CHAPTER TEN

Delphine took a great deal of pride in her crab cakes, and deservedly so. Erin was positive that nothing she was going to have at the lobster bake could be as delectable. And the sauce! What was that? Cilantro?

It was great to see Martine again. The witch community was a very small club, and the subsection of it that resulted from a transplant from Lilith Hazelwood—that was a posse that had to stick together.

“Do you enjoy your work as a dental assistant?” Delphine asked.

“It’s a good job. It didn’t take long to train for, and the work isn’t difficult. The dentist I work for only works part-time hours, which worked out great when I had to go in for treatment so often.”

“I think what you’re trying to say is that your job suited your old life and old prospects very well,” Delphine said “But that’s not who you are anymore. Your new abilities will eventually demand to be used.”

Martine chimed in, “I never thought of being the weather girl. Not in a million years. I was a hacker, for heaven’s sake. And when the worthy occasion arises, I still tap into those skills a bit. But doing the weather is cool. It’s life or death for the fishing community.

“And for everyone else, they just like to be able to celebrate those big events in life—weddings, birthdays, graduations, and to know which days to plan them on. They think I’m some kind of savant. They’re really starting to rely on me. People went into such a panic when they heard that I was going be gone for two weeks on my honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” Erin asked.

“That’s right. Honeymoon! In one month! But I’ve already written down and recorded all the forecasts for the time I’ll be gone. So, the fine citizens of Oyster Cove will still get their weather reports.”

How wonderful. Martine was getting married. Erin sure hoped that she got a chance to meet the lucky groom. Marriage was something that she had long assumed that she’d missed the boat on. And it was true that Martine was at least ten years younger than herself. Does happily ever after happen to the twenty-years-past-high-school crowd?

“And Delphine, you promised to finally introduce us to your guy,” Martine reminded.

“You have a guy?” Erin asked.

“Yes, dear, this old lady has a guy. And I won’t even ask what you’re implying. There’s no age limit for love or happiness, you know.”

“Yes, but . . . I mean, I’m happy to hear it. Not only because you deserve it, which you do. But it means that maybe there’s still a chance for me. You know, wedding, honeymoon . . . baby. Oh, I really am thinking way too far ahead.”

“Way too far ahead about whom?” Martine asked. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“We barely know each other. I mean, actually, it feels like we really know each other. But it’s only really been a week. But I already feel . . . Martine, how long were you and your fiancé dating before you knew that he was the one, that you were going to get married?”

“Before we knew we were going to get married . . . about four dates. Possibly three. It’s because I can see the future. I knew he was the one I was going to be spending my life with. And I really needed to have that certainty. Maybe not everyone does, but I sure did. I trusted him. I never worried that I was making a mistake. You’re also going to have a special advantage when it comes to love.”

“I am?”

“You’re going to know exactly what he’s thinking. He can’t lie to you. He can’t deceive you. Is he crazy about you? Does it feel like he’s just settling while biding his time for something better? That’s just an example—having nothing to do with your situation! I’m just saying, you’ll know what’s in his heart. And you’ll be able to trust it.”

“I guess that’s a good thing. But it also feels kind of intrusive.”

Delphine scoffed with exasperation. “This is far too much guilt and second-guessing. Witches must have a slightly different code of ethics. It is never a sin or wrong to exercise your natural capabilities or to use them to your advantage or to the advantage of people you care about. I don’t want you holding back, Erin. You need the practice to fully mature your powers. After that, I will show you how to control them with more precision. Like an on and off switch, if you’d like. But on to more pressing matters. Tell us all about him.”

*****

Delphine had just said goodbye to her two young friends when there was an angry rapping on the door. She knew that it was Fiona even before the door was opened.

“What were they doing here?” Fiona demanded.

“Come in, Fiona. I don’t believe you’ve ever been in my home.”

“Do not think that you can keep secrets from me forever. I’ll ask one more time—what were they doing here?”

“Eating crab cakes and talking about love. Nothing that you would take a great interest in,” Delphine assured her.

“Do you plot against me?”

“Why? Have you engaged in an action worthy of retaliation?”

“That is not an answer. I have watched you, Delphine Sykes. One by one, you have taken them all under your wing. You teach them, influence them. Perhaps organize them. Perhaps it is your intention to unite their strengths to do the bidding of Lilith Hazelwood. I should have known better. I should have known that death alone would not be enough to rid this town of her.”

“Did you kill Lilith?”

“How could someone of such inferior ability such as myself kill the most powerful witch in the entire land?”

“Obviously, she wasn’t invincible, and someone did kill her.”

“Are you creating an army to avenge her?”

“What if I were?”

“That is not an answer.”

“Only the murderer need fear that outcome. Crab cake?”

“No! I do not want a crab cake.” Fiona left in a huff, snatching a crab cake on her way out.

