Epilogue
One week later…
“You guys have everything?” I asked Coop and Trixie as they packed up their car with the last remaining boxes from the store.
A week had passed since the death of Hank Morrison, and Coop had been cleared of all charges. Dana was able to share with us more evidence they’d found against Pricilla and Francie. Namely, the searches done on Pricilla’s laptop about the substance in Visine that was so harmful to Hank due to his heart issues. After that last visit from the police, we all breathed a sigh of relief.
Some of the finer details of that night when I’d battled it out with Francie and Pricilla emerged in increments. One of which was why Win had called out Coop’s name in the middle of such chaos. Seems we’d both forgotten she could hear Win, and when he remembered she could at just the right time, he’d decided it was worth a shot, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that.
Poor Whiskey had a knot on his head after Francie had clocked him with the handle of her ax because he wouldn’t stop jumping on her. But the vet said he was just fine, and he’d recover fully.
Because the girls had no place to stay while they figured out their next step, they’d stayed with us—and it had been a week of many things.
Mostly, it had been a week of blossoming friendship. I’d grown quite fond of these two women, and Livingston for that matter. He could call me a pretty lady with that Irish accent all day, every day.
Trixie had promised, once they’d settled, to see if she could find out any information about the artist who’d inked the tattoo Win described to her—and she’d sketched for him in glorious detail. She truly was gifted. And I had a standing invitation with Coop if I ever wanted a tattoo of my own.
I was going to miss them terribly when they were gone, Livingston included. Sadly, the girls had opted to leave Ebenezer Falls. The store was a mess, and with it now in probate until the courts could decide who it should be given to for management, it forced Trixie and Coop to make a decision.
So last night, to show them what being a part of a community rich in love and support (even if we had our differences) was all about, we had a big spaghetti dinner with Enzo, Carmella, Dana, and Melba. We’d laughed. We’d toasted new beginnings. We’d drunk too much wine. We’d laughed some more.
And today, with the warm sunshine beating down on our heads, and the sounds of Whiskey playing fetch on the lawn with Bel in the background, they were leaving, and I was woefully depressed.
But I plastered a smile on my face and said, “So I guess you’re leaving me for that life you talked about wanting, huh? Fine friends you are.”
We all stood out in the driveway by their newly fixed car, the Puget breeze blowing in our hair. Sailboats floated by in a colorful array, and the waves passed, frothy and rolling.
Trixie burst out laughing under the noonday sun, her chestnut hair glimmering, her eyes bright “After seeing you, Stevie. After watching you live your life, even with all the hardships you’ve suffered getting here, with all the adversity, and witnessing all the people and love you’ve accumulated since you lost your powers…it gives me hope. You know that, right?”
My throat tightened at Trixie’s words. No one knew better than I how hard it was to start over again—to leave everything you loved and try to make it on your own. We’d both been forced to do just that. Me from Paris, and her from the convent.
I winked. “I’m glad you found hope, Sister Trixie Lavender. What’s the point of life if there’s no hope?”
She grinned. She’d done that a lot this week, and it made my heart happy. “And that’s all because of you. You didn’t just clear Coop’s name, my friend. You gave us an eyeful of what living really is, and we want that. I want that. I want to live, and experience, and laugh, and make friends. I want to be a part of a community, and have people over for spaghetti dinners the way you do. Lots and lots of people.”
Coop nodded, rubbing her nonexistent belly. “I want spaghetti dinners, too, Stevie Cartwright. Yes, I do. Spaghetti is delicious.”
I looped my arm through Coop’s and gave her a squeeze. “I wish you a thousand spaghetti dinners, Coop the Demon, and then a thousand more.”
She gave me her point blank stare as the wind blew her gorgeously silky hair around her face. “I like you, Stevie Cartwright. I like you very much. You’re a very nice human. Will you always be my friend?”
I threw my arms around her neck and gave her the tightest hug I could summon, and whispered, “Always, always, Coop.”
And wonder of all wonders, Coop hugged me back before firmly setting me from her, and then she gave me that awkward pat on my shoulder to let me know she appreciated me.
I held out my arms to Trixie, my eyes welling with tears. “I wish you guys would reconsider staying. It would be so nice to have people living right here in Eb Falls who really understand what it’s like to have those two men in my ears all the time and won’t call me crazy for the having.”
