m pretty now. And so many of them keep asking me out. I actually have three dates lined up for next week, which is freaking me out a little. But for most of the men, I have to say no because there’s only so many days in a week. And also because so few of them truly . . .”

“Yeah, the guys who really do it for you can be kind of rare. But sooner or later, you’re going to run into one who is beyond special.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I think I might have already run into him. I’d sure like to get to know him better. And for him to get to know me, but he’s not at all interested.  I mean, not at all. I was hoping you could shed some light on that. This is the most ridiculous thing that has ever come out of my mouth, but . . . how could he not be attracted to me!”

Delphine chuckled. Beauty was always accompanied by a very healthy ego. And in the case of this extreme beauty, it was a valid question.

“If he is already deeply in love, or married, those things would certainly blunt your influence over a man. Which is as it should be. But those exceptions aside, there shouldn’t be a single bachelor in this town who is immune to your charms. Well, perhaps one. But as long as the name of this man isn’t Maximilian Crowe, there’s not likely to be a problem.”

The dismayed look on Lorna’s face told Delphine all she needed to know.

“Oh, dear. What are the odds? How can you manage to become fixated on the one man in Oyster Cove you can’t have?”

“Why? Why can’t I have him?”

Delphine sighed. “Because he is The Protected One. A powerful spell was placed on him at a very early age by his mother. She was a formidable practitioner of the dark arts and she had many enemies. She feared for him—not that he would be killed. His innocence would have shielded him from such a fate. But he could have been cursed, maimed, controlled, or used as an instrument to punish his mother.

“Eventually, she was killed by another witch. But before she died, she cast a protective spell over him that for all time would render him impervious to all magical influences. He cannot be manipulated. Cannot be compelled. His thoughts cannot be read. For the witches of Oyster Cove, he is untouchable. The Protected One.”

The son of a witch! Lorna hadn’t seen that coming.

“Does he . . . does this make him a witch?”

Delphine shook her head. “His powers are latent. He won’t be accidentally blooming any roses. It would take a great deal of formal study for him to tap into any abilities. And that is not going to happen. He wants nothing to do with witches.”

“But his mother was a witch.”

“He does not know it. But he does know that his mother was killed by a witch. He hates witches. And your beauty will not be enough to dissuade him. You must look elsewhere for your happiness, dear. Maximilian Crowe is a losing prospect.”

*****

With this disappointing news about Max, it was no wonder that Lorna should wake up with the beginning of a minor headache. Actually, it was so much more than a headache. She was feeling warm, and her head felt heavy and difficult to move.

As she reached up to check her temperature, she could only laugh at her own internal drama. Yes, her head wouldn’t be nearly so warm if there weren’t a cat sleeping on it. And she had gone to the trouble of buying a sweet little kitty bed. When Bella objected to the bed being on the floor next to her, Lorna had moved it to the adjoining pillow area on her queen-sized bed.

But this was one needy kitty. Leaving her at home all day while Lorna was at work wasn’t even a remote possibility. Thankfully, she had sold her supervisor and coworkers on the idea of an office kitty. Bella would never be inside the main library, only in the large back administrative office. Melody had very helpfully pulled up several research articles that confirmed that pets at the office made for a happier and more productive environment for all concerned. Who could argue with science?

Lorna bought an additional scratching post for the office to make sure that Bella wasn’t going to make a pest of herself. On the contrary, she received a big welcome. Everyone loved to stop by their cubicle for a little bundle of exuberance in the afternoon. And for her own part, Bella was in heaven. Soft fabric cubicle walls to scale, file cabinets, counters, nooks and crannies to hide in, and new friends galore. Her looks were recovering only slowly, but no one could tell Bella that she wasn’t the queen of the office.

There were various library duties that were in rotation. One of them was to go around as the library was closing up, gather all the books that customers had left scattered all over the tables and desks, and to re-shelve as many of them as possible.

On occasion, they also had to wake up a few sleepyheads. The library was open until nine PM, and sometimes, people would gently nod off. The announcement of closing over the loudspeaker was enough to jar most of them into wakefulness. But now and again, they needed some one-on-one assistance.

Lorna had this evening’s duty of sweeping through the library and reminding everyone that it was time to go home. She had never done it before because it just involved too much contact with the public and too much painful self-consciousness about her face. So, her supervisor and the other librarians had never asked her to do it. But tonight, it seemed like a fine idea.

Stella Kirby appeared to have succumbed to the late hour. She was an older woman, after all, almost seventy, from all appearances. Lorna hoped that she wouldn’t be embarrassed to have to be woken up.

“Ms. Kirby. Ms. Kirby. The library is closing in five minutes.”

Ms. Kirby did not move. She was going to require a little pat on the shoulder. But there was no response to the little pat. Lorna was going to have to shake her awake. Unfortunately, this caused Stella’s cold, lifeless body to fall to the floor. Her face was frozen in a hideous expression and her tongue hung out of her mouth, blackened and swollen to a grotesque size.

Lorna’s screams brought every librarian in the building and every remaining customer to gather in a horrified crowd around the dead woman. None of them were doctors. None of them were forensic specialists. But you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist—this woman had been poisoned.

CHAPTER FOUR

 

The library was closed until further notice. Inside, the employees were gathered in a frightened huddle. They had been informed not to go to their offices, not to log into their employee accounts, and not to touch anything, but to simply wait their turn for the police to take their statements, a process which was taking place in the soundproof, glass-enclosed study room, right along the main wall on the second floor. It was disturbingly close to the table where Stella had met her end.

The body was long gone. The forensic team had been busy all night long. They had carefully removed every item on Stella’s table, including several library books and newspapers, as well as her purse and personal items. The “table of death” was still cordoned off with crime scene tape.

Their initial findings quickly isolated the problem to the pages of a book. The poison was on the pages of a book that Stella had thumbed through, licking and turning pages, as was her habit. The book was Fair Weather Friend, the breakthrough debut novel by Elliot Guest, Oyster Cove’s other star author.

Lorna was still a bit shaken up. And some of her coworkers were truly freaking out. Poisoned book! How could that have happened? Were there more poisoned books? Were they all in danger? This was going to terrify the customers. Maybe everyone would stop coming to the library.

An attractive, dark, curly-haired officer appeared to be in charge of the investigation—Officer Finn Cochran.

“Okay, listen up. We’re going to take you one by one into this . . . what is it, a study room? Soundproof, very nice. I will be going to ask you a lot of questions. We need your cooperation, because this library will not open until we’ve had a statement from everyone. There is a murderer out there, and all of Oyster Cove will be able to rest a lot easier after they are caught. So, please let us know anything you think might have some relevance to this investigation.”

None of the library employees had really liked Stella. She was egotistical, insensitive, and generally annoying. But no one on staff hated her like Miles Weston. A thin, intense, man in his mid-thirties, who would never be caught without hand sanitizer, he had expressed revulsion for her finger-licking-page-turning habit on dozens of occasions.

“Do you know how many germs there are in human saliva? She could be making people sick. Just the thought of it makes me ill. Someone should stop her. Someone should do something about this.”

Perhaps that was why so many of his colleagues were glancing surreptitiously at him this morning. Miles felt the weight of their suspicion, and his indignation quickly gave way to genuine concern. Of course, all of his colleagues were going to tell the police how much he hated Stella. All the times that he had railed against her and said that someone should do something about her . . . This could look bad. Guilty bad.

Lorna was one of the last people interviewed by Finn Cochran. He was momentarily taken aback by her beauty. She sure didn’t look like any librarian he had ever seen. But he was far more interested in her knowledge and her truthfulness.

“Fair Weather Friend. Are you familiar with this book?”

“Every librarian here has read Elliot Guest’s first book. And his second as well. He’s a big celebrity author for our little town.”

“If you had to guess, would you say that this book was randomly chosen by the killer, or were they trying to make a point? What sort of relationship did Stella Kirby have with Elliot Guest?”

“Not a very good one, I’m afraid. They didn’t like one another. They both belonged to the same book club at one time, and they had very sharply contrasting personalities, I heard. Their books are so different, and they couldn’t really appreciate one another.

“So, Mr. Guest eventually left the book club. He was still a frequent library patron, although I believe she tries to—tried to—get under his skin by reminding him how much she was getting for her next book advance. I gather it was a lot more than he was getting for his.”

“It sounds like this Elliot Guest is someone I would very much like to have a conversation with,” Finn noted.

“I . . . I hope you don’t think that I’m trying to imply that Mr. Guest could possibly have had anything to do with this.”

“It’s a little too soon to assume anything. So, they were not exactly friends. Any reason she’d be reading his book? It came out quite a few years ago. Why was she reading it right at this moment?”

“That is very odd. I don’t think either wanted to give the other the satisfaction of reading the other person’s book.”

“Who kept tabs on her reading list? Who would know what she was working on, what she’d be up to?”

“She did have an assistant, but I don’t know his name.”

“Apparently, the book was not checked out. What does that tell you?”

“Well, we probably have a dozen copies of this book, because it was written by a local author. But it looks as if this particular copy hadn’t left the library. At least, not recently.”

“That’s right. That in all likelihood, the poisoning took place here. Who had opportunity? They say that she sat at the same table every day, right in the middle of this big room. No one would’ve had the opportunity to do it so openly.

“So, it had to be someone who knew she was going to use that book—this very particular copy—and did it while they were in the aisles and no one was looking. Or, it happened before or after the library was open, which seems to point to one of the employees. What do you know about Miles Weston? I’m getting the impression that he was not a Stella Kirby fan.”

Oh, no. Miles may have had a few . . . issues. But he was a very sweet, goodhearted guy. “Miles is a germaphobe. I guess you already heard that. He’s in therapy for it and he’s gotten so much better. He used to want to wear plastic gloves all the time, but our patrons found that a little strange, and the supervisor asked him to stop.

“She was also the one who talked him into therapy. And at the end of the night, the stray books have to be gathered and put back on the shelves. Books full of, you know, fingerprints and germs. That used to be something he hated to do. But then that became a therapy assignment too, and now he’s the one who does it most of the time—to help him overcome his aversions.”

“Miles Weston is the one who goes around and takes the books that people have been using and puts them away,” Finn said pointedly.

No, no, no. Lorna had not meant to make Miles sound guiltier. “Of course, he’s not the only one who does it. We all take turns.”

Through the glass walls of the study room, Lorna could see other librarians furtively looking at Myles, who looked miserably aware that his colleagues were having their doubts about him. The distress of the staff was palpable. Their peaceful haven had been taken from them. For many of them, this library was their true home. And they had become a family to Lorna, they really had. She had to help them get their home back, one way or the other. This murder had to be solved. And the police were definitely on the wrong track.

“Officer Cochran, have you ever read a book called The Name of The Rose?”

“Never heard of it. Why?”

“Because in it, someone was killed exactly the way Stella Kirby was killed. They licked and fingered their way through poisoned pages. It’s a classic, by Umberto Eco. I think there’s a possibility that the killer might be familiar with the story.”

“That’s interesting. You think we’re going to be able to find someone who took that book out of the library recently? And then got inspired? Got some crazy ideas?”

“I think you’re going to find thirty-six people who read it recently. It was a book club selection, the same book club that Stella Kirby was in. They informed me about all their selections so that I could gather as many copies from the interlibrary loan system as possible in advance. A lot of people were on tight budgets and needed to get their books from the library. So, everyone in the club has read The Name of The Rose.”

“Thirty-six people. That’s a whole lot of people.”

“The leader of club is Celeste Piper. I can get her contact info for you, if you’d like.”

“I would like very much. Ms. Sinclair, I can see you’re going to be an extremely useful resource. I’m going to ask your supervisor if I could borrow you for a few days. I need a little insider insight into this library community. Introduce me to this book club, keep me informed about all of Stella Kirby’s frenemies, give me access to any library computer records we may be needing, and come up with stuff that I never would have thought of in a million years. Name of the Rose. Very nice. What do you say?”

“I don’t know if my supervisor would let me.”

“If I bargain with her and tell her that the library can open up as soon as this afternoon, in exchange for your assistance, I have a feeling she’ll say yes. What do you say?”

The sooner this murder was solved, the sooner Myles was off the hook and the sooner peace was restored to the Oyster Cove Public Library.

“Yes. Of course, I’ll help.”

To everyone’s great relief, the library was opened by two PM. Normalcy was somewhat restored, but word had gotten around the town, and not a lot of library patrons were prepared to venture in.

As soon as the police left, Miles couldn’t wait to scrub down the “death table” with some strong bleach. No one had a great interest in handling books. The chatty sociable back office became deadly quiet.

Lorna’s heart went out to her colleagues. She certainly didn’t want to tell them on such a sad and morbid day that she had a date that night. A rather important date, simply for being the first date of her life.

*****

They met at Verona, a well-established Italian restaurant right across from Barcelona. Liam, the astrology-loving stock trader, assured her that it was one of the best places in town. Though she was a bit jittery over what they would talk about, it was nice to know they’d be able to fall back on a common interest in the stock market. It might even turn out to be a real bonus for her to talk to someone with professional expertise in the subject.

But it was also important to connect on a few other levels as well.

“Do you like to go to any of the art festivals?” Lorna asked.

“No, that artsy-fartsy stuff really isn’t for me,” he said, making a face.

“Do you like the beach sports—boating, sailing, fishing?”

“Nah, no time for all that. I spend a lot of time working, you know.”

“So, what do you like to do in your free time?” Lorna said, just trying to keep the conversation going.

“I like to watch the games. You like to watch the games?”

“Every now and again. My coworkers do throw a big Super Bowl party every year, so I go to that. Lots of good food, but most of us are clueless about what’s happening in the game. It’s all about the food. And the halftime show.”

“Maybe this year, you can watch with me. You a good cook? My friends appreciate a nice big spread.”

Did he just invite her to come and cook a big party spread for his friends? Moving right along . . . “So, I’m not at all asking for insider information. But got any stock advice for me?”

“I know a place where you can get a lot of tips. It’s a monthly meeting of amateur traders. We share all kinds of tips. That reminds me—the funniest thing you ever want to see. This young chubby girl started showing up, maybe fifteen, sixteen. Real quiet. I thought she had come with her dad, but she came alone.

“And get this—she’s been investing for three years. Got five hundred dollars when her grandpa died, and she’s turned it into seven thousand dollars. I mean, it’s a complete fluke and she probably doesn’t have the slightest idea what she’s doing. None of us are getting those kinds of returns.”

“What stocks did she pick?”

“I can’t ask a kid that! Like she knows better than me.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know. Who cares? She’s just this fat kid who got lucky.”

Lorna couldn’t end the evening quickly enough.

*****

Finn Cochran had asked Lorna to meet him at the police station at ten AM. Feeling a little edgy, Lorna was in the waiting room twenty minutes early. There were three other people in the room who also appeared to be waiting for Officer Cochran. There was a young male twenty-something hipster in requisite skinny jeans, arms proudly adorned with elaborate tattoos, a high-volume beard, and glued to his cellphone. A young woman of thirty-two, dressed in frumpy, old-fashioned clothing. She’s probably got a nice figure under there somewhere, Lorna mused, but she is dressed worse than most of my geek friends at the library. And a middle-aged man with a briefcase full of formal looking documents. Definitely a lawyer.

He and the young woman were speaking quietly.

“A multiple-estate transfer doesn’t require a lot of additional work. I can draw up all the paperwork by next week.”

Finn Cochran strolled into the waiting room at 9:50 AM and was pleased to see that everyone was there bright and early.

“That’s what I like to see. Anybody want to grab a coffee? It’s actually good stuff. We get our beans from Café Au Lait.”

“Oh. In that case . . .” The young hipster leapt to his feet and headed for the coffee pot. The lawyer sheepishly joined him.

“All right now. Everybody follow me, and we’ll see what we can come up with,” Finn ordered cheerfully.

After they were all comfortably settled in the small conference room, the introductions were quickly dispatched. The young man’s name was Shane Whittle.

“She called me her assistant. I was really just her techie. I opened up all of her social media accounts—she was kind of clueless about all that. Helped to set up her online banking, figured out all the Word and Doc programs and formatting. I worked for her for about two years. And I don’t know if this is a good time to bring this up, but she owed me over two weeks’ back pay. Plus, she promised me holiday pay, and I think I’m entitled to half that amount.”

Stella’s lawyer responded, “I’m going to have to look at your contract with her and a statement of payroll before I can make a recommendation to Stella’s executor and beneficiary. That would be Ms. Daisy Kirby here.”

The young woman shrugged incredulously. “Yes, which is insane. Because I barely knew her, and I don’t know why she gave me her estate. We only saw each other a few times in life, at big family gatherings, weddings, and funerals. And our encounters were always weird and unpleasant. So this doesn’t make any sense.”

“I do see that you are the sole beneficiary, Ms. Kirby. Stella had some serious dough, though. That’s got to be nice,” Finn observed.

It’s also a pretty obvious motive for murder. Stella’s lawyer, who was clearly now Daisy’s lawyer, wanted to shut down that line of thinking.

“Officer Cochran, I see what you’re thinking. Rest assured that until I contacted Ms. Daisy Kirby here yesterday, she was completely unaware of the bequest. Which I would be happy to swear to under oath. Stella Kirby took pleasure in the thought of surprising relatives with her final will and testament. She knew that a lot of them would be furious and was delighted at the prospect. I confess, not the nicest person to work for.”

“Tell me about it.” Shane snorted. “So, can I get paid?”

The lawyer shook his head. “As I said—”

“What did she owe you?” Daisy interrupted.

“Three hundred dollars for the back pay. And five hundred dollars for the half-year bonus.”

Daisy briskly pulled out her checkbook and started scribbling away. “No reason her debts shouldn’t be settled honorably.”

“Very nice.” Finn nodded approvingly. “Now, Shane, this computer is locked out. Can you get us in? Supply passwords and all that. Great.”

While Shane tackled the computer, the lawyer turned to Daisy.

“In the meantime, I hope you’ll consider the suggestion I made yesterday—a small family burial this week, and a delay of the public memorial for three or four weeks to accommodate her regional fan base. There’s quite a large number of people who want to pay their respects. Now, here are the house keys and . . . I will be in touch very soon. Officer Cochran, anything else?”

“No, you’re good. Thanks for coming in.”

Finn turned to Daisy. “Keys, huh? That’s going to come in handy. You going to be able to give us a tour of Stella’s house?”

Daisy made a face. “It’s almost like something out of Hoarders. You want to look around, be my guest. I’ve got to get inside to find photos for the memorial service. So just tell me when.”