Lilith may not have been entirely predictable in life, but Delphine had become extremely attuned to her patterns in death. She knew that Fiona’s visit would not go undiscussed, and she also knew that she wouldn’t have long to wait. She was right. Fewer than twenty seconds after Fiona’s departure, an agitated Lilith appeared.

“She will not confess,” Lilith complained.

“That does not equate with guilt.”

“She rejoices in my death. That alone is reason for punishment.”

“Lilith—I hope you find justice against your assassin. But have no thought of punishing people for rejoicing in your demise. They are far too many in number. If you recall, you wielded your power rather cruelly.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Lilith said, drifting off into an uncharacteristically satisfying moment of nostalgic reflection. “I have many fond memories of wielding that power. It would only have been more gratifying if the commoners had known exactly how terrifying I could be.”

It was Lilith’s brand of reminiscence. This was one mean girl who was unlikely to ever change.

*****

Men think about sex a lot. A lot. A lot. A lot. A lot. It’s probably a very good thing that most women, while suspecting this large quantity of thoughts, don’t actually have to listen in on them. Goodness. There didn’t seem to be an object or activity that didn’t lead Orlando’s thoughts to hopeful reminders that he might soon be treated to the awesome sight of Erin’s naked body.

They were reclining on a large beach towel at the lobster bake, taking in the mouth-watering buttery seafood smells and watching her classmates frantically take advantage of their next-to-last event together, save for the large final dance the following evening.

Orlando was very much fixated on Erin, but whenever his eye wandered away from her, his thoughts brought him back around. Ice cream cones, large oatmeal cookies, the billowing sails of nearby boats . . .

“There is no part of my body that looks like a seashell,” Erin protested. Well, maybe just a little.”

Even the sight of an attractive bikini-clad woman brought Orlando back to the thought of how sexy Erin would look in a swimsuit. How could she hold that against him? Martine had been right. It was a pretty big advantage to know everything about a man’s feelings for her. But she could also see his lingering questions and insecurities about how she felt about him.

That was blatantly unfair. Orlando didn’t know half as much about her as she knew about him. And she was carrying around a really big secret that he surely had the right to know. After all, his thoughts were being continually read by his new girlfriend—the witch. In a way, it was far bigger than the secret that he had eventually revealed to her, less traumatic, but huge. Would it make him feel too exposed? How would she feel if the tables were turned?

“So, after all this is over, I hope you know that you’re absolutely going to have to take me out for a kayaking lesson,” Erin said, hoping this topic would provide a little distraction from more carnal thoughts. It worked. For at least five . . . maybe as long as ten minutes. Clearly, it had been a long time since Orlando’s last girlfriend.

One surprising arrival at the large gathering was Wesley Gorman, and he was most definitely not there for lobster. He was making a beeline straight for Erin.

“Mr. Gorman, what a surprise.”

“Yeah, I really appreciate you and that cop letting me get some photos of my dad. They mean a lot to me. But I was wondering if you could help me with something. I’m just confused about exactly what’s happening with the dates.” He pulls a few photos out of an envelope.

“A lot of these have a handwritten date on the back. Some even have a timestamp. Remember I told you that we were his second family, my mom and me, and that’s why we didn’t get the money? But these photos are from when he was with Regina Gorman. Some of them seem to be have been taken after I was born, and that’s crazy.

“That can’t be true, because he died when he was with us. That much I remember. I remember his being there, and not being there, and being told that he’d died at the hospital. That was when he was living with us. So how are these photos dated after he married my mother? I was just wondering if you could help me figure out exactly what’s going on.”

Erin took the photos and checked out the dates—twenty-two years previously. Well, they knew that Alex Gorman had committed bigamy. “What kind of job did he have? Did he go out of town often?”

“Yeah, he had to. He was a traveling . . . he . . . he had conferences all the time. It was one of my mom’s biggest regrets that they had spent so little time together while he was alive. He was out of town all the time.”

Erin and Orlando exchanged glances. “I think that he might have been out of town in Oyster Cove. The two marriages weren’t just legally overlapping—they were actively taking place at the same time. Which means . . . there’s a possibility, maybe even a good chance, that his marriage to your mother was his first marriage. The bad news is that he cheated on her. The good news is that she would be entitled to his inheritance, and you could probably contest for Regina Gorman’s estate.”

This should have been exciting news, but Wesley looked aghast. “The money should have gone to us all along?”

“Maybe. It has to be confirmed,” Erin cautioned.

“But if I’d known that . . . If I’d known that, everything would be different. That’s messed up. That is so messed up . . . Geez. The cops are here. I’ve gotta get out here.”

He grabbed the photos from Erin and hightailed it in the opposite direction of the approaching Finn Cochran. Erin almost felt like running herself. She didn’t want Finn blabbing to Orlando that she had ever nailed him as a murder suspect, nor mention anything about her witchy powers.