Trixie gave me a hard squeeze before leaning back and cupping my elbows. Her smile was watery and her voice full of emotion. “I wish we could, too, Stevie. You’ve been so kind to us, and I’ll never forget everything you’ve done. But I think too much has happened here in Eb Falls for us to stay—we need a fresh start. Plus, the store is kind of a mess with all the broken glass. We can’t afford to fix that, and the police told us they didn’t know how long the store would be tied up as evidence or who it would belong to in the end. But we won’t be far. Just in Portland. So I expect to see you at one of my spaghetti dinners really soon, okay?” she whispered, a tear falling down her porcelain cheek.
I wiped it away with my thumb and grinned, fighting my own tears. “I’ll bring the wine. Now off with you both before I change my mind and beg you to stay. And I warn you, I can be veeery persuasive. I’ll cling to Coop’s leg, and cry and plead, and things will get really ugly, really fast.” I gave Livingston a kiss on the top of his head and scratched him between the ears.
Stepping away from their car, I shooed them off as Trixie got into the refurbished rust bucket Caddy and started the engine. It turned over with a purr, just like Win had promised when he’d offered to have it fixed for them.
“Godspeed, Coop,” Win said, his husky voice full of emotion. “May your journeys always fare thee well.”
Coop broke out in one of her very scarce, but certainly infamous grins and saluted the sky. “Aye-aye, Captain. Thank you, Crispin Alistair Winterbottom. Thank you very much for all your help.”
With that, she hopped in the car, pulled Livingston to her lap, and then they were gone, leaving nothing behind but the scent of gas fumes and the sound of Trixie’s tinkling laughter.
Sighing, I looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful day, easily seventy and climbing, puffy clouds smooshed together, and the sun was a ball of butter. How quickly the weather had turned from last week’s blizzard. But I felt an empty space in my heart where Coop and Trixie had grown, and I couldn’t enjoy it.
“Don’t be sad, Dove. We’ll see them soon enough.”
I walked to the front steps, once covered in snow, now covered in planters filled with pansies, courtesy of Chester and Enzo. “I know we will. It was just nice to have people who truly understand what it’s like to live in a human world when you know the paranormal exists. It’s not like I can confide in anyone here in Eb Falls, you know?”
“Ah, but you can confide in me, Stephania. I’ll always listen.”
And I knew that was true, but I was still sad. “Yep. I know. But you’re not here-here, you know what I mean?”
“Well, someday, I hope to be there-there. What say you to that?”
Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my vintage Jordache jeans, I rose and turned toward the front door. “I say you’d better not do anything stupid. I can’t understand a darn thing about the plans for that gazebo, and I’m pretty sure, control freak that you are, you’ll want to be here to explain when Enzo builds it or we’ll end up with, heaven forbid, a tree house.”
“The horror,” Win teased.
Heading inside, I inhaled deeply the sweet scent of home, where I’d placed daffodils that had finally bloomed in a glass vase on the table by the entryway. “Indeed.”
“So do tell, Dove, are you mysteried out for the time being?”
“You know, I know you guys think I love this mystery business a little too much, but this one? This one was tough. I never really figured out who the killer was. I didn’t have time with everything going on with Coop and Trixie. It was all just handed to me in confessional fashion.”
“Ah, so the challenge is digging around and finding your own answers, eh?”
I bobbed my head with a smile. “I guess so. Either way, I think I’m good for a little while. So what say we go wash away Stevie’s blues with a couple of Twinkies and a tall glass of milk?”
“Ugh, Stephania. Can’t we wash it away with something more sophisticated? Say a lovely zinfandel and some tea cakes?”
I stopped in the entryway and looked up at the ceiling. “What the heck are tea cakes? Is that anything like spotted dick?”
Win garbled a laugh. “Nay, Stephania. Nothing at all.”
“Still sounds fishy to me. I’m settling for Twinkies, and you’ll just have to like it. Besides, I thought this was a wash-Stevie’s-blues-away party. Don’t you want to see me happy?”
“Always, always. Dove. Always.”
The End
(Thank you so much for joining Stevie and gang for another Witchless in Seattle installment! I know you waited a long time and your patience is much appreciated. I hope you’ll look for Trixie and Coop in their own story, Then There Were Nun, the first book in the Nun of Your Business Mysteries. Until then, happy Spring—may all your journeys fare thee well!)