Shane was working at the computer. He pulled a flash drive out of it and popped it into his pocket. “Whenever you head over to Stella’s, could you give me a call? I left a thermos in there. It was a pretty sweet thermos. Okay. Here you go. Here’s the password to get in, and here’s a master list of all her accounts and passwords—social media, financial, everything.”

“Perfect. Say . . . what did you just pocket?”

“Oh, that’s just the flash drive. It’s got a copy of everything that’s on Stella’s desktop. But we never wanted to have her master list of passwords there—for security. But I just put it there now so you could have it. Why? You want the flash drive? I don’t see why I would need it. My work with Stella is done. Here you go.” He pulled it back out of his pocket and put it on the table in front of Finn.

Finn examined the device. “I appreciate it. Thanks for coming in.”

Daisy was looking increasingly agitated. “Everything okay, Ms. Kirby?” Finn asked.

“There’s just so much to do. What do I know about being an executor? Funeral now. Memorial later. Dozens of people to call. Death certificates. Newspaper. I don’t know what to do first.”

An elderly colleague of Lorna’s had died about six months earlier, and she had lent a hand in a lot of the arrangements. She felt sorry for Daisy, who was clearly overwhelmed.

“Flowers. I can show you a place that has great displays. And I can walk you over to the funeral home. You show them the receipt for the flower place and the two of them will coordinate.”

Daisy let out a big grateful exhale. “That would be extremely helpful.”

“No problem,” Finn said. “You go take care of that, and then you and I meet with Elliot Guest at two o’clock for coffee. He’s not really a come down to the station kind of guy. And plenty of time before five PM to get over to the library to meet with Ms. Book Club.”

“That sounds fine. See you at two o’clock,” Lorna said.

As Finn watched the two young women walk away, he remembered that Lorna had barely said a word in the meeting. But she also looked to be one of the keenest observers he had ever seen. Good thing, because most cases are hard to crack without a good civilian ally. And this case had him good and stumped.

CHAPTER FIVE

As they walked along the Main Street, Lorna could see that despite not really having a relationship with her great aunt, Daisy was nonetheless in the dumps. Perhaps she was feeling the added burden of guilt for not grieving sufficiently over the loss of a dead relative and benefiting financially from the death of a woman she didn’t even like. Her general air of melancholy reminded Lorna of her own unhappiness before the operation.

“Did you know her?” Daisy asked.

“No. Only secondhand stories. It was I who found her.”

“How awful. I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s upsetting, isn’t it? I had to view the body last night. Her eyes were still open. And her tongue . . . so swollen because of the poison. Even though we weren’t close . . .”

“It’s still very upsetting,” Lorna sympathized. “Did she make any arrangements about a burial plot?”

“I’m pretty sure she bought a plot alongside her sister, Mina. At least that’s taken care of.”

Lorna didn't want to dampen Daisy’s spirits any further, but she might not get another opportunity to ask. “I know you didn’t know Stella well, and forgive me for asking, but did you know anyone who might have hated her so much that they would have done this?”

“Well, maybe no one whom she knew directly. But as you probably heard, not everyone enjoyed that book of hers. It was wrong of her to include real people’s lives. She may have offended the wrong person.”

“I did read her book. You may be right. Here’s the flower shop.”

In the shop, Lorna and Daisy waited patiently at the counter while the owner finished up a phone call. Lorna absentmindedly brushed away a shriveled violet on the counter and then was horrified to watch it spring into full youthful blossom.

Thankfully, Daisy was preoccupied with looking at the flower displays on the wall. Lorna quickly swiped the violet to the floor.

“This is kind of beautiful, don’t you think?”

She was standing in front of a striking navy, turquoise, and purple garland. Lorna patted her on the arm.

“It’s wonderful. It really is.”

Daisy sighed with relief. Lorna’s mind returned to Stella’s controversially cruel tell-all. It certainly had angered a lot of people. She was going to have to bring it to Officer Cochran’s attention. Not something she was looking forward to, considering that all Oyster Cove residents it referenced would become suspects. Including her new friend, Lexi Stokes.

*****

The Grand Hotel was truly worthy of the name. It was the most deluxe facility of its kind on the boardwalk. Its restaurant, bar, and tea room had such highly praised reputations, it was quite possible that it made more money on those assets that it did on its actual rooms. Elliot Guest enjoyed the highbrow atmosphere. He had insisted on meeting Finn Cochran and Lorna in the tea room.

Elliot looked like the very picture of a college instructor—a navy jacket in a light summer cloth and a buttoned-up shirt and tie. He had just finished teaching one of his summer courses that morning. Still, he bristled when Finn referred to him as a college teacher.

“I am an author. Being an instructor is not my profession. Well, it’s almost an act of philanthropy. It’s my duty to share my experience and wisdom to cultivate the next generation of authors.”

Lorna and Finn exchanged glances. This man could not be more full of himself.

“Of course, the teaching money’s gotta come in handy. You got a twenty-thousand-dollar advance on your last book. Which is sweet. But not enough to live on, is it? Even though you’ve gotten so many awards. People’s priorities are kind of screwed up, right? That Stella Kirby wrote pretty lowbrow stuff, and she got a half-million advance for her next book.”

Elliot shuddered. “It was tabloid trash, for heaven’s sakes. Did you read it?”

Finn shook his head. “Not really my kind of thing.”

“Nor mine,” Lorna said. “But I did read it. All the librarians did. We really had to as a courtesy to our local authors. But it wasn’t in the same league with your books, Mr. Guest. Not even close.”

Elliot’s ego was soothed, but only momentarily. “Half a million dollars. You see the sheer injustice of it—the literary world rewards her nonsense and parcels out stingy pennies to serious literature.”

“Did you know Stella Kirby well?”

“As well as anyone would wish to know her. Which is to say, one didn’t have to be acquainted with her for very long to know her company should be avoided at all costs. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but there it is. One of the most unpleasant women I ever hope to encounter.”

“Maybe she liked you a lot better than you liked her. Maybe she was a big fan of your books. Fair Weather Friend was the last thing that she read before she died.”

“Oh, well that’s rather touching, I suppose. To know that she ended life on a slightly more exalted level of artistic consumption.”

“One order of exalted artistic consumption to go, hold the poison,” Finn said. “Can you think of any reason the killer would choose to put poison on the pages of your book to kill Stella Kirby? Why your book?”

“It sounds like an unremarkable coincidence. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have many essays to look over, and this is not a particularly talented group of students. It’s going to be a trying evening.”

“Sure thing. We’ll keep in touch,” Finn promised.

“I’m sure I’ll see you over at the library,” Lorna added.

“Oh, do you go to the library often?” Elliot asked.

Lorna finally realized that Elliot Guest didn’t recognize her, even though they had spoken on a number of occasions when he was still with the book club. He was one of those people who diverted his gaze from her as quickly as possible. So now, she was an entirely new person to him.

After he departed, Finn and Lorna couldn’t help breaking into a little chuckle.

“Now that’s a piece of work. How many football stadiums do you reckon it would take to hold that ego?” Finn remarked.

“He actually is a really great author. Maybe that’s just the way they all are. Although, I really hope not.”

“He did not appreciate Stella getting all the big bucks, that’s for sure. She got to write full-time and he’s busy reading essays on How I Spent My Summer.”

“They’re college students. They are not writing essays on How I Spent My Summer. But yeah, he was very envious of Stella. And resentful. The librarians talked about it all the time. That’s not enough motive, is it? No one would kill someone just because the other person made more money, would they?”

“Well, I wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t. But there’s no telling about that nut job. Perhaps it’s what the exalted crowd calls reasonable grounds for murder.”

Elliot Guest was probably several notches easier to like than Stella Kirby. But that still didn’t make him easy to like.

On their way out to the front entrance, Finn ran into a familiar face, a cute dark-haired woman, about thirty years old. She smiled at the sight of him and then frowned at the sight of Lorna.

“Finn, what on earth are you doing here?” she said, never taking her eyes off Lorna.

“Bette. What’s up? I forgot this is where you worked. We were just . . . having tea . . . in the tea room. This is Lorna. She’s helping me work on a case.”

“Uh-huh. Lorna. Nice to meet you . . . Lorna. Yeah, the tea room is amazing. You should bring Margo down here sometime. I think she’d really enjoy it. Well, I guess I need to get to work. See you soon, then.”

Bette stormed into the hotel, and Finn looked as if he was developing a big headache.

“That’s my girlfriend’s sister. And here I am, walking out of a hotel with a gorgeous woman. Not good. Not good. Not good.”

“You think she got the wrong idea? You think she’ll say something to your girlfriend?”

“I think there’s 100% chance that she will say something to my girlfriend, yes. Crap, crap, crap.”

“You know there’s only one way to fix this, don’t you? You’re going to have to introduce me to your girlfriend.”

“That’s pretty twisted. But you may be right. Geez. Could we please solve this murder first?”

“Tell me about her. What’s she like?”

“Margo? She’s like, the best thing that ever happened to me. Like, I don’t even have to wonder whether I’m going to have a happy life. I already know. She’s . . . hey, what’s with the questions?”

“I just love to see a real love story. To know that it’s possible. To know that it might actually happen.” To me.

“Hmmph. You know, the first time I met Margo, I annoyed her big time. Hard to believe. But I knew right from the start. It was late at night on the beach, and I told her to go home and be safe. And she told me to mind my own beeswax.”

Lorna listened to the story delightedly. Finn was surprised to enjoy talking about his romance so much. Of course, he had to leave out some of the more intimate details. Not to mention avoiding any references to the fact that his girlfriend was a witch.

*****

Lorna waved a quick greeting to her colleagues as she, Finn, and Celeste Piper, the book club leader, went into one of the private study rooms. Celeste was youthfully middle-aged and an energetic, impassioned connoisseur of the arts. She had founded the book club six years ago and it had become her raison d’être.

“Stella was in the club for about two years. I think she joined about the time her book came out. I remember that we put it our reading list just as soon as she joined. And of course, every time I came to the library, she was working there in the middle, on the same table, every day. This is just so shocking. Such sad, sad news for everyone in the book club. Do you know who might have done this?”

“That, Ms. Piper, is exactly what I was going to ask you. Do you know who might’ve done this? You knew her for two years. Did she have enemies? Rivals? Grudges?”

Lorna thought it was time to pipe in. “I think there was quite a bit of gossip in your club about Stella’s book, Lobster Bay, After Hours, and who the real-life Oyster Cove residents were that she based her characters on.” She turned to Finn. “Stella’s first book was kind of a tell-all. It was full of marital affairs and scandalous episodes, all based on real people, and she used their real initials. There were a lot of consequences. Someone alluded to in her book got so mad at Stella that she threw some cold coffee in her face and had to be barred from the library for a year.”

“Yes, our discussions often degenerated into tawdry local gossip. I feel sorry for the people she mentioned, I really do. She describes their lives in such detail, and that alone would be enough to identify most of them. But it was unnecessary, I think, to shame them by using their initials as well. But the other members of the book club enjoyed the gossip. Our membership went out from fifteen to thirty-six, largely due to Stella’s appeal. And I can only be grateful for anything that makes people more enthusiastic about reading. I know that everyone is going to want to attend the memorial.”

“Can you give me a list of all the characters in the book and a matching list of who in Oyster Cove they stand for?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. As I recall, there were only two names that our book club couldn’t account for, the mystery initials WS and RS. Stella would just laugh when they begged her for details. “Figure it out yourself,” she’d say. I think she knew that the mystery of it would help the book sales.”

“About how long do you think it will take for you to work out that list?” Finn prodded.

“Just a couple of days, I would imagine.”

“Also, I wouldn’t mind talking to the club. Would that be all right?”

“Oh, I know they’d be happy to provide assistance for Stella in any way possible. We meet tomorrow night at seven PM, downstairs in the conference room.”

“I appreciate your help. Now, unfortunately, it looks like I have a book to read.”

“I’ll help you find a copy,” Lorna said.

Finn hunkered down in a comfy leather chair and ottoman, reading Stella Kirby’s tell-all. Lorna took the opportunity to chat with her coworkers and to pick up Bella, whom they had been happy to babysit for the day.

There was still a cloud of doom hanging over the library. No excited chatter about museum excursions or Downton Abbey binge weekends. Not only had the number of people coming into the library dropped down to a low trickle, but there was still the uneasy specter that one of their own had been involved in the murder—Miles Weston being the primary suspect.

“It was his day off, the day Stella was murdered,” Melody recalled. “But that’s not when the poisoning would’ve happened, would it? The poison had to be in place sometime the day before. And that’s when he was working. He would have been the one who picked up the stray books the night before and re-shelved them. I hate to think about it, but what if . . .?”

“People have started driving twenty minutes away to go to the next nearest library,” someone groused quietly. “No one wants to take a chance on thumbing through books and running into some poison. It’s reading, not skydiving. Not drag-racing. People are scared to come here now. We’re probably going to lose a lot of funding if our numbers don’t get back up.”

At least one handsome fellow had braved the risks of entering the library. He sidled up to Lorna with a big smile.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know a good place near here grab a cup of coffee, would you?”

“There’s a very good café just half a block from here, same side of the street,” Lorna said. “Excellent pastries too.”

“Well, I’m ever so grateful for your insight. Perhaps you’d allow me to thank you with a nice cup of coffee and an excellent pastry?”

Lorna walked right into that one. But he was sweet enough, and very easy on the eyes. “I think I might be free right now. Why not?”

As Lorna turned to say goodbye to her friend Melody, she couldn’t help but notice that she and several others, men and women, were looking at her enviously, wistfully. Being the repeated object of romantic interest would never be more than a fantasy for them. They could only vicariously soak up Lorna’s newfound popularity and its promise of love to come.

Lorna could see their thoughts as clearly as if they were spoken aloud. But she didn’t want to leave her friends behind on this new journey. She wanted them to be happy too.

*****

It was Delphine’s first time in Lorna’s home. She admired the bouquet that she had given Lorna. “Mark my words. Not a single petal will fall off this bouquet.”

Bella was leaping all over Delphine’s feet, trying to get her attention, and Delphine finally had to pick her up. “For a sickly little thing, she has no shortage of energy. She’ll do very nicely as a familiar.”

“What exactly is a familiar?”

“An animal companion whose very presence will concentrate and focus your abilities.”

“And do I have abilities? Aside from being pretty and blooming flowers?”

“Beauty has special sway over emotion, most particularly, love. I recall Lilith casting many a love spell, for one mischievous reason or another. That is an area in which you will excel. Also . . . well, there will be time enough to teach you that later.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

“Beauty has the power to fill up the mind of the beholder and to displace weaker preoccupations. You can make a person forget, in a very specific way. It is a great power, and it can be used irresponsibly and cruelly.”

“It is a fabulous power,” Lilith interjected. “I made many a man forget that he had a wife at home. And when he started to bore me, I made him forget that we’d ever met. Otherwise, it’s too easy for them to hang around like lovesick puppies and make pests of themselves. Not to mention, how many traffic officers I made forget why they had stopped me. It can do away with so many of life’s tedious irritations. Do not discourage her from using it.”

“Lorna Sinclair is going to be operating from an entirely different moral code. I doubt she’ll find occasion to use this talent as frequently as yourself. Now, Lilith, if you don’t mind, you know she must become engaged in this new life in a manner that feels comfortable to her. She will grow and evolve from there.”

“As always, you drag your feet. Well, go on. Teach her something.”

“So I can give someone amnesia? That sounds kind of mean. No one wants to forget their memories. I don’t think I’ll have much use for that. But love spells! Can I use them for someone else? For my friends at work? I think they want love and romance as much as I do, but most of them won’t admit it. We all want someone, don’t we? You told me that I was going to find someone. I just want the same for them. Is there anything I can do?”

CHAPTER SIX

As a senior employee, Lorna had the keys to open the library. In order to avoid being seen, she came at six AM and avoided turning on the lights. But she knew the layout by heart, and it was easy enough to make her way up the stairs and to the entrance of the employee office. Everyone who worked at the library had an employee mail slot in there. Everyone had to pass through that doorway, sooner or later.

Lorna draped Bella over her shoulder. If this kitten could help her in any way, now was the time. Lorna ran her hands along the door and its frame. “Objects of affection, at long last, all who enter will hear the words of love, the sighs of love, the heat of love, released.”

She felt strangely energized. Was that just hopefulness? Bella’s eyes glowed with intensity. Could it possibly have worked? She was going to have to stop by later in the day to see. She couldn’t wait.

*****

That morning, there was quite a large a social gathering at Stella Kirby’s house. Finn and two other officers, including a crime scene specialist, plus Daisy, Shane the techie, intent on retrieving his thermos, as well as Lorna and Bella.

Daisy had said that the house was almost Hoarders worthy. It wasn’t quite that bad, but there was very little floor space to maneuver around, no surface area that wasn’t piled high with objects spilling to the ground, as were all the chairs and sofas—just piles of books and papers, and several decades’ worth of the kind of junk that you couldn’t even give away at a yard sale.

Daisy grimaced. “I get a migraine just thinking about clearing this space out. I’d rather just hire a bulldozer and raze it to the ground.”

“If you really have no need for it, donate to charity,” Lorna suggested. “I’m sure some group could make use of it.”

“Good idea. The only thing I actually need here is to find a few photos for the memorial service. Oh good, she’s got some on the mantle.”

Daisy gingerly made her way to the other side of the room and came back clutching a couple of framed photographs. She showed one of them to Lorna. It was a very old photograph of two young women in a very stiff and formal pose that looked as if it came from the early 1960s.

“Here she is with her sister, Mina. I suppose I could just crop the photo to get a picture of her alone.”

“You don’t have to mess up that old picture,” Shane chimed in helpfully. “Just scan it, and then you could do all the cropping you want.”

Finn shook his head at the jaw-dropping volume of Stella’s possessions. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in my life. Except in the library.”

Lorna picked up a book. “Hmmph. This is one of ours. So is this one. So is this one. It looks like . . . this whole row is from our library. And these here. And these here. We do have a limit of thirty books checked out at the library at any given time. I get the impression that most of these books—maybe all of them—were never checked out. Geez. This is going to clear up a lot of our ‘missing books’ list.”

“So, you’re saying that Stella was a very bad girl.”

“I’m saying that the book that was poisoned . . . we just assume that it never left the library because it had never been checked out. But seeing this, it could easily have been something that she took home and carried back and forth. She could have had it here. The poisoning could have happened here.”

Finn nodded in agreement. “Joe. Give me two more CSIs over here. Shane . . . where’s Shane?”

Shane came scrambling down the stairs, clutching his prized super thermos.