“Do you mind going and getting us a couple of bottles of ice water?” she asked Orlando sweetly.

“My pleasure.”

He was way out of earshot by the time Finn Cochran reached her.

“What is Mr. Gorman doing at an alumni event?”

“Trying to figure out whether Regina stole his mother’s money. I think he’s going to need to hunt down the original marriage certificate.”

“Why did he run off when he saw me? Is he back on our list of suspects?”

“I wish I could say for sure. He’s behaving oddly, with a lot of stress and regret. But his thoughts are so jumbled right now. But you didn’t know he’d be here. What are you doing at an alumni event?”

“There are a few statements from witnesses at the pool party that needed to have a few more facts filled in.”

“My wife is working late tonight, I heard you all were having a lobster bake, and I was pretty sure that if I showed up and hung around long enough, someone was bound to offer me a big plate of food.”

“Shameless. You’re absolutely shameless.”

Finn just then remembered that Erin could read his ulterior motives. “Oh, yeah. So, you know exactly why I’m here. I’d blush, but I’m too hungry.”

“Go ahead and do your phony follow-up questions. And then get in the buffet line.”

“That’s very understanding of you. Although . . . if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll hit the buffet line first and then do the phony questions.”

“Go,” Erin ordered.

As she watched Finn stroll away on his errand of hunger, she could see that Orlando was being held up by a chatty classmate. He waved at her from a distance. No problem. It gave her time to do some interesting people watching. And people listening.

Ms. Kipling had come to the event and was huddling with Jasmine Plummer, patting her gently on the back, trying to comfort her. Erin’s ability to hone in on one particular mind was becoming sharper than ever.

Jasmine had been one of Nora Kipling’s absolute favorite students, and it had torn her up to see Jasmine wrestling with alcoholism for so many years after graduation. Jasmine had blamed Regina Gorman for destroying her chances of a scholarship, and apparently, Ms. Kipling did as well. She couldn’t begin to fathom the cruelty and indifference Regina had displayed in denying this deserving student. How many times had she wanted to strangle that woman?

Erin had never seen Ms. Kipling get angry, but the long-lasting wound Regina had inflicted on Jasmine was enough to make Nora Kipling see red.

Several yards away, Austin Tanner was in an upbeat mood. The future seemed so much brighter for his daughter now that Regina Gorman would never be in it. “I think we should spring for a swim coach. Just to give her the best chance. It’s never too early to start teaching them about focus and discipline and hard work. When I look back on my hours of practice . . .”

“Does it feel . . . wasted? Never getting to play college ball? Never making it to the pros?” one of his old buddies inquired.

His wife thought this was a really insensitive question. Why remind him of painful regrets and opportunities lost? But he patted her arm—he was just fine.

“I’ve seen the studies that come out about the concussions. And I think that could easily have been me. If I had gotten everything that I dreamed of, I might be a broken wreck of a man right now. It’s easy to pretend that everything would have been fine.

“But the numbers don’t bear that out. I guess that makes it a whole lot easier to make peace with what happened. I’m healthy, I have a terrific family, and I have a great business. No brain damage, no lifelong injuries, no addiction to pain meds. So, I don’t have a complaint in the world. Not a single one.”

“So, I guess you could say that Regina Gorman actually did you a favor by messing up your football scholarship.”

“Yeah, a favor. Hah! That is one favor she just got repaid for big time.”

Even this very contented man had little charity in his heart for the dead instructor, Erin noted. If immortality was what Regina Gorman wanted, then she had indeed become the Julius Caesar of Oyster Cove.

*****

It was the last day of the longest and best week of Erin Sweeney’s life.

Notwithstanding, there was still the matter of a number of unresolved mysteries and impending crises. The issue of the clear and unmistakably suicidal thoughts was still nagging at Erin. She had eliminated Jenna as a possibility. She had eliminated Megan. And even when she was feeling at her worst about her marriage, Kira Davenport was planning plane trips to LA and auditions. She had never considered suicide. Those were the only people Erin was with that day.

The tea room had been completely empty except for their party. But . . . but that lovely tea hadn’t served itself. There had been a very efficient, very unobtrusive, very non-talkative waitress there. Erin strained to remember her face. In her late twenties, with her dark hair in a single braid trailing down her back. What was that name on her name tag? Sherry. Erin raced over to The Grand Hotel as fast as she possibly could.

Sherry was in the dining room, putting out the table settings for lunch. She recognized the breathless attractive woman headed in her direction.

“There’s one of those reunion people. I hope she and her friends had a good time at tea the other day. Somehow, it makes me feel good to know that other people are happy and enjoying their lives, even though mine isn’t worth living. It’s so hard to get out of bed every morning. I just keep prolonging the pain, the inevitable. But I promised myself that I would stay and help my boss out until this big reunion thing is over. I’d really hate to leave her shorthanded on such an important week. And then when all these people are gone . . . I can be gone too.”