“Okay, Shane, you and Ms. Kirby—it’s probably best if you clear out right now and let us do our thing.” He looked at Lorna. “And you . . . stop touching those books until they’ve been cleared for poison. Boy, oh boy, between reading Stella’s book and digging through this house, I’m going to be the one with a migraine.”

“Should I call over to the library and confirm whether the books were checked out?” Lorna asked.

“Okay, but Joe, can we get some gloves on her, please?”

With very official crime scene gloves on, Lorna proceeded to call the library’s help desk. The first thing she heard on the other end of the line was uncontrollable giggling.

“That’s the silliest thing I ever heard. Now leave me alone so I can get some work done,” a woman’s voice said.

“Susan, is that you? This is Lorna. Could you check on some books for me? I need to see if they’re checked out.”

“Sure thing. Just read out the call numbers.”

“I’d like to call your number. Why don’t you give it to me?” a persistently flirtatious male voice interjected, obviously standing very close to Susan.

Which prompted more giggling from Susan. Lorna gasped. The love spell! What was going on over there? She had to get over and see for herself.

“Officer Cochran. They don’t appear to be checked out. Will you be needing me anymore today?”

“Nah. But I need you to make the rounds with me, just as soon as I’m done with this book. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Great. I’ll be over at the library.”

“You already arranged for a few days off. You must really love your job.”

“I really ought to go over and check my inbox.” And by inbox, I mean love spell.

*****

Susan was standing outside the entrance, laughing and having a fine time with her deep voiced admirer, who was exhorting her to play hooky.

“You should totally call in sick. We could spend the day on my boat. Kind of a little staycation. It’s obvious you work way too hard. Live a little,” he wheedled.

Susan look like she was in seventh heaven. Lorna was quite pleased for her. But if Susan was out here, then who was at the desk?

No one. No one was at the desk! Although Lorna could hear sounds of life coming from the room behind the reception area. Perhaps Susan had passed the baton to someone back there and they were simply putting something away, or some other really good explanation for leaving the desk unattended.

What she found was Miles giving a grandiose tour to a quiet, bookish young woman in her late twenties, who was hanging onto his every word.

Lorna hated to interrupt this promising encounter. “Miles, do you know who’s supposed to be at the front desk?”

“Oh, that’s probably me. But Harriet here has always wanted to know what it looks like in our control center. She’s thinking about switching over to library science.”

“I was thinking about being a paralegal. But I think the environment of the library will be so much more . . . stimulating and appealing.”

Miles blushed at the implied compliment.

“Okay, well, get out as soon as you can. Just in case someone needs anything,” Lorna suggested gently.

As she headed for the stairs, she saw a man whom she recognized as one of the café managers down the street, off in a corner with her supervisor, arm around her waist and whispering something in her ear that was putting her in a very good mood.

There was so much unusual activity going on, but one remarkable sight really stopped Lorna in her tracks. Wheelchair-bound Mickey Woodward was tenderly holding the hand of Norma Wilson, an elderly librarian who kept announcing her retirement, year after year, and then kept changing her mind. She and Mickey were gazing at one another with unmistakable fondness.

“Oh, Lorna. Do you think I might be able to get a few days off next week? I know it’s short notice, but Mickey and I were thinking of taking a little weekend getaway. There are some really good chartered bus tours that are wheelchair-accessible,” Norma gushed.

“Wow! Next week. That’s very . . . quick.”

Mickey scoffed. “Do we look like we have all the time in the world? Now, be a good girl and make it happen.”

As Lorna climbed up the stairs, she recalled with frustration that this was Melody’s day off work. She so wanted her good buddy to be here to enjoy this heady environment of romance. Ah well, Melody would be back soon enough.

Upstairs in the back office, Lorna was finally able to confirm that two of her colleagues, Vicky and Raymond, had long had an unspoken crush on one another. They were now snugly holed up in Vicky’s cubicle, kissing and canoodling like teenagers in a parked car. And to think that they might still be treating one another as platonic friends. That was an accomplishment that had Lorna smiling for the rest of the day.

Now she could go on her own date that evening, happy in the knowledge that she was able to share some of her good fortune.

*****

Lorna had tried to talk her date out of his choice of Oyster Cove’s most expensive restaurant The Louvre. But her exquisitely dressed date, Scott Houston had argued, what’s more romantic than fine French cuisine? As it turned out, food was only the tip of the iceberg in his connoisseurship—although that alone included strong opinions on wine, chocolate, cheese, and olive oil. He was also something of a fashionista.

“That is a stunning dress. Although you would obviously look good in a burlap sack. What is it? Dior? Yves San Laurent?”

It was a very new dress that had to be hastily purchased when Lorna found out she was going to such a fancy place. But since she didn’t intend to be going to many fancy places in the near future, she hadn’t wanted to make a big investment. And Yves San Laurent cannot be had for thirty dollars.

“I don’t remember the label, actually. I bought it in such a hurry.”

But that was not enough to end the discussion of designer labels. Scott was determined to show off his exquisite taste—in everything.

“And your clutch? I lived in New York city for fifteen years and I got very, very good at purses, which as you know, New York ladies take very seriously. Yours is pretty retro, which narrows it down to about four different designers.”

“It was my mother’s. It’s not retro. It’s just old.” Lorna wanted to shut down that particular guessing game before it went on ad nauseum.

“Have you ever been to one of the runway shows in New York? It’s a super inspiring way to spend the afternoon. I go back at least twice a year to buy my suits and always try to catch a show or two. There’s a Donna Karan coming up next month that you really should think about. Some people say I’m in the wrong business. Maybe they’re right. I don’t know. What do you think I should do with all my fashion expertise?”

Lorna was getting impatient. “Forget about it.”

“Forget about what?” Scott asked in genuine puzzlement. “You know what? I just lost my train of thought. What were we talking about?”

He was serious. He had completely forgotten about his fashion mania. Just like Delphine had told her! She’d just made someone forget something. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Considering that gave her a little relief from his silly ramblings, she was gonna file that in the good column.

How come dating and romance weren’t nearly as much fun as she had imagined them to be? Possibly because Scott was a windbag. And Liam had been a thoughtless jerk. Now, it was she who was starting to be envious of her giddy and hopeful colleagues back at the library. Why wasn’t beauty making her as happy as her friends appeared to be? Could it be, in part, because she was still fixated on the Protected, witch-hating Max?

*****

The library’s conference room was large, but not quite large enough to hold tonight’s crowd. About thirty members had come—it was standing room only. Normally, life gets in the way, and a regular meeting would have about half that number. Everyone was drawn together in shock over the loss of their celebrity member.

Lorna took a place in the far corner. She just wanted to be a fly on the wall. But a gorgeous face in the room was bound to be a little distraction. She continuously felt curious eyes on her.

Finn had high hopes for some good leads from this group. Given that Stella was difficult and self-absorbed, these were probably the closest things to friends in her life.

“I know you want justice for your friend Stella Kirby. I need your help. Anything you can tell me—we’re looking for enemies, resentments, grudges, jealousies, any kind of bad blood.”

Everyone shifted around uncomfortably, looking around them at the others, reluctant to say anything. Finn held up Lobster Bay, After Hours.

“Anyone in Oyster Cove who might take offense to this book? I just had a quick read. There are lots of really interesting stories in here. Letty Samuels. Those initials stand for someone else, I’ve been told. Who’s LS?”

“Lexi Stokes, the sex-crazed party girl. Everyone knows that one. There’s a lot of her dirty laundry in there, and I’m sure she didn’t appreciate it. It might’ve made her mad enough to kill. Well, it could have.”

Lorna flinched. Poor Lexi. She was no killer. But she was about to become a suspect.

“Thank you.” Finn nodded gratefully at the informant. “All I’m asking for right now is what is probably already common knowledge. No one can get locked up just because they’re referred to in this book. It just gives us a place to start asking questions. Now, Irma Murphy. Who did that stand for?”

“Ivy Morgan. She works the call center now. Can you believe that? After what her life used to be like. Champagne and yachts. I mean, it’s all her own fault that she lost everything, but she was still pretty humiliated, and mad at Stella for talking about it.”

“Very good. And Mr. Crazy Weekend in Vegas—Jim Peters?”

“That’s Jake Partridge.”

Finn jotted down that new name. “And who are Mr. and Mrs. RS and WS?”

“We never knew, and now I guess we never will. Stella always enjoyed keeping us guessing on that one. But RS had an affair on his wife for twenty years. She never found out, and after he died, she still didn’t know and worshiped him like a saint.”

“But she’d be a pretty old lady by now. Old ladies don’t really kill people, do they?”

A few of the characters were discussed. An emotional tribute to Stella followed with most members wanting to put in their two cents about what Stella meant to them. Afterward, they broke for snacks and mingling. All the while, Celeste Piper had sat close to Finn and was clearly in charge. But in the informal socializing afterward, the club members could speak to him more freely, and Lorna listened nearby.

“Celeste can be a little hoity-toity sometimes. She’ll be mad if she heard us saying this, but she tried to get Stella kicked out of the book club. She thought Stella was dragging the club down into a tabloid gossip club, and she wanted it to be all about A Tale of Two Cities and Wuthering Heights.”

“And she was so mad at Stella when Elliot Guest left the group. He and Celeste were kind of on the same highbrow wavelength. Every time Stella opened her mouth, which was a lot, you could see how much it grated on Celeste.”

“So, behind Stella’s back, she emailed us a referendum on kicking Stella out. A few people agreed with her. But for most of us, Stella was a hoot—you know, a guilty pleasure. We made sure she stayed.”

Lorna and Finn took in this clandestine information. Then Lorna remembered that she really needed to write a memo to her supervisor about the books in Stella’s house and how best to go about retrieving all of them.

“I have to head upstairs to do a little work. See you tomorrow?”

Finn had his hands full with a room of very useful informants. “Will do.”

*****

Half an hour later, Lorna approached the office exit to find Finn standing in front of a big community announcement board full of memos, social events, and office photos. He was standing right in front of their summer barbecue picture. Lorna joined him silently, and he gave her a quick sidelong glance and then returned his gaze to the photograph.

“You know, the general consensus is that LS in the book is Lexi Stokes, but LS could also stand for Lorna Sinclair. So, I hope you understand, but I had to ask. I asked the ladies in the book club if the sex-crazed party girl could possibly be Lorna Sinclair. And you know what? They laughed their heads off. Not even a remote possibility. And they told me what you looked like, not so very long ago. And now I can see it for myself.”

He looked Lorna in the eye. “That had to be rough. Very, very rough. Not to mention losing your family. I’m very glad to see you doing so well now.”

Lorna was touched. It had been such a long, lonely road, and most of the time, most people seemed oblivious to what she had gone through.

“There’s just one thing that gives me a little pause. Plastic surgery? Miracle plastic surgery? I don’t think so.” Finn glanced at the librarian attending the office counter. “Why don’t we take a walk?”

As soon as they had crossed the parking lot and reached the residential area, Finn resumed his line of thinking. “I’m no stranger to plastic surgery. I’ve hunted down some of America’s Most Wanted. I searched for a lot of people who didn’t want to be found. They used a lot of plastic surgery, trying to look as different from themselves as they could possibly look.”

Finn shook his head. “This is not plastic surgery. Maybe techniques have gotten really good the past couple of years. All right, I’m no doctor, and I have to confess, I know a lot more about witches than I do plastic surgery.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Finn got just the reaction he was expecting.

“You know about witches?” This was an exciting development. Besides Dr. Svenson, Ruby, and Delphine, Lorna had not been able to talk about what had happened to her to a single soul.

“I know about Lilith Hazelwood. I know that Dr. Svenson has been a very busy guy. Sometimes maybe a little too busy. But he saved my girlfriend’s life, so I’m gonna let the man keep doing what he does best.

“And I know that there’s more to you than meets the eye. Although, what meets the eye is pretty darn impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment. Just an observation. I’m thinking you probably have some special talents. What do you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“When flowers are dry and drooping, I can make them fresh and beautiful.”

“You kidding me? So, you’re like a good fertilizer. C’mon, there’s got to be something more.”

“Apparently, I have a natural talent for love spells.”

“Wait a minute. That does not sound like a good idea. Love is something that just happens all by itself. You don’t trick people into falling in love.”

“Said the handsome young man who is so head over heels in love that he doesn’t notice how many people around him have never been that lucky.”

That was enough to impose a moment of speechless reflection on Finn. “I have sometimes been accused of being lacking in the empathy department. Just proceed with caution on that talent, that’s all I’m saying.”

They had circled back to the parking lot.

“So, tomorrow, we have a lot of people to check out. I’m going to set up appointments with Lexi Stokes, Ivy Morgan, and Jake Partridge. Between the two of us, maybe we’ll hear something that means something.”

“That sounds fine. But, full disclosure.”

“Oh, now you’re all about the full disclosure. Go ahead, Ms. Witch. Whatcha got to disclose?”

“I know Lexi Stokes. And I like her. She’s not your killer.”

“The sex-crazed party girl. Friend of yours?”

“A new friend, yes.”

Finn gestured for Lorna to get into her car. “All this disclosure is going to keep me up all night. I’ll give you a call before noon.” As he turned to leave, Finn shook his head again. “Making flowers bloom. That is so lame.”

“Oh, yeah? You know someone who could do something better?”

Finn grinned proudly. “I sure do.”

That goofy, dopey lovesick look was one that Lorna had seen before. Of course! His girlfriend. Was. A. Witch!

*****

Lorna would dearly have loved to give Lexi a heads-up before the interrogation. This was a very promising new friendship for her, and she didn’t want anything messing it up. But Finn would undoubtedly have cried foul.

They met at the deservedly popular Rainbow Gelato, where Lexi was already chowing down on a pumpkin brownie concoction. Lexi had agreed to talk to the police about Stella Kirby, but she couldn’t have been more surprised to see Lorna accompanying Finn.

“What on earth are you doing here, with his handsome guy? Are you two . . .?”

“Nope. Nope. No. Not at all,” Finn was anxious to clarify.

“I was working at the library the night Stella Kirby died. In fact, I'm the one who found her. Yeah, I know. It was pretty bad. But I knew more about Stella than even I realized, so officer Cochran has asked me to help out with the investigation.”

“Really? I guess the library isn’t as dull as it sounds. Just kidding. Sort of.” With a wink at Lorna, Lexi turned back to Finn. “And you’re here to talk to me about Stella Kirby’s charming book. Have you read it?”

“Yes, ma’am, I have. I’m sorry to have to question you on such personal intimate details of your life, but I’m afraid they are pertinent to this investigation. So . . . Letty Samuels?”

“Is that a question? Of course, I’m Letty Samuels. Red hair. Import/export jewelry and art supply business. She even described what kind of car I drove.”

“So, it would be safe to say that most people in Oyster Cove understood you to be a character in the book?”

“Even Lorna here knew it was me, and by all accounts, this girl had been living under a rock. Doesn’t even know where all the good bars are.”

Lorna smiled. For her, this was a whole new kind of friend. The last evening she spent with her library friends had been a Scrabble-athon.

“So, there were activities described in the book that I would imagine must’ve caused you quite a bit of embarrassment and distress.”

“What scenes could you be referring to, I wonder? I was featured in so many.”

“I’m thinking specifically of the scene where you had sex on the beach. Not the drink. Actual sex on Oyster Cove Beach.”

“I wouldn’t be the first to do that.”

“Also, that you had more than one boyfriend with you on that occasion.”

Lexi cocked her head, unrepentant. “Officer Cochran, exactly what is it you think I’m guilty of?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. The murder of Stella Kirby. Was I unclear about that?”

Lexi sputtered. “How, exactly, did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“More a line of inquiry than a conclusion. There is good reason to believe that many people found Stella Kirby’s book to be damaging and hurtful, and maybe they wanted to retaliate.”

Lexi turned to Lorna with a big question in her eyes. Lorna shook her head vigorously.

“No, not for a moment. Never considered it as a remote possibility. And if we could tie Officer Friendly down here, and jab him with truth serum, even he would admit that he doesn’t think you did it. He’s just following all leads.” Speaking directly to Finn, she added, “Well, there’s no reason to get her all wound up, is there?”

“Hmmph. Okay, Ms. Stokes. One last question. How did having this book come out affect your life here in Oyster Cove?”

“Well, it turned me into a celebrity, didn’t it? A big fish in a little pond. It made everyone know who I am. Grandmas on the street. Bank tellers. Grade school principals. The cable guy.”

“And how do people generally respond?”

“Grandmas, not so well. The cable guy—very enthusiastically. Oh, Officer Cochran, I made you blush.”

“I guess were done here,” Finn conceded.

Lorna reached for the menu. “We don’t have the next interview till four PM. I want to stay here and have a gelato with Lexi.”

Finn and Rainbow Gelato were no strangers. “Chocolate hazelnut with coconut stripes would be my recommendation. You ladies have a good day.”

As they watched him stroll down the street, Lexi couldn’t help but admire his disappearing figure. “He’s annoying but cute. I’d go for it, if I were you.”

“Oh, no. He is a man who is so in love. The way that I want to be in love. I actually envy him. I really do.”

“All right, order that gelato and let’s talk about something more interesting than dead bodies. Like maybe live bodies.”

Lorna took Finn up on his suggestion, and it was indescribably yummy. She didn’t even have to get two different flavored scoops. The coconut stripes added a fantastic contrast to the chocolate hazelnuts.

“All right, you just had a couple of dates recently, didn’t you?” Lexi grilled. “How did they go?”

Lorna shook her head. “I suppose they might be okay guys for someone else. But they weren’t kind enough. Or really interested in cultural things, or just the world around them. They cared about such silly things like designer labels and luxury cars. I just didn’t have a whole lot in common with them.”

“Did any of them at least have any talent in the sheets?” Lexi wondered.

Now Lorna tried not to blush. “Well, I didn’t like either of them well enough to find out.”

“Honey, sometimes, you’ve got to salvage a bad evening as best you can. Haven’t you ever been out with a guy who was kind of a lunkhead, but dynamite in bed?”

“No, I can’t say that I have. Maybe I’m just the kind of person who needs a psychological connection to enjoy intimacy.”

“Okay, Juliet. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m missing out on something. Tell me about the best sex you ever had.”

“Oh, well, you know you’re not supposed to kiss and tell.”

“That’s for gentlemen. And even they don’t let that hold them back in the locker room. But you don’t need to protect anyone. Believe me, whoever he is, he would be delighted, thrilled, and flattered beyond belief to have you describe him as the best sex you’ve ever had. So, go ahead. Spill the beans.”

The truth was too embarrassing. Which was peculiar, considering that throughout history, women were usually stigmatized and punished for having premarital sex. But in modern times, a grown woman who had never shared her bed with anyone except a clingy kitten was pretty darn freakish. And pathetic. And unbelievable.

“Okay, maybe that memory is too precious to share, Princess. Tell about your second-best. Or your worst. I love hearing worst stories. My girlfriends and I swap them all the time.”

Lorna almost wished she had a bad story to share. Because everyone has bad stories, and at least that would make her normal. Her silence was puzzling to Lexi, who first had to wonder whether Lorna just didn’t consider her trustworthy. And then she started to wonder something else.

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

Lorna looked away awkwardly.

Lexi gasped with disbelief. “No. It can’t possibly be true. I refuse to believe that it’s true. You can’t possibly be telling me that you have never, ever . . . because that would make my head explode. Nobody’s a virgin. Even Elizabeth the Virgin Queen wasn’t really a virgin.”

“Oh, Lexi. Please stop saying that word. And stop looking at me like I’m a Martian.”

“It’s just that I’m speechless.”

Lorna looked at her pointedly. “If only . . .”

“How did this not make it into Stella’s book?”

A split moment later, they were both laughing hysterically.

“I hardly think that this is a scandal comparable to a threesome on the beach,” Lorna protested.

“Who said it was only a threesome?” Lexi taunted. “Oh, man. I just don’t understand how the men of Oyster Cove have allowed this to happen. You’re almost as pretty as me. Incidentally, that’s an inside joke. You’ve got a few notches on me. But apparently, not on the bedpost.”

Lorna had always hoped that this revelation would never come to light. She had known the humiliation would be more than she could bear. Instead, astonishingly, it was helping to solidify a singular friendship. And unexpectedly, it felt like an enormous weight off her shoulders.

*****

Lorna and Finn were waiting in the parking lot outside the Pearce Call Center. It had been a long time since she had read Stella’s book. Finn, having read it more recently, was able to refresh her memory.

“So, her money manager turned out to be like one of those Bernie Madoff Ponzi scheme characters. ’Cause her husband left her a fortune, and she didn’t know what to do with it, investment-wise. So, she got this guy who all the other rich people said was the perfect guy. Thing is, some of those rich people were just part of this guy’s scam team. Don’t know if Stella’s numbers were accurate, but it says he took over five million off her. She lost a mansion. She lost her cars. She lived alone though. Who needs four cars? Everything’s gone. Now, she works at the call center and rides the bus.”

“I remember that now. It felt very mean-spirited, like kicking someone when they’re down. I mean, Stella didn’t cause her misfortune, but there was no reason to be so cruel about it.”

“Hold on. I think that’s her.”

Ivy Morgan, a former young trophy wife, now in her mid-thirties, approached them with a look of dread on her face.

“Ms. Morgan, I’m Officer Cochran, and this here is Ms. Sinclair. We’ll try not to take up too much your time.”

“I don’t have long to talk. If I miss my bus, it’ll be half an hour till the next one comes.”

“Well, we thought about that. And we would love to give you a ride home. And by the time we get there, the interview will be over.”

Ivy sighed. She hated the thought of having to talk about Stella, but avoiding the crowded bus was a very appealing trade-off. “Okay.”

Lorna had volunteered to chauffeur so that Finn could sit in the backseat with Ivy. Bella was resting contentedly in a sturdy cat bed on the front passenger side floorboard.

Finn examined his subject intently. “So, I’m guessing that you won’t be attending the Stella Kirby Memorial service.”

“What? Am I supposed to be sorry that she’s dead? Well, I’m just not that charitable. She was a horrible person and just like that loser manager of mine, she made a living by exploiting people. And then she got what she deserved. I know that’s not the kind of thing to say. Maybe I’m not a saint. But I’m also not a murderer. That’s why you want to talk to me, right? To find out if I’m a murderer?”

“We need to conduct a thorough investigation and your name did come up . . . on more than one occasion.” Finn caught Lorna’s eye in the rearview mirror.

Lorna cleared her throat. “Yeah, so, I did recall an incident from last year when you got banned from the library for a whole year after you threw a cup of coffee in Stella Kirby’s face.”

“Now that, she definitely deserved. It was cold coffee. It wasn’t a lethal weapon.”

“Stella screamed bloody murder over that.” Lorna flinched. “Oh, no pun intended.”

“It wasn’t enough to make me a laughingstock. To have everyone think I was an idiot. To make them think that I lost all of my cars and that I was riding the bus.”

“Ma’am, you do ride the bus,” Finn reminded her.

“But no one needs to know about that. That’s my private business. Now, I can feel everyone snickering at me everywhere I go. Especially Stella. I could always imagine how she and her book club were laughing at me. And then I walked past her table at the library that day, and she asked me ‘How’s life at the call center?’ Asked me that at the top of her lungs so that everyone nearby could hear. That’s why I threw the coffee.”

“You sound pretty angry. Very understandable,” Finn noted.

“Of course, it’s understandable. It shouldn’t make me a suspect.”

Finn shrugged sympathetically. “And yet it does.”

They arrived at Ivy’s apartment building. It was a very modest multiplex of four apartments. Lorna imagined that they were pretty nice. But it was no mansion. Bella took the lack of motion as an opportune time to leap into Lorna’s lap.

“One last question, Ms. Morgan. Can you account for your whereabouts the day before Stella was killed?”

“I work the eight AM to four PM shift. After that, I go home. Alone. Every night. I never go out. My old friends want nothing to do with me.”

Lorna sighed. She’d never been rich, but there were many things about Ivy’s life she could relate to. “You should invite your coworkers over for a movie night or a game night,” she suggested.

But talking about the misery of her fall from grace was only causing Ivy’s spirits to fall further. “My mind just tortures me with the luxury and security I had and what a failure people think I am now. What am I supposed to do about that?”

Lorna stroked Bella’s insistent head. “Forget about it.”

Ivy blinked in surprise as she caught Lorna’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Forget about what?”

Lorna smiled. “Nothing.”

“Officer Cochran, will that be all? I need to go and make a big batch of oatmeal raisin cookies so I can take them into work tomorrow. Someone else did that last week and everyone really appreciated it. There are actually some pretty nice people over there.”

Finn raised an eyebrow at Lorna. “I’m sure there are. Yeah, we’re done.”

As Ivy walked to her front door, Finn got into the front seat. “Well, she’s no flower, but you certainly made her stop drooping. You’ve got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought.”

Lorna shrugged. “It was just too much regret to carry around.”

“Still, she had to watch Stella get rich while she got poor. And her getting poor helped Stella to get rich. That’s some serious motive there.”

“I like her.”

“You like everybody. You like Miles. You like Lexi. You like Ivy. One of these people you like is going to turn out to be a murderer.”

Lorna shivered. It was a distinct and disturbing possibility.

CHAPTER EIGHT

After Lorna had dropped him off at his car, there was still an hour to go before sunset—a perfect time to visit her mother’s grave. It was a pilgrimage that she still made on all birthdays and special holidays, and this week would be the anniversary of her parents’ death. Perhaps it was a good time to show her mother that the burns were gone and that she was really going to be all right.

There was always another visitor or two in the peaceful, expansive cemetery. But today’s fellow visitor made her heart skip a beat—it was Max Crowe. His head was bowed in front of a large tombstone, clearly missing someone.

What did Delphine say? That his mother had been killed by a witch when he was very young. Even younger than herself when she lost her own parents. It felt like fate. Or at least, she would never forgive yourself if she didn’t at least try. Quietly, she joined him at his side.

“My mother is here too. I was older than you were, though. I was twelve and I think that you were only eight. That’s a very young age to lose a mother. Although, there’s really no good age. No time when it wouldn’t devastate you.”

Max nodded agreement, wondering, How does she know that I was eight? Who has she been talking to about me?

Lorna continued, “My father died on the same day, but he’s not here. His will said that he wanted his ashes scattered into the river near where he was born in Maine. I wish he were here, but last wishes have to be honored.”

“I only wish I knew what my mother’s last wishes were. I had a child’s grasp of the world. I could only see what she was to me. But she had her own dreams, her own needs, her own life that I wasn’t old enough to see,” Max responded.

“I know the worst possible thing is for parents to lose a child. For the rest of their lives, they think to themselves, oh, he would have been thirteen now, and we would’ve taught him how to use the wood shop tools. Or she’d be graduating from high school today, and we’d be celebrating with a coast-to-coast road trip before she leaves for college.

“But the same thing happens when you lose a parent. You think, she would have been in her forties now, and she would’ve gotten her scuba certification because that was something she always wanted to do. Or, she’d be sixty-five now, and ready to retire, and booking cruises right and left. And badgering me about grandchildren.”

Lorna and Max shared a moment of silence. Lorna continued, “It’s hard to get over that feeling—that this is wrong. This was not supposed to happen. They should be here. They should be here.”

Max examined his lovely new acquaintance with wonder and relief. So much grief and passion beneath that beautiful surface. And at long last, someone who seemed to know exactly what he was feeling.

“After thirty years, your grief is supposed to be gone. When I stand here, the eight-year-old boy always shows up. His confusion and his pain and his loneliness. It all comes flooding back. The thought of living in a world without his mother is absolutely unbearable.”

A split-second later, the beautiful stranger had flung herself into his arms and was sobbing uncontrollably. He felt her body shaking against him, her words coming out in choppy, heartbroken bursts.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of that poor little boy who lost everything that made the world a wonderful place for him. I just want to reach back in time and hold him until it stops hurting so much. And tell him that one day, he’s going to be happy again.”

Lorna’s sobs continued. Max pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “The little boy’s right here. You are holding him. And he believes you, that one day he will be happy. He believes you.”

Eventually, the tears subsided, although the hug did not. Not until a crispy, chilly breeze blew right into them. Max tilted his face upward and Lorna did likewise.

“Rain!”

*****

They arrived by separate cars to the Café Au Lait parking lot and made a dash for the door, the drops of water already starting to pelt down. But the real downpour came as they found their seats. This was turning out to be a very lucky day.

The two-story café was simultaneously spacious and cozy. On this rainy occasion, it was crowded and noisy, but it was still possible for two people to pull their leather chairs together and shut out the rest of the world. Or to find a very small table where a private discussion could be enjoyed without including the neighboring table.

Lorna suggested two chai lattes, which was her mother’s favorite drink, and Max enthusiastically agreed. As he went to fetch the drinks, Lorna went to the café’s game shelf and pulled out Othello, one of her favorite games. It would help to calm her nerves as she was wondering what to say to this man she had been wanting to talk to for so long.

Thankfully, he knew how to play, although he was no match for her. You don’t play game night year after year with the library geeks without learning a thing or two. But Lorna’s expertise only seemed to delight Max.

“I used to play this with the kids in my foster family. But then they stopped when I was about twelve, because I was always winning,” Max recounted. “I always wanted to find someone who could give me a bit more of a challenge.”

“My mother and I would play this game when my father was on the road. And she had no qualms about beating me! I think she’d be happy that I’ve gotten good at it. Although, what I really need to get good at is bridge. She really wanted to win a bridge tournament.”

“And you like bridge too?”

“Not in a big way. But, it was on the list.”

“The list?”

“I went through all her papers, her notebooks, and I found that she had written out a bucket list. Have you heard of those?”

“Yeah, a list of all the things that you want to do—”

“Before you die. All the things she wanted to do in her life. Some she had mentioned to me, and others were a surprise. So, I promised myself that when I was grown up, I would start doing her bucket list, at least one item every year, in honor of the life she should’ve had.”

Max was becoming more intrigued with Lorna with each passing moment. “What did you do last year?”

“Okay, well, you know about First Night in Boston?”

“Sure, I hear it’s quite an incredible event. I’ve always wanted to go myself.”

First Night was the New Year’s Eve celebration in Boston, where the frosty winter evening was turned into a wonderland of art and spectacle. Dozens of theaters, and gallery owners kept their shops open until after the New Year was rung in. It was a cultural bar hop with tens of thousands of people checking out the musical and dance performances, world class ice sculptures, light displays, a wide range of paintings, sculpture, and jewelry displays, and two complete firework extravaganzas.

“Boston is so close. She was sure that she’d make it sooner or later. But she never did.”

“But you did for her. I hope you had a wonderful time.”

“It was actually a chance to hit two birds with one stone. Also on the bucket list was spending at least two nights in a luxury hotel. Which she never would’ve been able to do with my father. He was a traveling musician and stayed in flea bag motels and slept in his van. So, I made reservations at The Four Seasons months in advance. Also, I knew that going to First Night and enjoying the hotel amenities wouldn’t be nearly as much fun by myself. So, I invited a friend.”

Of course. A woman this beautiful would never lack for company. Of course, she’d want someone to kiss at midnight, Max fumed inwardly.

Lorna continued, “So, my friend Melody and I had a really great time. And I was able to cross two items off in one fell swoop.”

Melody! A girlfriend. Why was that such a relief? Even in his own head, Max knew a rhetorical question when he heard one. He desperately wanted for Lorna to be unattached and available.

“I think that what you’ve done to honor your mother is wonderful. I really do. But you know what she would want? And I’m going to be presumptuous enough to tell you exactly what that is.”

Lorna held her breath. How could he possibly know what her mother would have wanted?

“She’d want you to put that list away with all your other treasured mementos of her. And then get out paper and pen and create your own bucket list. And as every year goes by, she would love to know that the daughter she had to leave too soon was making her own dreams come true, one by one. That’s what she’d want. Am I wrong?”

Of course, he was right. But what on earth would be on her own bucket list? She had never felt hopeful enough about her life and future to even think of such a thing.

“No time like the present,” Max challenged teasingly.

“Only if you do yours right here with me,” Lorna threw back at him.

Put down his deepest, most heartfelt desires in black and white, in front of a woman he’d already bared too much of his soul to?

“Deal. Let me scrounge up some paper.”

Othello was returned to the community shelves and the bucket listing began.

“How many?” Max mused.

Lorna had attended a book discussion at the library on this very endeavor. “One hundred. Nothing is too small. In fact, it’s good to have big and small things. That way, you can knock off at least three a year.”

“Still . . . that’s a lot.”

“Think of places you want to see, languages you want to learn, instruments you want to play, events and festivals you’d like to attend, like First Night. And they don’t have to make sense to anyone else. If you want to binge watch eight seasons of Game of Thrones, or if you want to add hula hooping to your jump roping expertise . . .” That made them both smile. “And big things too. Adopt a child, start a charity, anything and everything.”

This was going to be rather exhilarating. With several furtive glances at one another, they spent the better part of the next hour furiously scribbling down their lists.

“Do we share them?” Max wondered.

“Of course, we share them. I mean, I don’t know you very well, Max, but I think we might be similar in at least this respect. I think we keep a lot of things bottled up inside. So, yeah, if it’s all right with you, we share.”

And so, they did.

“I’d love to take my students out for two big trips every year, Boston in the fall and New York City in the spring. You can’t imagine how many of these kids have never left Oyster Cove.”

“I didn’t know you were a teacher. What do you teach?”

“History. Tenth grade.” I can’t believe this woman has been in my arms and didn’t even know what I do for living.

“What a wonderful idea. They’ll have so much fun.”

“Of course, I’ll need a female chaperone to come along,” Max said offhandedly.

“Of course,” Lorna quickly agreed.

“Now you.”

“I know that librarians have a very dull reputation, and I’m not a wild person. I’m really not—”

“Now you have me on pins and needles. What is it?”

“Okay. What are your thoughts on . . . Burning Man?”

Max’s eyes widened and he gave a hearty laugh. “My thought is that you are full of surprises. I actually read a couple of articles recently on Burning Man and it sounded like . . . I don’t know . . . it had me intrigued. You mind if I add that to my list?”

“Be my guest. And then read your next one.”

“Okay. I’ve never played an instrument in my life. But I love listening to classical music. And I was thinking about maybe learning the cello. And then after a few years, if I got pretty decent, then I would try to get together with a quartet, and we would play at things like art gallery openings. For free. Then there’s no pressure to be great. Just having fun and enjoying the music.”

“I love that one. You should totally do it. There must be a music teacher at your school that you could hire as a private tutor. I think there are also lessons at the community college. And you just reminded me of something that I had always dreamed about doing—playing the piano.

“But it always seemed like you have to learn when you’re a child. Can you really learn to play well when you’re an adult? And I’m talking about me, not you and your cello. I think you and your cello are going to be great.”

“Did you ever see the movie Master and Commander with Russell Crowe—no relation? Well, he plays the violin in that movie and I read that he had to learn how to play it specifically for the movie. He learned in six months. And he’s unbelievably good at it. You’d swear that he’d been playing for twenty years. I think that’s what gave me the idea that it wasn’t too late for me to learn the cello. And if it’s not too late for me and Russell, then I know you can learn how to play the piano.”

Max watched approvingly as Lorna added this item to the bottom of her list.

It was her turn to continue. “I haven’t done much traveling, so I have a lot of cities on my list—New Orleans, San Francisco, Montréal, and I know this is corny . . .”

“I can take it.”

“Niagara Falls.”

“Perfect. And you know about the difference between the American side and the Canadian side? You’ve got to see the Canadian side.”

“Another place on my list, and it’s a little silly, since I don’t have any children, but Disneyland.”

“Disneyland or Disney World? I haven’t been to either myself. I think maybe we both missed out on a lot of childhood things. But like playing an instrument, I don’t think there’s a problem with being a late bloomer here. Now they’re both crazy expensive. But if you go to Disney World, you can also go to Universal Studios, which I’ve heard great things about. In fact . . .” He scribbled it at the bottom of his list.

“You’re next,” Lorna reminded him.

Max ducked his head sheepishly. “Then, well, I don’t know if this is really a bucket list item. It’s just normal life for most people.”

“What is it?”

“I wrote down family. Because everyone eventually has a family, right? Although, maybe they don’t. Because I’m thirty-seven and it seems I might be missing the boat on that.” Or maybe I was just waiting for the perfect woman to appear, in a cemetery, like an angel ghost.

“You reminded me of something I need to add to my list,” Lorena said.

Max couldn’t make out the upside-down item that she’d just added. “What did you just write?”

“Soulmate. I’ve always loved that word. I know most people think it’s unrealistic. A fantasy. But after all, it is my bucket list.”

One thing that Lorna could not put down in black and white on this list, even though it was the very first thing that she’d thought of, was the sexual experience that Lexi had mercilessly teased her for not having. But not for Lexi’s sake. For her own. It was an omission in her life that she wanted to rectify, ASAP.

From the café’s cash register, the two of them were being watched very intently. Café owner Gillian Swann was rarely on the premises. Her artwork being her biggest priority, she was happy to delegate the management of the staff to trusted employees. But today, two of the trusted employees were attending out-of-town weddings and recovering from food poisoning, respectively.

Gillian had received a gift of Lilith Hazelwood’s eyes, which not only saved her from a lifetime of blindness but gave her a supercharged vision that could see human auras and could penetrate right through walls, through clothing, and even through human flesh.

From the wildly accelerated heartbeats, the sweat glands, and the pupil dilations, there was so much attraction erupting at Lorna and Max’s table, it was hard to take her eyes off them. And the pink glow flowing out of both of them—their deep feelings were such a marked contrast to the tentative hesitation in their faces. Clearly, a first date.

But there was something else going on with the young woman. Some powerful element covering the entirety of her body. Something that made Gillian wonder if she hadn’t found another of Lilith’s transplant heirs. When Lorna came to the counter for cup of water, Gillian couldn’t resist pulling her aside.

“I just had to ask—does the name Lilith Hazelwood mean anything to you?”

Lorna gasped. Who was this pretty young auburn-haired woman? “How do you know about Lilith Hazelwood?”

Gillian nodded triumphantly. “What did you have transplanted? I have her eyes.”

“Really? They’re beautiful eyes. Do they do anything . . . special?”

Gillian looked Lorna up and down. “You’re wearing a moss green bra and . . . yellow- and white-striped panties.”

“What an obscene talent!”

They both laughed, delighted to find someone who could understand the Lilith Hazelwood experience.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Lorna said.

“Same here. And I know you and I are really going to get to know one another well. But . . .” Gillian said, glancing back in Max’s direction, “Right now, and speaking from personal experience, you really need to devote some time to getting to know him well.”

“Do you know Max?”

“No. But I can see the feelings pouring out of him. And you too, for that matter. You two have some important things to work out. I’ll still be here when you’re ready. Take my card.”

“Oh, what a beautiful card. And you’re an artist! Which would explain the beautiful card.”

They were both uplifted by the exchange and parted with promises to see one another soon. Lorna rejoined Max, whereupon they continued their bucket list discussion. It was, of course, unwittingly, an indirect means of tentatively discussing the shared life they hoped to have together.

Sometimes, it takes a lengthy acquaintance to know someone’s finer qualities. To be warmed by their presence. To connect with their soul. And to fall hopelessly in love. And sometimes, as Lorna and Max would each have told you, sometimes, it happens on the very first date.

CHAPTER NINE

Was Lorna actually humming? Finn had never seen her in such a good mood.

“Well, aren’t you Miss Sunshine? What gives?”

“It’s just a glorious day, isn’t it? Beautiful day, beautiful sky, and Oyster Cove really is a beautiful town, isn’t it?”

Finn didn’t get to be as good of a cop as he was without being able to read people.

“What’s his name?”

Lorna was surprised but not displeased. “Max. But don’t ask any questions. I don’t want to jinx it.”

“You aren’t doing any crazy love spells, are you?”

“No, I think we just like each other in the regular, ordinary, typical, old-fashioned way.”

“Now, that I can believe. However, I hate to bring your thoughts back to the murder, but this one is still very much unsolved. This next fellow should be interesting—Mr. Jake Partridge.”

They drove up to a very busy construction site that spanned almost an entire city block. The buildings had a very atmospheric look to them, and Lorna got the sensation of being on a Hollywood back lot and walking through the Wild West section.

They were greeted by Jake Partridge, a hearty man in his early fifties, and his animated fiancée, Kimberly Gottfried, in her mid-forties. He was a budding real estate mogul, barking orders at dozens of different contractors and looking as if he was king of the hill.

“This whole thing is going to turn into an entertainment block,” he boasted proudly. “It’s going to become a real destination—two bars, three restaurants, a spa facility, a jewelry shop, and a bank. Now you know how most places in Oyster Cove are really themed around the beach and the sea, real nautical. That’s all well and good. But nothing sells like variety.

“This is going to be straight up Old West. Straight out of the 1880s boomtown. Very Westworld. Old-timey uniforms and costumes. Antiques. Some old-fashioned drinks sprinkled here and there, just for atmosphere, along with the cutting-edge stuff. I think the tourists are going to love it.

“And as an added attraction, we have something that none of the other bars and cafés have, and that’s a rooftop patio. All those places right on the Promenade can only build so high. But what we lost in a little proximity to the beach, we got back in height and this really amazing view.”

Finn was impressed. “You’re doing well. It seems your life was never adversely affected by your portrayal in Stella Kirby’s book.”

“Ah. Yes. I did hear that she died. Shocking tragedy. But no, I’ve never suffered any ill effects from her silly little book, as you can see.”

Kimberly chimed in, “We’re actually grateful for it.”

“Is that right?” Finn asked. “How’s that?”

“When the book came out, Jake was engaged to this other woman—an absolute prude, if you ask me. And then, he goes off to his bachelor party in Vegas.”

“Quite a party,” Finn noted. “You paid out over ten thousand dollars for half a dozen, uh, escort ladies to . . . entertain you and your guests.”

“It was just one last wild fling,” Kimberly explained. “Typical bachelor stuff. But she didn’t see it that way. Good thing the wedding wasn’t planned till after that book came out.”

Jake nodded agreement. “Good thing is right. It would’ve been a very messy divorce, because she never would have gotten over it. Stella Kirby’s book saved me from a very messy entanglement.”

“So, because of Stella’s book, Jake and I are together.”

“And I have the perfect partner to move my business dream forward. I have Stella to thank for that.”

“We should send her flowers.”

Finn shook his head. “Those you would have to send to the cemetery.”

“It’s great that things worked out so well for you,” Lorna said sincerely. “I’d love to come back after your shops are open.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Jake said. “And if this place goes well, and it will, we’re going to expand onto a second block, but that would be New Orleans themed, with French quarter façades and Cajun bands every night. Really spice up this town.”

Lorna and Finn both gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Not a bit of motive here.

“I appreciate your time. Good luck with the businesses,” Finn said.

After they were back in the car, Finn let out a sigh of frustration.

“Out of Lexi, Ivy, and Jake, Ivy is the only one who wasn’t able to really recover from the book scandals.”

“Is there no one else?”

“There’s WS and RS, the woman who didn’t know that her husband was cheating on her for twenty years and still didn’t know after he died. But the lady at the book club was right—WS would have to be a really old lady. Not a very likely candidate.

“There’s plenty of other folks in the book, and no one comes out really clean, but we’ve already looked into the most damaging stories. Feels like there’s something missing. Something important that I didn’t understand how important it was. Memorial service is next Saturday, by the way.”

“I feel strange going there, not being a relative, or friend, or even a fan.”

“I know it sounds cold, but that service is an important part of the investigation. Going to mingle, going to listen, going just to pay attention.”

“I can do that.” Lorna glanced at her phone. “Sorry, I have to take off.”

“I see. Max?”

“No, Lexi. If we’re going for full disclosure again. She’s becoming a good friend, and she invited me to this thing. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

This “thing” that Lexi had invited Lorna to was described to her as an organic skincare and makeup presentation that one of Lexi’s friends was selling. Why not? Buy a few things to help out the friend of a friend.

Lexi’s apartment suited her to a T. Filled with rich burgundy and rose furniture and curtains, it was shabby chic meets bordello. Her friends looked as if they had been over to visit a hundred times. Chloe was a short, blondish woman in her late thirties who looked as if she had been a grunge/metal fan in a previous life. Lorna made a note to herself to ask Chloe if she’s ever been to Burning Man. Jules, also late thirties, was a New Agey African-American woman, with short spiky hair and a Native American choker, who worked as a clothing designer.

“I’m pleased to meet you both. Which one of you sells the organic products?” Lorna asked.

The three women all grinned mischievously.

“We all brought products for you—books, films, instructions, manuals, lotions, toys, everything you need to take your life to the next level.”

Uh, oh. Surely, she couldn’t be referring to . . . “Lexi? Lexi! You didn’t–you didn’t–you didn’t . . .”

“Stop stammering, girl,” Chloe scolded. “No one should go through life without proper sex ed instruction. Now, Jules here has taken classes in Tantric sex and in erotic massage.”

Jules smirked. “Continuing education is a beautiful thing. Lorna, by the time I’m done with you, the men will howl, the men will beg, and you’ll have your pick of them.”

“And while Lexi and I don’t have certificates to put on the wall like Jules here—and I still can’t believe you actually put them up, framed, on the wall of your shop—”

“Gotta lose the shame, Chloe. Gotta lose the shame.”

“Oh, no shame. I’m going to show Lorna more tricks up my sleeve than David Blaine. You’re going to thank me, Lorna. Because these are the trade secrets that give me the edge over the other gals in town. I don’t share them with just anyone.”

By this time, Lexi was pulling out erotic videos and Kama Sutra picture books. Jules had paraphernalia of her own. “Don’t worry. We’re going to send you home with a nice gift basket.”

Lexi couldn’t fail to notice that Lorna’s jaw was hanging open. And she had turned three different shades of pink, and her mind was clearly spinning in a mortified daze of thoughts. But she hadn’t run for the door yet—that was encouraging.

But . . . oh, no, was she hyperventilating? Oh, well. She just had to embrace of the necessity of this intervention. After all, what are good friends for?

Talk about a secret being out! Lorna had always assumed that she would feel much like Ivy Morgan on having her private life exposed—humiliated beyond belief, and certain that everyone would be laughing at her. But these women weren’t poking fun at her. They were just incredibly gung-ho about filling in the gaps of her knowledge.

Lexi winked at her. “The men of Oyster Cove will thank us.”

Lorna shook her head. “I don’t care about the men of Oyster Cove. I only care about one man. One guy.”

The women all leaned forward in surprise.

“You got a guy?” Jules asked. “Why didn’t you say so? How far have things gotten?”

Lorna waved a hand over all of the teaching materials and paraphernalia. “Not this far.”

Lexi waggled a finger in Lorna’s face. “Lorna, don’t you dare turn down our help.”

Lorna let out a long breath. “I really like this guy. I really do want to get close to him, and not be so . . . clueless. So, I guess I’m going to let you help me.”

The other three women cheered as if their team’s MVP had just scored a touchdown. Hopefully, she soon would.

*****

Lorna couldn’t help but want to get a peek to see how things were going at the library. As she stepped out of her car, she saw that Raymond’s car had arrived just moments earlier. He and Vicki were holding hands and giggling and sprinting giddily toward the library entrance. It could not have been more obvious that they had just spent the night together. And she had never seen either one of them filled with such energy and life.

The library was no longer feeling like a gloomy crime scene. The local boutiques and department stores may have experienced a little bonanza—all the librarians were noticeably dressing a lot more fashionably. In the employee restroom, Lorna was surprised to see several women attending to their makeup, side-by-side, and swapping beauty tips.

From the open cubicles, she was hearing the most astounding conversations.

“Okay, maybe it’s not technically a nude beach. But they’re petitioning for it to be a nudist beach, and why not? Oyster Cove needs to loosen up. Maybe a little group of us needs to head out there to show our support.”

“If the three of us go, I think it will be showing off our lack of support,” one middle-aged employee responded and was greeted with great hilarity.

Passing the upstairs reference desk, a young man offered Lorna headphones and an MP3 player. “Dance party in the back. Be sure to check it out,” he recommended cheerfully.

Dance party? This was a library, not a nightclub, and despite the buzz of all the flirtatious socializing, it was still a relatively quiet library. What on earth constitutes a dance party under those circumstances?

She headed to the back of the library to see if, perhaps, the party was a figment of the young man’s imagination. It was not.

In a clear area in front of the back shelves, there were about six tables for people to work on. But today, they weren’t working. They were dancing! On the tables! And on the floor. And in the aisles. Everyone had their headphones on and was moving and gyrating to the rhythm that was blasting in their ears but silent beyond them.

They were grooving to the music of their choice and enjoying the general festive celebration and the sheer joyous rule breaking of loud music in the library. Whose crazy idea was this? And was that . . . was that Miles dancing on the table? His new friend Harriet was keeping pace with him. They say that there’s someone for everyone. But who knew that was going to include Miles?

Okay. Her spell was certainly having some unforeseen consequences. But nothing too wild. Nothing too insane. Things hadn’t gotten completely out of control, had they?

As Lorna passed the utility closet on her way to the water fountain, she could hear some muffled laughter within. Oh, no. Perhaps she had spoken too soon. With great trepidation, she opened the door—to find her friend Melody engaged in a very heavy make out session with . . . with Dr. Svenson!

She shut the door on them quickly. This most certainly qualified as things getting out of control. But no one had to tell her that there was no putting this genie back in the bottle. What had she done?

*****

Every hour of the day, it felt like Lorna was doing or seeing something for the very first time in her life. She was fully aware of how small and constrained her life had been, and she knew it was a bit unbelievable to the outside world.

“You’ve never played pool before?” Max asked. “Okay, that’s a little bit hard to imagine. I don’t play great, but that doesn’t keep me from doing it over and over again. There are pool tables in every bar. Weren’t you curious?”

“I guess I’m not much of a barfly,” Lorna demurred. Which is to say that I’ve never been in a bar in my life.

But she was enjoying herself. The drink was very tasty, even though the bartender poked fun at her for ordering a mocktail. “Sure, it’s on the menu, but no one ever orders it. It’s for grannies.”

And no, she’d never played pool. It was sort of an embarrassing game to learn in public, because every beginner was so embarrassingly bad at it. But as Max leaned gently over her, showing her how to line up the shot and explaining where to hold her elbow and how hard to hit the cue ball, she quickly saw the appeal of it as a date game.

“So, the symmetry of it, the geometry of figuring out where the ball’s going to ricochet—that’s the important thing to figure out, I guess.”

“It is a bit of a physics and mathematical exercise,” Max agreed. “Also, hand-eye coordination. Also, good imagination. Because sometimes, there’s absolutely no way to get your ball in, and that being the case, you have to figure out a way to get your ball in.”

“How long does it take to get good? I mean, how long before I’m as good as you?”

“You can be as good as me by this time next month. I’m not that good,” Max confessed.

They shared a laugh. Then Max shook his head and looked at her thoughtfully.

“When I first saw you at the coffee shop, you tried to talk to me and I was as rude as all get out. And when I was jump roping with the girls and you tried to talk to me . . .”

“You were as rude as all get out.”

“Yes, I was. And I need to apologize for that. I looked at you and all I saw was a beautiful woman. And I thought I knew exactly what that meant. I thought I knew what type of woman you were. And I couldn’t have been more stupid or more wrong.

“I don’t know if I ever told you that my mother was killed. She was murdered. And the woman who murdered her was a beautiful woman. And that always stuck with me. That beauty was a mask capable of hiding great evil. Knowing that about my mother’s killer always made me distrust beauty.

“And of course, there’s just this general assumption that people have, that beautiful women have it pretty easy in life. Which I could never relate to, and which I know has not been the way that your life has been at all. You’ve lost just as much as I have, your mother and your father as well. Those things can’t be soothed by beauty.”

It wasn’t the whole story, and if he wanted to know her, then he really needed to know what her life had been like. She pulled a photo out of her wallet of herself, her face scarred and burned at its worst. So many times, she’d been tempted to throw it away. She could hardly explain why she held onto it. Now, she needed him to see.

“I was badly burned in the car accident that killed my parents. This is what I looked like for most of my life. This is what I looked like.”

She handed the photo to him and waited for his response. Max’s brain could hardly make the connection between the poor scarred girl in the picture and the gorgeous creature he had come to know. But close examination revealed the mind-boggling truth. It was indeed the same woman.

“How? How?”

“It was kind of a miraculous plastic surgery. I’d already been through a dozen other procedures. But I found someone who was able to work magic. So, yeah, now I’m beautiful. But my life has not been beautiful. I wish it had been. I wish I were one of those spoiled, entitled women that you assumed I was. I wish all of these years hadn’t been so painful and lonely and hard.

“I had a foster family too. But I saw more of the burn unit than I did of them. But I survived it. And I get to start out all over again, with possibilities that just never existed for me when I was younger. The possibility of being happy.”

Max put the pool cues back in place. He was no longer in the mood for lighthearted play. What Lorna had gone through was almost unimaginable. His first assumptions about her could not have been more wrong. What strength she possessed. Did he even have the right to ask whether she would share her strength with someone who was still not capable of envisioning a better future?

“Have you ever worked with children? I ask because I have a student who is so unhappy, and so the lonely, and so isolated that it breaks my heart. And I have no idea what to do for her. Would you consider maybe meeting her, and just advising me on what to do? We don’t have to single her out. You could come give a presentation to the class on pretty much anything. We have a lot of career days. Maybe talk about being a librarian.”

“No one wants to be a librarian. Young kids think it’s the dullest thing in the world. But yes, I’ll come and try to reach her. Of course, I will. What can you tell me about her?”

“She’s painfully shy. She has no friends. And she’s heavier than the other kids, quite a bit heavier. I think that’s mostly the reason she’s so excluded. But she’s as smart as a whip. And she has the most mature interests. She’s got a copy of the Wall Street Journal on her desk most mornings. She’s going through the stocks. Who does that when they’re fifteen?”

Umm, maybe an investment genius who could turn five hundred dollars into seven thousand in three short years?

CHAPTER TEN

 

Good thing that Lorna’s supervisor’s love life was going so well. She didn’t blink an eye when Lorna asked for a little bit of an extension to all of her time off. She had to help Max out. The murder was still very unsolved. And Finn Cochran had informed her that there was another important interview to conduct. To her great surprise, it was a revisit to see Jake Partridge.

“Yeah, when Mr. Westworld and his fiancée were saying how grateful they were to Stella’s book, which helped to get rid of the wrong woman, the judgmental woman, the prude, he forgot to mention that Stella Kirby received death threats from him after the publication of her book and after his first fiancée left him. And she had an ongoing restraining order on him. But she’s dead now, so I guess it’s not ongoing. The point is, he hated Stella, and she considered him to be a danger.”

“Geez. It sounds like he was really torn up at the time,” Lorna said. “Maybe he was able to get past it. Maybe he really sees it as a blessing in disguise now.”

“Or maybe he was full of hooey.”

“Or that.”

*****

This time, they needed to speak to Jake Partridge without his new fiancée nearby. There was no guarantee of his honesty, but if she was listening in, there was a high probability of dishonesty. He was still barking orders at his construction site and was none too pleased to see them again.

“Going to be needing a few more moments of your time, Mr. Partridge. Alone. Could you take a walk with us?” Finn made it sound like a request, but he did not look as if he was going to take no for an answer.

“Okay, but just ten minutes. This is a very busy day.”

They were soon out of sight range of the worksite.

“We also have many things to do, Mr. Partridge. So let’s cut to the chase. Death threats. Restraining orders. Why don’t you tell me about how okay you were with Stella Kirby’s book?”

“I . . . of course, being dumped by your fiancée is a very hard thing. One minute, you’re planning a wedding. You’re thrilled beyond belief that the most incredible woman in the world wants to spend the rest of her life with you. And then the next thing you know, she’s looking at you with disgust and your whole world is crumbling. And things will never be the same again. She ruined my life. Stella ruined my life.”

“But you met someone new,” Lorna reminded him. “You fell in love with someone new, and now you’re going to have a great life with her.”

“Kimberly is a very good woman. Very industrious. Very dependable. She’s going to make a good . . . partner. A good companion. But, I’m never going to feel passion again the way I did for Amy, the woman who should have been my wife. I still think about her every day.”

“Sounds like Stella ruined everything for you,” Finn said.

“Yes, of course she did. But if you’re implying that I killed her, might I remind you about that restraining order? How could I possibly have gotten anywhere near Stella Kirby? Now if you don’t mind, I really need to be getting back.”

As they watched him return to the construction site, Finn shook his head. “He had that alibi right at the tip of his tongue. Almost rehearsed. That’s never a good sign.”

“He made a mistake, and the love of his life couldn’t forgive him. I feel sorry for him. Don’t you feel sorry for him?”

“Don’t go into police work. You’re the biggest softie I ever met in my life.”

“I’m not a softie. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and . . . help out at the local high school.”

“Softie!”

*****

Walking through her old high school hallways didn’t bring back a single pleasant memory for Lorna. Back then, she had just kept her eyes low and tried to survive every uncomfortable day. But as always, she was reminded that now was very different than then. The teenage crowd was awestruck at the sight of such beauty in their midst.

She was standing outside Max’s classroom, waiting for his last class to end and for the next one that she would be addressing. She was practicing her speech and concentrating so hard, and gesturing with her hands, that she inadvertently swiped the cheek of a sixteen-year-old boy passing by. He flinched from her touch.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, barely able to meet her eye. He had a terrible case of acne, one of the worst she had ever seen. There was no doubt that he was feeling terribly self-conscious about it.

“It was so clumsy of me. I need to learn how to talk without waving my hands around.”

Lorna did her best to keep rambling, even though she was looking at something that was even more remarkable than the flowers springing back to life. The patch of skin that she touched on the boy’s face was now completely clear. It was still surrounded by large amounts of acne-scarred skin. How on earth was it going to be explained?

“I think I had a bit of skin cream on my hand that I accidentally got on your face. Sorry about that. I didn’t realize there was still some on my fingers. It’s a strong medicated solution. I hope it didn’t sting.”

“No, I’m fine.” The boy reached up to touch his face and was startled to feel the clear spot. No doubt he thought it was his imagination, and as he stumbled away, Lorna was fairly certain that he was headed straight toward the nearest mirror.

*****

The withdrawn fifteen year old girl’s name was London, and Max introduced her to Lorna before they entered the classroom and left them to speak one-on-one for a moment before class began.

“Your teachers care about you, London. I hope you know that. Mr. Crowe especially. I know right now that it must feel as if the kids don’t like you, as if there’s no way you could ever be comfortable and fit in.”

London could hardly believe that this really beautiful woman was taking the time to speak to her. “They don’t like me. They don’t want to be seen with me. Because I’m fat. Because I don’t know how to talk to people.”

Lorna put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Forget about it.”

“Forget about what?”

“Let’s go inside. I think you’re going to like this class. We’re going to be talking about the stock market.”

“That is so cool. That is one of my favorite things,” London said excitedly, shyness forgotten.

“But don’t be surprised if I need you to lend a hand to help me out.”

London beamed. How did this lady know that she had experience with the stock market?

*****

They were the perfect audience for this talk, tenth-graders with big dreams and no money. After Lorna had given them a chilling portrait of the state of the economy, including the likelihood that they’d still be living with their parents at age thirty, the crushing student debt they wouldn’t be able to pay off until they were fifty-five, the unlikelihood that they would ever own a home, and other alarming predictions.

“Unless you become very smart with money. Do you realize that if you had invested a thousand dollars in Snapchat when they first went public, you’d be sitting on over half a million dollars right now?”

That certainly got their attention. “And you sure wouldn’t have to live with your parents for the next fifteen years. Or never be able to afford to travel. Or stay in that rotten job that you hate for ten years, or twenty years, or your entire life, because it pays the bills and the thing that you really want to do may not pay a whole lot. Maybe you want to write songs. Maybe want to start a nonprofit. Maybe you want to be a yoga instructor. Very healthy lifestyle, but not a lot of money.

“The thing is if you have a solid stream of investment income coming in, it gives you a lot of freedom to live your life the way you want to live it. And when you start young, the sky’s the limit. You learn about investing now, you start investing in a few years, and you’ll be ready to be semi-retired by twenty-seven. And semi-retired just means doing whatever it is you want to do, and still knowing that the money will come pouring in.”

“How do we learn about it?” one boy wondered.

“You find an expert to teach you. Not me. I’m doing okay, but I know someone who’s had a lot more success than myself. London, I talked to one of the local stock traders in town and apparently, you’ve made quite an impression on the trading community. None of them can believe that their results are being beaten by someone who’s still in high school.

“I was going to offer everyone a few tips, but your classmates are better off learning from someone who is at the top of this game. By the time London is twenty-five, she’s going to be able to buy an entire house with cash. And since it gets a bit chilly up here in the winter, where is your winter home going to be, London?”

London grinned. “Cancun.”

“Anyone else here interested in having a tropical getaway some day?”

Several hands popped up in the air.

“Traveling around the world? Being able to afford your own new car? Creating a recording studio for yourself? Starting your own restaurant? Getting out of college without a dime of debt? Helping your parents to pay off their mortgage?”

By then, almost every hand was in the air.

“London, I know you haven’t had time to prepare anything, but can you give us a few general guidelines, some solid advice on how to get started?”

“You have to pay attention to the things that people are playing on their phone. To the things that they’re wearing. To the things that kids are nagging their parents for. You have to read about medical developments. You have to read about real estate issues. You have to read articles about new tech developments. And you don’t have to understand completely. I don’t have to know everything about AI to know that I ought to have some money in AI.

“And you start with fake money. You pick your stocks and your portfolio and you see how much money you would have made if you put actual money down. You take a whole year to figure it out. Until it becomes clear that you really can’t afford not to invest. And then you take the plunge.”

Lorna and Max watched delightedly as the other students hung on London’s every word. At least a dozen of them started scribbling down notes! She was turning into EF Hutton.

“You know what I always thought would be a great idea?” Lorna chimed in. “I know there are all kinds of afterschool clubs that are interesting and fun. But what about one that really sets you up for some financial security? I think an investment club would be an excellent idea. You could use one of the conference rooms over at the public library. And London could run it, because I can think of no one better qualified. If you want to get on the fast track, I think she can help point the way.”

The class started chattering excitedly. Max sent a very grateful glance in Lorna’s direction.

*****

As Lorna exited the classroom, the young man with the acne approached her with nervous excitement and agitation.

“That lotion that you accidentally got on me. Can I buy some of that? Or could you tell me where I could get it? It really works. I mean, seriously works. I really need to get a hold of it. If I don’t, I’ll probably look like this all the way to graduation. That’s three years. That’s . . . forever.”

There was, of course, no magic lotion. Only Lorna’s magic touch. But she did have a placebo in the form of a very ordinary skin moisturizer.

“It’s not on the market yet, and I have no idea when I’ll be able to get another bottle. So, it has to be used sparingly. I’ll put it on you because if you do it yourself, you’ll probably use too much. So, meet me out in the guest parking lot, and I’ll see what I can do.”

They met outside ten minutes later. It was very unsettling how fast the boy’s skin cleared under her touch. It was a beautiful miracle, but how on earth was he going to explain it to his family and friends? Well, there are worse problems. Without the problem skin, he was an extremely handsome young man.

“Try not to break any hearts,” Lorna teased him.

He reached up and felt the incredible smoothness of his own face. He looked at Lorna, completely overcome. She patted his hand.

“It was my pleasure. Now, if any of your friends should ever have a similar problem, send them to the Oyster Cove Public Library and have them ask for Lorna Sinclair. I might have a few drops left. All right. You have a great . . . life. Bye.”

How different his life was going to be. That was as satisfying as a love spell any day.

*****

It had been a day of good deeds and it should have been rewarded with a night of deep, peaceful sleep. But something kept fluttering in the back of Lorna’s mind. Something about witches. Something about Max.

Delphine had said that Max’s mother was killed by a witch and that he knew it. But of course, he couldn’t mention that to her because he didn’t know that Lorna knew anything about witches. He did, however, say that his mother had been killed by a beautiful woman. Which was it? A witch? Or a beautiful woman?

It was a ridiculously, unforgivably late hour when Lorna found herself ringing Delphine’s doorbell, unable to live with the uncertainty for another moment. Delphine appeared in a dusty rose house robe, looking as if she’d just been dragged from bed, but not tired in the slightest.

“You said that a witch killed Max Crowe’s mother. Who was the witch? Who was the witch who killed his mother?”

Delphine examined her latest protégé. “If you have come to ask me that question at three o’clock in the morning, then I think you must already know the answer.”

Lorna shook her head. She didn’t want to know. But of course, she knew. Max Crowe’s mother had been killed by Lilith Hazelwood.

*****

After Delphine had gently urged Lorna to go home and get some sleep, it was time for Lilith to weigh in.

“Arabella Crowe. I thought I had put an end to her. But you see what this means, don’t you?”

“I don’t see anything very clearly at three o’clock in the morning. Why don’t you give me a hint?”

“She was my most troublesome rival. If I had ever let my guard down . . . If my powers had been weakened by just the smallest degree, she would have gotten the best of me.”

“Instead, it was she whose powers were weakened. And it was you who was able to strike the final blow.”

“I hardly had a choice in the matter. Kill or be killed.”

“I don’t suppose you ever heard of ‘Live and let live.’”

“That requires a treaty that Arabella would never have signed. No, the quarrel between our families was an ancient one, and her one thought was to extinguish me. But I was the conqueror. And I was finally free of her. Or so I thought.”

“And what do you think now?”

“I was killed by a practitioner of the dark arts, and as I seek my vengeance from the grave, perhaps she did as well. It could very well have been her vengeance that was behind my demise. She would have needed earthly assistance, I think. From the one person I couldn’t lay a hand on— Maximilian Crowe. The Protected One.

“That is only speculation. And I have seen no evidence to support it. He does not seem to be in touch with the departed.”

“It cannot be ruled out. And his attachment now, to Lorna Sinclair, who carries my body in her . . . I suppose you will chalk that up to coincidence. But I think it bears a closer look.”

There was no arguing with Lilith. And if Delphine was going to be honest with herself, what she was proposing could not yet be ruled out. Arabella Crowe was not one to rest quietly in her grave.

*****

Lorna had known that the day would come when she would have to own up to her witch side to Max. Even though a witch had killed his mother, she always hoped that he would see that it was completely unrelated to her and who she was. There are good witches. There was Delphine, and there was Gillian Swann, whom she barely knew, but whose goodness was self-evident.

But now she could no longer say that she had nothing to do with the witch who’d killed his mother. Lilith Hazelwood was a part of her, and a growing part. She remembered touching the young teenager’s acne-riddled face. Lilith’s powers were getting stronger in her. How was Max going to react to this? Was it going to ruin everything? It wasn’t a secret that could be kept even another day.

She knew exactly what time he would be leaving school every day and waited anxiously by his car.

“Well, this is a very pleasant surprise,” Max boomed. Then he noticed her worried expression. “Something wrong?”

“I have something to tell you. Something very important. And I know you’ll be shocked. I just hope that you won’t . . . hate me.”

“I absolutely will not hate you. Wait a minute. Is there another guy? Because I have to admit, I absolutely would hate that. Even if I could never hate you.”

“You saw the picture of my scars and burns. It wasn’t a miracle plastic surgery that healed me, that changed my face, that made me beautiful. It was being the organ donor recipient of Lilith Hazelwood. A witch. The witch who killed your mother.”

Lorna never took her eyes off Max’s face. His whole body tensed at the mention of Lilith’s name.

“Lilith Hazelwood’s body was put inside you?”

“Yes. And her body was so filled with power that it took away my burns and gave me back my youth. I am forty-two years old, by the way, and it made me beautiful, much more beautiful than I ever would have been, even if the accident had never happened. It also left me with . . . some of her powers. I’m able to do some . . . unusual things, and I think that’s going to continue to grow.”

Max started pacing back and forth in front of her, quite agitated, almost unable and definitely unwilling to process what he was hearing. He stopped right in front of her. “You’re a witch! And the woman who murdered my mother is now a part of you. I don’t even know what to do with that. How am I going to be able to look at you and not think of that witch? That cold-blooded murderer who took my mother from me?”

“Because I’m not her. You know what I am. You know better than anyone who I am. I wasn’t presented with a choice, by the way. I had no idea what was being put in me. But even if I had, do you think I could’ve turned it down? What do her sins have to do with my life?

“I suppose you would say that if a person needed a heart or lungs, or a kidney, and the donor was a terrible serial killer, that the dying person should refuse the organ because of the sin of the donor. That is not so far from what happened to me. Lilith Hazelwood did kill your mother and others, and so she was a serial murderer.

“But her body helped to give me my life back, and I can’t regret that, and I don’t deserve to be blamed for it. You remember the photo I showed you. I could have worn that face for eighty years and then died lonely and miserable in my grave. Would that have been better?”

Lorna was pretty worked up. She had hoped that Max would be more understanding, but no such luck. She had to storm away before he could see her tears. What a miserable way for things to end.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was just as well that Lorna was in a downbeat mood on the occasion of Stella Kirby’s memorial service. Her sadness had little to do with the dearly departed, but if fit in well with the somber and sorrowful tone of the day.

It was marvelously well-attended. A room full of over two hundred people had come from all over the New England area to pay their respects. An empty closed coffin at the front of the room, surrounded with enlarged photos of the deceased, helped to bring back the immediacy of Stella’s departure.

There was almost no family represented besides Daisy Kirby. The relatives who lived at some distance had been informed that they were excluded from Stella’s will and consequently decided that they couldn’t spare the time or the cost of airfare to say their goodbyes.

So, almost all who were in attendance were her rabid fans, the entirety of her book club, a few business associates, including her lawyer, publisher, accountant, and techie, Shane. Lorna and Finn Cochran were there, with their own agenda—to mingle and find a murderer.

Even Stella’s enemies and detractors showed up—Elliott Guest, Celeste Piper, and Ivy Morgan—seeking a cathartic closure, perhaps?

It was a tediously long service. So many fans wanted to take their moment at the microphone to express appreciation to Stella for the enjoyment she had brought their lives. It was a useful opportunity to peruse the crowd. Who was in agreement? Who was bored? Who was grieving? Who was restless? And who was rolling their eyes?

It was quite a large crowd to sift through. Fortunately, the most useful lead was one that they didn’t even have to hunt down. He came right up to them after the ceremony—Stella’s publisher.

“Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Stella’s publisher, Lawrence Wilcox. Am I to understand that you are the police officer in charge of her murder investigation and that you have her computer in your possession?”

“That’s right. Officer Finn Cochran at your service. And this is Lorna Sinclair. Also, on the investigation. What’s this about her computer?”

“It’s just that, and I hate to discuss business under these tragic circumstances . . .”

“We didn’t know her. Go right ahead,” Finn said.

“She was just two weeks away from her deadline for handing in her second book – the highly anticipated sequel to Lobster Bay, After Hours. The sequel that we gave her a half-million dollars’ advance for. As you can imagine, that is not an investment that we want to forfeit. Even if she wasn’t finished . . . even if the final chapter has to be completed by a ghostwriter, that book is worth a very great deal to a publishing house. It belongs to us. We paid for it. And so, I need your assistance in retrieving the manuscript, as well as any notes or outlines associated with it.”

“That’s quite an investment. Sounds like you’re counting on the book to be a big hit.”

“Oh, there’s a good possibility it would be even more popular than the first. At least, that would be my best guess. She said that it was full of scorching hot revelations that top anything that was in her first novel.”

“Did she do the same thing?” Lorna inquired. “Did she talk about people who really live in Oyster Cove and use their initials so that people can guess who they are?”

“That is undoubtedly the strongest appeal of her books,” Mr. Wilcox confirmed.

“Scorching, huh?” Finn and Lorna exchanged a glance. “Sounds like we have some reading to do.”

*****

It was actually a relief, having something to occupy her mind. Stella’s new manuscript would keep Lorna busy all evening, and away from disturbing thoughts of Max and how everything between them was probably over.

Finn had given her orders to text him as soon as she ran across anything that could be remotely significant, and he would do the same. Although it had been a while since Lorna had read Stella’s first book, she remembered it as being moderately well-written and vaguely entertaining. But this one was just plain confusing. The central scandal appeared to have something to do with the dentist, a storytelling dentist who was continually engaged in acts of treason. His initials were TM.

It was the most disjointed, irrational piece of dreck that any publishing company could ever have shelled out half a million dollars for. What could Stella have been thinking?

Lorna’s phone buzzed with the text that read, “You’re the bookworm. You tell me.”

She texted back, “It’s absolute nonsense. Maybe not absolute. It feels like a puzzle that was put together the wrong way.”

“Like a weird cut-and-paste, as if they took out the right words and substituted ridiculous ones.”

“Exactly.”

“Why would Stella do that?” Finn asked.

“She wouldn’t.”

Finn’s response was a full two minutes of silence before he responded, “Meet me at the station in half an hour.”

*****

The police station was minimally staffed, it being so late at night. The few officers there watched with great fascination as Finn ushered Lorna into his office. Finn waved a warning finger at them. “Business,” he said emphatically.

He retrieved Stella’s computer and flash drive from the evidence room, as well as surveillance footage from their small conference room gathering.

“There might’ve been a few opportunities for people to get access to Stella’s computer before she died. But afterward . . . couldn’t have been anyone except Shane.”

He and Margo watched the footage of Shane as he accessed Stella’s computer, with everyone chatting and buzzing around him. He put the flash drive in immediately and afterward, shoved it into his pocket, which Finn had called him on. Shane had surrendered it so readily that it seemed unlikely that he was up to no good. But it was hard to be sure.

“Can you zoom in?” Lorna asked. “It’s really hard to see what he’s doing.”

“That’s as good as it gets. These rooms are wired for sound more than great video. We need some serious enhancement if we want to know what was going on here. That means petitioning for funds, sending it out for data retrieval . . .”

“You know something? I just met someone who has really excellent vision. Extraordinary vision. She might be able to help us out.”

“Now that you mention it,” Finn said, “I also know someone who’s got pretty unbelievable vision. I think I’ll give her a call.”

“Her vision couldn’t possibly be as good as the woman’s I’m thinking of,” Lorna protested.

“There’s no way that your person has better vision than my person.”

Of course, they were both referring to Gillian Swann, the possessor of Lilith Hazelwood’s eyes, that Lorna had met at Café Au Lait. Finn shook his head in disbelief when Lorna handed him Gillian’s card. Then he shrugged and made the call.

“Gillian. This is Finn Cochran over at the police station. No, yeah, yeah, we’re still on for dinner next week. But right now, I need you to bring your eyes down to the station. I’ve got a job for them. Okay. See you in ten.”

Lorna was amazed. “Do you know all the witches in Oyster Cove?”

Finn smirked. “I get around.”

Very shortly afterward, Gillian arrived and was delighted to see Lorna again. The feeling was mutual. But this was no time for a social reunion. Finn directed Gillian to look at the footage of Shane’s activities while he was working on Stella’s computer.

“Okay. He’s waiting for it to boot up. And he’s looking around to see if anyone is watching. And then he slips in the flash drive. He’s opening up her manuscript from the desktop. And he’s doing a find and replace for the word novelist. He says to replace it with dentist. And there are two hundred and seven successful replacements. He also does a find and replace on the word plagiarism, and substitutes it with treason. That’s odd. Forty-nine successful replacements. And then he does the same with the initials EG. They get replaced with TM. And then he saves it to her desktop and he saves to the flash drive. That’s weird. He messed up her novel, didn’t he?”

*****

Gillian, having done her good deed of the day, was free to go home after she secured a promise from Lorna to meet the following week for coffee.

“Do we give Shane a call?” Lorna asked.

“At this stage of the investigation, you never want to announce yourself. He’s got a new tech-support job at the computer center. Evening shift. He’ll be out in an hour and half. C’mon. Let’s get some fresh air.”

They drove over to the Promenade and got out to stroll along the storefront.

“Hey, when you and Gillian get together next week for coffee, tell Gillian to give my girl Margo a call to join you. I think she’d really like that.”

“That would be wonderful. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Well, she’s already heard about you. Bette made sure of that. So, I already explained that the two you are going to have quite a bit in common, and she was pretty stoked.”

As they passed the window of an upscale restaurant, the sight of Elliot Guest and Celeste Piper sitting in a window seat and pouring out a glass of champagne stopped them in their tracks. Seriously? On the same day of Stella’s memorial?

Inside, the happy pair were clinking their glasses together in a toast, when Finn and Lorna appeared at the side of their table.

“Champagne. Sweet. What are we celebrating?” Finn inquired.

They weren’t at all happy about the interruption.

“We were . . . uh . . . well, um—” Elliot stammered.

“I was just welcoming Elliot back into the book club,” Celeste said unapologetically. “He was one of the original members, the most brilliant literary voice in our community, and it will be a pleasure to have him back. And it will be a wonderful evolution for the club to return to its roots—its artistic roots.”

“Now that Stella is gone?” Finn asked.

“I know it may seem heartless. But a new situation has arisen and we have to make the best of it.”

“Well, don’t let us interrupt your . . . making the best of it. You two have a good night.”

*****

Shane was already immersed in a video game and enjoying the night breeze as he strolled through the computer center parking lot. But he came to a nervous halt when he saw Finn and Lorna leaning up against his car.

“Shane Whittle. This is going to be a very pivotal night in your young life. What you say tonight could land you in jail for obstruction of a murder investigation. Or it might earn you some leniency. So play it smart and answer all of my questions. Think you can do that?”

Shane nodded wordlessly.

“How much did Elliot Guest pay you to doctor up Stella Kirby’s manuscript?”

“Two thousand dollars. I know, maybe it wasn’t right. But what she was doing wasn’t right either. Talking about real people and embarrassing them and getting them into trouble. And she just laughed at all of them. Even her sister. Even her own sister. She was a pretty terrible person. So no, I didn’t feel bad about changing the book. She was just trying to ruin Mr. Guest’s life. Bad enough that she did that when she was alive. Why not put an end to it, now that she’s dead?”

“What does this mean?” Lorna demanded. “That Elliot Guest plagiarized all of his books?”

“No. Just the first one. He wrote the second book by himself. But the first one . . . I guess he found it in an attic somewhere, written by one of his dead uncles. So, he sent it in, and he got an agent, and he got published. And he got famous. But he wrote the second book himself. I’m not saying what he did was right. I just hated working for someone who was just so hateful, and I was tired of being part of it all.”

“Any evidence left of that original manuscript, with Elliott Guest’s initials in it and all the original words?” Finn asked.

“I destroyed it all.”

“Then, my friend, I hope you’re prepared to testify to this in a court of law. Otherwise . . .”

“Yeah. Of course, I will. But I don’t want to go to jail. You’re not going to put me in jail, are you?”

“Up to you. Now get going,” Finn ordered.

Shane leaped into his car and sped off.

“I’m feeling very sociable tonight,” Finn said. “You ready for one last visit?”

*****

Elliot Guest’s house was of a modest size, befitting a modestly paid community college instructor. But the interior was quite a bit more grandiose, more like a British gentlemen’s club, as befitting someone with Elliot Guest’s cultural pretentiousness.

“Mr. Guest. You did not write your first book, Fair Weather Friend, and Stella Kirby was about to blow the lid off your deception. Oh, you’re looking a little pale. Perhaps you should have a seat.”

“I . . . I–I’m not sure what has given you this misunderstanding. Of course, I wrote Fair Weather Friend. What makes you think otherwise?”

“The two thousand dollars that you gave Shane Whittle to get your initials out of Stella’s second tell-all. And he will testify to that.”

Elliott’s shoulders dropped, defeated. “So, this is it. This is the end of me. That will be my legacy—plagiarism. No one will remember me for the quality of my writing. For the awards that I got for my own writing. They’ll assume that the second book was plagiarized as well. But it wasn’t. It was all me. No one will care. My publisher will drop me. My agent will drop me. My fans . . . Celeste won’t even be able to look at me. My life will be ruined. I’ll be an outcast. And all of this because of Stella Kirby. Why couldn’t she mind her own business? Why did she take such glee in ruining lives?”

“Mr. Guest, did you kill Stella Kirby?”

“I was glad that someone else had done it. But I’m no murderer.”

Back outside, Finn assessed the distressed look on Lorna’s face. “Don’t say it. You feel sorry for him.”

“I do. Even if he’s innocent of murder, news of the plagiarism coming out will absolutely ruin his life. Such a shame. Everyone makes bad decisions, but this one really is going to be the end of him.”

“I’m not so sure about the innocent of murder part. He does seem completely out of his mind frantic about the thought of people learning about the plagiarism. I think he would’ve done anything to stop Stella from airing his secret. Anything.

“So, this is what needs to happen. There were a few unmatched prints in Stella’s house. Now we have the grounds for a warrant, to take Guest in and get his prints and see if they match the unmatched prints in Stella’s house. In the meantime, I’m going to tail him and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. You sit tight. This thing might be over very soon.”

*****

The following day, Max could barely focus on his classes. He was so preoccupied with Lorna and the bombshell she had just dropped on him. How could this be happening with the woman he was already planning on spending the rest of his life with?

As he was walking down the hallway, a young man ran after him. It wasn’t a student from his own classes, and at first, he didn’t recognize the boy, but then realized that it was the kid with a terrible acne problem he had seen in the hallways a hundred times. Except the acne was gone. His skin was smooth and as clear as . . . Lorna’s.

“Mr. Crowe. I just wanted to ask you to tell Ms. Sinclair how grateful I am about what she did for my skin. It’s changed everything. It’s like having a whole new life. I don’t even know how to thank her.”

“Of course. Of course, I’ll tell her.”

Later, in the middle of a class assignment, Max couldn’t help but notice that London had turned into quite the Queen Bee. Kids were buzzing around the stock market tycoon and London was glowing,. All of her old insecurities had vanished. She was going to be just fine. Lorna did that.

For so long, Max had meditated on how beauty can mask evil. Did it also mask the goodness and kindness of someone from him because of his blind assumptions?

He and Lorna had bonded over their mutual losses. Yes, they had both lost parents. But her scars . . . what a miserable cursed life she must have endured. And then life offered her one miracle lifeline. How could he have made her feel bad for grabbing onto it?

*****

Although she was feeling just fine, Lorna saw that she was scheduled for a follow-up exam with Dr. Svenson. There was so much going on in her life right now that perhaps it would be all right if she called and rescheduled.

“Ruby, it’s kind of hard to go in to see the doctor this week. Could we push the date on that?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you called. You were next on my list, actually. I needed to cancel your appointment. Dr. Svenson is out of town. He and Melody are in Vegas—on their honeymoon.”

It was the closest to fainting that Lorna had ever experienced in her entire life.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Delphine’s home was a soothing place. But neither the environs nor the cup of tea that she was pouring for her guest were likely to calm Lorna’s nerves.

“This is all my fault. This isn’t just flirtation and dates. They got married! And it never would’ve happened if I hadn’t done that love spell. It means I’m changing the course of people’s lives, and I don’t have the right to do that. Forcing people to feel love for one another. I never should have done it.”

“That’s not what the spell does, dear. It doesn’t force anyone to feel anything.”

“But it’s making everyone fall in love. You should see what’s happening over at the library.”

“There are many different kinds of love spells. And some of them are forceful. And manipulative. And ethically questionable. The one I taught you is one of the best kinds, I think. It doesn’t force anyone to feel love. But if you’re already the object of someone’s affection, it removes their fears and inhibitions and it compels them to speak their heart. That is all.

“So, you needn’t beat yourself up. The two people in question already had feelings for one another, I promise you. They were simply too afraid to voice them.”

Lorna started to come down from her panic. Perhaps she hadn’t done anything terrible. Melody and Dr. Svenson! Who would’ve thunk it?

“You did a wonderful thing with that love spell. As you’ve discovered, the opportunities for love and romance are plentiful for those who possess beauty. Not that beauty is an absolute prerequisite for love. You began loving Bella and she was far from a beauty. You’ve seen women so happy in love they can hardly stand it, who aren’t beautiful.

“And let’s be honest. I’ve never won any beauty contests myself. Oh, I’m pleasant enough. And I could have convinced any man I wanted to see me as a beauty. I just never saw where it would have made my life better. My life’s been pretty fantastic. That fellow of mine in Atlantic City—did I ever tell you I had a fellow?

“He’s quite a guy. Anyway, I have this little rule for myself. No magic in Atlantic City. It’s a little challenge for myself. Experiencing life like a commoner. Not unlike roughing it in the woods.

“Of course, my favorite scarf got stolen, and I didn’t let myself use magic to get it back. You know what my fella said? ‘Beauty such as yours needs no further adornment.’ Yeah, I know. He’s a keeper.

“We all need love. And some of us are luckier than others. Are we going to hog all that love to ourselves, or do we help share it? You have a special gift. You have a duty to help remove some of the impediments that stand in the way of people finding their happiness.”

Lorna’s eyes filled with tears. “I do want other people be happy. But I want be happy too. And now I don’t think I will be. Max . . . Max . . .”

Delphine looked off into the distance. “Maximilian Crowe is on his way to find you, right this moment. Time for you to be heading home.”

*****

Max was sitting on her front porch when Lorna drove up, with the most sheepish and apologetic look on his face. She sat down on the front porch steps beside him.

“Jorge asked me to thank you for what you did for his skin, for his life. Things are totally going to be different for him. Would you believe he already has a girl? Or at least, someone who really looked as if she would love to be his girlfriend. And London. I can’t thank you enough for London.”

“They’re both really sweet kids. I was so happy to be able to do something for them.”

Max nodded. “So . . . what are your other skills besides dermatology?”

“Apparently, I have a talent for love spells.”

“Did you . . . did you put a love spell on me?”

“The first time you met me in the coffee shop, when you were so rude, did you feel like you had a love spell on you?”

“Umm, not really.”

“And in the park, after the jump roping, were you feeling the love then?”

“Not at all. I couldn’t get away from you fast enough.”

Lorna couldn’t help but join him in a laugh.

“No, you are not under the influence of a love spell.”

“Then why do I feel so bewitched? I feel completely under your influence.”

“I’m only influencing you with the power of an ordinary woman.”

“That can be a whole lot of influence. I want to kiss you so badly.”

Lorna taunted him. “What’s stopping you?”

After he heard that, nothing was stopping him. Lorna’s first kiss. It had been imagined so many times and in so many dreams and daydreams. Was this just another beautiful daydream, or was this actually happening?

Max looked at her very intently. “Would you like to . . . would you like to . . . take this inside? Of course, we don’t have to. I don’t want to rush you. Ever. We can sit here. We can sit in the car. We can go to a movie. We can go out to eat. Whatever you want, and whatever you’re ready for.”

“I want to take this inside.”

Max leapt to his feet, and pulled Lorna up with him. “Excellent idea.”

More kissing followed on her living room sofa.

“I can’t believe how nervous I am,” Max chided himself. “I broke up with my last girlfriend over two years ago. I haven’t done this in a very long time.”

“Neither have I,” Lorna said, which was really stretching the truth.

“Well, you know what they say. It’s like riding a bicycle. You never forget.”

Lorna put an outstretched arm to hold Max at a distance while she tried to gather her courage. “I’ve never ridden a bicycle.”

“Oh, it was just a silly metaphor. You know, I was actually talking about sex.”

“So was I. I’ve. Never. Ridden. A Bicycle.”

It took several moments for that stunning revelation to sink in.

“You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I’m saying exactly what you think I’m saying.”

“But you’re . . . you’re—didn’t you say that you’re forty-two years old?”

“Yes, I am. But I’ve never had a boyfriend. Not in my entire life. And you know exactly what I looked like for most of my entire life. Men wanted nothing to do with me. So here I am, at forty-two years old, never having ridden a bicycle.”

Max could finally believe it. But it was astonishing news, nonetheless.

Lorna was a bit incredulous. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this actually seems like a bigger surprise for you than the whole witch thing.”

“Well, it sort of is. I mean, I knew that witches existed. But a forty-two-year-old—”

“Don’t say it. After tonight, it won’t be true.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked gently.

Lorna grabbed him by his collar firmly. “Are you kidding? If I’d had the nerve, riding a bike would have been at the very top of my bucket list. The very top. And if I was forced to narrow my bucket list down to three items, riding that bike would still be at the very top. Okay?”

That was all Max needed to hear. “If I’d had the nerve, then riding a bike with you would have been the first item on my bucket list. So, sounds like we’re on the same page.”

Lorna sighed with relief. At long, long last. She beamed. “You know, I’ve been doing my best to prepare myself for this. My overly helpful new friends have provided me with all kinds of manuals.”

She leapt up and brought back The Kama Sutra and a few other choice publications to show him. “These were very helpful. Although, if I had known that I would need them this soon, I would have studied a little harder.”

Max gently pulled the books from her hands and laid them aside on the coffee table. He took her hand and pressed it against his heart. “I’m your manual.”

Lorna laughed nervously. “Ah, one of those fancy 3-D manuals.”

“And fully interactive,” Max assured her.

*****

The next morning was filled with . . . more affection and more bucket list sharing. And Max got the opportunity to show off his cooking skills.

“What kind of food goes well with . . . bicycling?”

Lorna tilted her head. “Trail mix?”

“Okay. I think we’ve taken the bicycling analogy as far as it should go. No, omelets! We need omelets.”

As if life wasn’t good enough already.

*****

Lorna was in Dr. Svenson’s office undergoing a routine follow-up, but what interested her most was the doctor’s irrepressibly cheerful demeanor.

“Ruby tells me that you are now a married man,” Lorna began cautiously. “A Vegas wedding! I mean, I can’t fault your choice of bride. Melody is absolutely wonderful. But wasn’t that awfully . . . spontaneous?”

It was a very legitimate question. The doctor sat down close to Lorna. “You know I was married a very long time ago. And I had two beautiful girls. So, I don’t have any regrets about my divorce because it gave me my lovely daughters. And while I used to wonder if my obsession with my career was the thing that destroyed my marriage, I have to look back at all the lives that I saved, and if my marriage was the price to be paid, then I can’t have any regrets about that either. Nothing was more important than giving those sick people a chance to live long and healthy lives. So, no regrets.

“The funny thing is, for a man who has no regrets, there are still always regrets. I have seen such happiness around me, such happiness and love. And I wasn’t envious, you know. I was just happy for them. Truly. Because I knew that was not going to be my destiny.

“Melody? I have known her for years at the library. And I always felt her mind and her heart, and I always wanted to be a part of her life. But how could I even think that she might feel the same way? I couldn’t even entertain the possibility. And now she is my wife! What an apropos name, Melody. She is the music and the harmony that was missing and now fill me with such delight.”

His happiness brought tears to Lorna’s eyes. She couldn’t wish for anything better for her dear friend Melody. The world was starting to look like an unbearably beautiful place. Oh, except for the murder part.

*****

If Lorna thought that she was going to spend her first night with Max without undergoing an obligatory debriefing by her sex ed team, then she was sadly mistaken. In all likelihood, if she hadn’t agreed to meet with them, they would have hunted her down in the streets and conducted their interrogation in a loud and public fashion.

“The important thing is, don’t leave out anything,” Jules instructed.

“And did you have to tell him about the no experience thing, or were you able to fake it?” Chloe wondered.

“And don’t worry about the man’s ego,” Lexi directed. “We want to know whether or not this man did right by you.”

Their keen interest didn’t come across as nosy or gratuitous. Lorna was actually grateful that they took such a strong interest in her well-being. It certainly wasn’t a discussion she could have with her library friends!

“It changes everything, doesn’t it? I mean, we liked each other so much. But in the great scheme of things, we still didn’t know each other very well or for very long. Before our night together, sometimes we were on the same wavelength and sometimes not. Sometimes, he felt like a complete stranger, and sometimes, it felt that we had known each other forever. There was so much insecurity. Does he like me? Does he really like me? Will he still like me tomorrow? Is there anything about myself that might make him not like me?”

“Cut to the chase,” Chloe urged. “What about the sex?”

“Have you seen Phantom of the Opera? It’s the most incredible thing. It has to be my favorite musical. The movie is okay for visuals—great visuals. But, best to see it live. There’s this song and it’s called Point of No Return. I always knew that it was about sex. The Phantom is asking Christine, the young woman, to live with him forever in his underground isolation and renounce the world above to be with him. I always related so much to that character.”

Jules was willing to go with the flow. “So, if you were Christine, you would you have made the same choice that she did? Yeah, it’s one of my favorites too. So, who would you have picked?”

“She wasn’t the character I could relate to. Being the object of desire of two different men? No. I was the Phantom. When I watched that story, I was the Phantom. And Point of No Return means that the two people are about to be changed forever. And that’s exactly what happened with me and Max.

“Afterwards there was no more doubt and insecurity and questioning. Just certainty, and the sweetest security, and this unbreakable connection. That’s something that you all didn’t tell me. He and I are together now, and it’s everything I dreamed it would be. I remember something that he said to me when he was fixing the omelets—”

“Omelets? What kind of omelets?” Lexi demanded.

“I think he used Gruyere cheese and fresh mushrooms. And he used those tiny little red potatoes with onions to make homemade hashbrowns.”

The other three women salivated.

“Tell me that he was only wearing a towel. Because omelets and a shirtless man are a pretty unbeatable combination.”

“Well, after breakfast, his shirt did come off again,” Lorna recalled shyly. “And so much happened—it was such an experience. I know it’s insane, and maybe I’m just overly influenced by my doctor, who just got married out of the blue to someone he’d only been dating for a few days.

“It just feels like that’s where we’re headed. This is what they’re talking about in all those songs, and poems, and fairytales, and all the love stories. This is what they were all talking about. This is what the beginning of happily ever after feels like.”

Lexi, Chloe, and Jules looked at one another, incredulous. They had come for titillating details and they wound up with this dreamy reverie. None of them had heard anything quite like it. But it had the ring of completely unvarnished truth.

“Maybe we’re the ones who should’ve been taking notes from you,” Chloe conceded.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way about anyone,” Jules confessed.

“How about never?” Lexi admitted. “I’ve had a lot of fun in life. And I have no regrets about any of it, but . . .”

“Even when you don’t have any regrets about your life, there are always still some regrets.” Lorna remembered Dr. Svenson’s words.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Chloe teased.

That solicited a big smile from Lorna. “You three will be the first to know.”

She could see that they were happy for her. But she could also see that Lexi had drifted off into a lonely, envious state of mind that she recognized very well.

“Lexi. Do me a big favor and stop by the library tomorrow afternoon. There is something I need to show you. In fact, I need all three of you to stop by.”

It was very unusual for non-library personnel to walk into the rear employee office, so she’d have to fabricate a good excuse. But Lorna was going to make sure that her new friends passed through that magical portal. Because there was plenty of love to go around, and she wanted to make sure they got their share.

*****

Lorna’s private graveside conversations with her mother were heartfelt, but never all that eventful. She had dutifully informed her of any bucket list items that she’d ticked off in previous years. And she filled her in on the mundane day-to-day life at the library and her moderately exciting, but not really, game night awards.

But today, she really had something to talk to her mother about. Something that would have made her so happy and proud. She wanted to talk to her about Max, about making her own bucket list, and truly believing that she could create a great future for herself. It was the first time she had ended one of their conversations on such a euphoric high.

As she made her way to the cemetery exit, from a distance, Lorna spotted the very colorful and distinctive flower display that Daisy had bought for Stella’s grave. That small private ceremony had already taken place before the masses arrived for the public Memorial. It really was a truly lovely garland. Perhaps she could take another look at it, and more importantly, pay her last respects to Stella.

The garland was just as she remembered it, although already drooping just the slightest little bit at the edges. Taking a quick look around to make sure that she was alone, she laid her hands on it and watched it spring back to its lush freshness. There was a photograph framed and placed right near the flowers. Lorna recognized it as a cropped version of the picture that Daisy had shown her.

But . . . the original picture had been of Stella and her sister, Mina. This photograph was of Mina only. Stella had been cropped right out of it. And it was only then that Lorna noticed for the first time that she wasn’t actually standing in front of Stella’s grave. That was just an assumption she’d made because of the flowers.

She was standing in front of the grave of Wilhelmina Stevenson. That must have been Mina’s full name. And there was a matching gravestone very close by, Richard Stevenson. That must have been her husband.

But why had Daisy put the flowers on Mina’s grave and not Stella’s? Wilhelmina Stevenson and Richard Stevenson. WS and RS. It had to be. Stella had written about her own sister and her long-philandering husband. The husband that WS had worshiped unknowingly, even after he died. The WS who must have been devastated after she’d read her sister’s tell-all and realized what a betrayal her marriage had been.

Lorna took a closer look at Wilhelmina’s date of death. It was five days after the publication of Stella Kirby’s tell-all novel that heralded the twenty-year affair that Richard Stevenson hid from his wife. Death by heartbreak?

And where was Daisy in all of this?

*****

Between old city archives and the late Stella Kirby’s estate attorney, Lorna was able to figure out exactly where Daisy fit into this whole picture.

She had always referred to Mina as Stella’s sister, neglecting to mention that Mina was her own guardian. The woman had raised her from the cradle, sewn dresses for her, paid for her college education, and made her the entire beneficiary of her own estate.

Inadvertently, Mina had also left Stella’s estate to Daisy since Mina was Stella’s sole beneficiary, and the busy author had neglected to revise her will after her sister died. That was what the attorney had meant in the police waiting room when he talked about the multiple transfer of estates to Daisy.

Lorna had heard one cruel and thoughtless story after another about Stella Kirby. But trashing her sister’s memories of a beloved late husband—that was really unforgivable. Obviously, the stress and heartbreak were too much for the senior woman to bear. And the loss of her beloved guardian was too much for Daisy.

Elliott Guest was not the killer.

*****

On a hunch, Lorna returned to the cemetery. There, she found the forlorn and grief-stricken Daisy, in a large oversized cardigan, pressing Mina’s photo to her heart. Lorna walked up cautiously and stood beside her.

“Where did you get the poison?” Lorna asked quietly.

Daisy looked startled, and relieved, and devastated all at once. After a few deep breaths, she was able to speak. “You can actually buy it online. Off the dark web, I mean. It was Stella who gave me the idea. I went to her house to try to get pictures of Mina, but she wouldn’t give me any. All she could talk about was herself, her books, and her money. Her book club. She was the one who told me about The Name of the Rose. She thought the poisoned pages was a very clever plot twist.

“I don’t know if it would even have occurred to me if it weren’t for the whole disgusting finger-licking-page-turning thing that she does. But it was her cruelty to Mina and the story from the book, and it all just made sense to me. Stella didn’t deserve to live after what she had done.

“She never acknowledged responsibility for what she had done to her own sister. She said she was just telling the truth. And since everyone knew them as Mina and Dick, she said that no one would recognize their initials and there would be no harm done.

“But it wasn’t people knowing that was the problem. It was Mina knowing. Those memories of her husband were what kept her going. They were her last bit of happiness in the world. There was no need to take that away from her. There was no need to cut her life short like that.

“She should still be here. And whenever it would truly have been her time to go, she should have had that warm hand from the grave, cradling her as she went to join him. But because of Stella, she died in torment, alone. She died thinking that her life and her happiness were all a big lie. How could anyone do that to such a wonderful woman? How could anyone do that to their own sister?”

Daisy’s tears began to flow uncontrollably. “I know they’re too big, but I wear her old clothes just to have a little piece of her with me. I miss her. I just miss her. I just miss her. I can’t bear it.”

Lorna wrapped her arms around the sobbing young woman. What a thing grief is. She could never condone what Daisy had done, but she understood very well the blind grief behind it.

She let Daisy cry herself dry. And then gently led her to Lorna’s car and delivered her to the police station.

*****

Lorna had to tell Finn. And she had to tell Elliot Guest that they knew he was innocent—of murder, that is, not plagiarism. Of course, because his writing identity meant the whole world to him, and his awards and his reputation, losing all that would probably feel the same as being found guilty of murder. It actually would put him in a pretty desperate situation.

Oh, she hoped he wouldn’t try to hurt himself. Or . . . would he try to hurt the only witness who could testify to his crime?

*****

It wasn’t too difficult to get Shane’s address. Lorna raced to his house as quickly as possible and saw movement in the backyard. She approached cautiously and was greeted by the horrifying sight of Finn pointing a loaded gun at Elliot, who himself was pointing a gun at the head of Shane Whittle, who was tightly held in Elliot’s grasp.

Elliot looked at her desperately. “Don’t you come any closer to me. Either of you. Or I’ll kill him. I swear I will.”

Lorna looked at Finn. He didn’t have a clear shot. Shane had the most terrified look on his face. And Elliot looked like a man who could no longer think of a way out.

“Mr. Guest. We know that you didn’t kill Stella Kirby. The killer is already in custody.”

Finn raised an eyebrow—that was news to him.

“So, you’re in the clear. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not yet.”

“Of course, I have. The plagiarism. All of you know it. And soon, the whole world will know it. All the world will know me to be a cheat and a fraud.”

“But you’re not a fraud. At least, not in your second book. You wrote that yourself. Those were your words, your talent. And it was better than the first book. And you know that’s not just my opinion. You got so many more awards on that second book. You are a great writer. That’s no fraud.”

“But I’ve disgraced myself. And I . . . I don’t think I can bear to lose all of my reputation, all of my good standing. Every praise and every accolade will be withdrawn. Perhaps it’s what I deserve. I really don’t think I can live with it.”

He loosened his grip on Shane and pushed the boy away. He stared at the gun and slowly, slowly lifted it toward his own head. “What am I supposed to do with all of that shame, that guilt, that humiliation?”

Lorna’s heart and breathing had stopped. She could barely think. But barely was enough. “Forget about it.”

Elliott’s gun slowly dropped back to his side. “Forget about what?”

“Put your gun on the ground, Mr. Guest,” Finn ordered.

Elliott readily complied, and Finn quickly retrieved the weapon.

Shane was in complete confusion. “What did you do? You just did something to him.”

“Forget about it.”

“Forget about what?”

* * * * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: EPILOGUE

Daisy Kirby was sentenced to ten years in the federal penitentiary. It was one of the most lenient sentences ever received in the state for premeditated murder. Daisy’s heartfelt and undeniable grief over her beloved Great Aunt Mina affected judge and jury alike.

In the judge’s opinion, lovers aren’t the only ones who commit crimes of passion. An inconsolable, grief-stricken relative is also susceptible to it as well.

She was also perhaps fortunate that the judge was in a rather exuberantly buoyant frame of mind, having just fallen in love with one of the employees over at the Public Library.

Daisy would be around forty-two years old when she got out. Not a bad age for starting over, as Lorna could attest. She was relieved that Daisy had not received the maximum sentence.

“I liked her,” Lorna admitted to Finn.

“You are just . . . the biggest . . . yeah, all right. I liked her too,” he admitted grudgingly.

Lorna and Finn had briefly considered whether they were going to blow the whistle on Elliott Guest’s plagiarism. Ultimately, they decided that if it was what Stella Kirby would have done, it was probably the wrong road to go down.

*****

New couples were springing up all over Oyster Cove, most notably Lexi Stokes and her artist squeeze, Jordan Mack. She had been selling the man art materials for years.

“So, he’s just been this really quiet, considerate customer for years. And then, boom! He says he can’t stop thinking about me. He thinks I’m smart, which I am. And remarkable. Also true. It’s just not usually something that guys notice. Apparently, he was noticing me for a long, long time. I’m glad he finally worked up the nerve,” Lexi told Lorna.

The two of them had become devoted friends. While Lorna doubted that she would ever be able to tell Lexi about her witch life, she did eventually show her a photograph from her older, disfigured days. With the obligatory plastic surgery explanation, of course.

Lexi was almost speechless. And she had given Lorna the biggest, longest hug.

“You were the Phantom. You really were,” she realized.

*****

Just several months after her rescue, Bella was nearly unrecognizable. Her vividly colored fur was a gorgeous orange and black, like a baby tiger, and it had filled in, thick, lush, and beautiful. Lorna asked Delphine if Bella had any sort of magic to thank for her new beauty.

“No magic required. I think her transformation can be chalked up to antibiotics, good nutrition, and being spoiled rotten.”

Spoiled rotten was no exaggeration. Bella was the VIP of the library staff. She was frequently presented with gifts, from gourmet snacks to exercise equipment. Kitty sweaters in the winter, and a breezy fan for hot summer days. Not a bad life for a runt!

*****

Although Lorna had assured Max that there were plenty of good witches around, he was still unnerved by how appealing and trustworthy he found Delphine. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk to someone who would have known his mother, even though Lorna had told him to brace himself for a potentially negative portrait.

“Did you know her well? What was she like?” he asked.

“She was powerful. And forgive me for saying so—she was ruthless. Rivalries and grudges can be the undoing of so many in the history of our community, and she was very much ensnared in that. No one deserves to be killed. But had she not been murdered, she most likely would have murdered. That is the plain truth of it.”

Max looked crestfallen. “So, she was a bad person. She was an evil person.”

“No. She was a ruthless person. There is some difference. She was not without a heart. In fact, the thing that I remember about her the most, the truest and most lasting impression I had of her, was how deeply she loved her little boy, her little Maximilian.”

Max inhaled deeply.

“I don’t think she would have had anything to do with Oyster Cove community life if it hadn’t been for you. But on so many occasions, I would see her at a local parade with you perched on her shoulders so you could see high above the crowd. When the summer fair came to town, I remember her holding you up on the merry-go-round when you were barely old enough to walk. And her going on the Ferris Wheel with you.

“I remember the Ferris Wheel. She brought some kind of medicine along in case I got queasy.”

“Do you remember her teaching you how to garden? She had a very large patch of herbs on the side of your house, and I saw her there instructing you on more than one occasion.”

“The herbs are still there. When I was a teenager, I had someone come out to identify them so I would know how to replace the ones that were fading out.”

“And do you remember walking in the rain with her? The other parents in town thought she was being terribly negligent. But you loved stomping in the rain puddles. And she was very indulgent—anything to make you smile and anything to make you happy. You were never lacking for love, that’s for sure. And I found something for you.”

Delphine opened a table drawer and pulled out a newspaper clipping. “This is a Fourth of July parade that she took you to. When I saw it in the paper and saw that Arabella and her little boy were in the picture, something made me cut the clipping out. I didn’t know why. And now I do.” She gingerly handed the very old, yellowed clipping to Max, who received it reverently.

“Did you . . . ever know who my father was?” Max asked without much hope.

“As a matter of fact, I did. Or rather, I should say that I do, since he is still very much amongst the living.”

“How do you know?” Max asked incredulously.

“Because he stops by every fall to check on my furnace. That’s what he does—furnace and air conditioning repair and maintenance. Sam Wilkie. Nice guy. Very nice guy.”

Max’s eyes widened excitedly. “I know him. I know him. He is a great guy. My father is a great guy.”

“But you have to understand, your mother didn’t have much use for long-term relationships. She was a love ‘em and leave ‘em and compel them to forget that they ever knew her kind of gal. You can’t tell him who you are. Because as far as he knows, he never met Arabella. And he’s going to have you hauled off to the funny farm if you press the matter.”

“But I can be friends with him.”

“Sure. But it would help if your AC was broken. And not with a sledgehammer.”

“I’d have to do it in a way that felt like a normal malfunction.”

Delphine smiled. “As it so happens, I do know someone who has a talent for breaking things.”

*****

Lorna, Max, Finn, and Margo, a young woman with long, dark curly hair and an adorable heart-shaped face, had all gathered around Max’s air-conditioner.

“You help people to fall in love. That is so much nicer than being able to break things,” Margo said to Lorna.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” Finn objected. “That talent of yours is exactly what’s going to save the day.”

“I think your biggest talent is probably turning this tough guy into a pile of mush any time your name is mentioned,” Lorna tattled on Finn.

“Hey, stop rattin’ me out. Now honey, break the man’s AC.”

Margo fingered the machine. “Refracta!”

They all heard a loud mechanical crunch inside as the machine quickly stopped functioning.

“Great,” Max exulted. “Let me give Sam Wilkie a call.”

By the time Max had set up an appointment for much later that evening, the apartment was already starting to get extremely warm.

“I don’t think we really thought out this whole broken AC thing carefully,” Finn observed. “We need to get out of here.”

“How about Barcelona?” Margo suggested. “They’ve got great sangria.”

It was unanimous. Later, at the very crowded restaurant, it looked as if they were probably short-staffed for the evening. They hadn’t even had time to clear way some tired flowers from the vase on their table. Lorna took the vase and held it under the table, away from uninitiated eyes, and then restored it to a heavenly rainbow of floral perfection.

Finn gave Lorna a sideways glance. “Not lame at all. I stand corrected. That was way cool.”

It was a glorious evening. They were all young (ish) and in love, with some of the only people in the whole world with whom they could discuss their witch secrets. And vicariously, they could all feel the joy of Max’s impending encounter with his father.

*****

Not surprisingly, Lilith was greatly inconvenienced by yet another one of her transplant heirs finding love and happiness. But this one was especially galling.

“Arabella Crowe’s son has his hooks in her. She will never pick my side over his.”

“Well, never say never,” Delphine said. “However, the situation is very close to never. I’m afraid you’ll have to count Lorna out.”

“What a waste. Such beauty could have been put to good use.”

“I think her beauty will be put to good use. Just not to your use.”

“That leaves three others. One of them has already provided assistance to Arabella’s son. Worse, every single one of them has been compromised by the distractions of love. You should do more to discourage it.”

“I will try to encourage Dr. Svenson to find someone next who is both needy of organ and unlovable. He may be hard to persuade though. After all, the man is a newlywed and is doubtless spreading propaganda about the glories of love. You are outnumbered, Lilith. Did you never fall in love?”

“That is a fairytale and a weakness. Of course, I had favorites. There was . . . one . . . whom I allowed to remain for quite some years. For my own benefit, of course.”

“Of course. Did you allow him to keep his memory of you? You did, didn’t you? Just when I thought nothing could surprise me.”

“Well, he was greatly cheered by the memory, and it did me no harm.”

“Softie.”

Lilith departed in an exasperated huff. The sole purpose of her existence now was to find and punish whoever had killed her. Her vengeance was a sharp blade, and there wasn’t going to be anything soft about it.

Notes from the Author

 

Be sure to check on Amazon.com for the entire One Part Witch Series.

Next up: – coming in March 2018

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Iris Kincaid