"I'd better not." Abby patted her hip, which was silly because she hadn't gained any weight. It wasn't like the old days in Martindale when she owned Burt's Desserts and nibbled sugary items all day long.

  "How was my crust?" asked Lulu.

  "Um, great."

  With a grin, the old lady tugged a strand of Abby's red mane. "Liar, liar. Hair's on fire."

  "It wasn't that bad, Lulu. I mean it."

  "No prevarication, Abby. Speak the truth and nothing but the truth. My pie crust is not flaky enough. Heck, girl, my crust is shoe leather. I know it. The world knows it. I've never done it well, but now that I have a neighbor"—she wriggled her eyebrows—"who does know how to do it and do it well, I think it's time for me to learn the fine art of making pie crusts."

  Abby had been a baker when she lived in Nebraska. Her father owned Burt's Desserts, and when his health became an issue, she'd volunteered to help him out. He'd taught her his secrets—one of which was making superbly flaky pie crust.

  Abby's phone sang out Jill's ringtone. "I'm surprised you're up before noon. I'm bringing you a slice of pie and—What? Wait, say that again."

  Jill's cute friend in the high school's equestrian club, Devon Esteban, had called her. Devon's mother, Annette, worked at the Moon Water Health Clinic.

  "Devon had to drop off his mother since her car wouldn't start, and he saw two of the sheriff's deputies escorting a woman with a bandaged arm into the clinic. The woman was begging for someone to call you and Lulu, Momma."

  "Me and Lulu? Did Devon describe her?"

  "She's thin he said. Thin with light brown hair."

  The Volvo cruised into the parking lot of the one-story building that housed the Moon Water Health Clinic.

  Rushing inside, Abby and Lulu spotted Annette Esteban at the nurse's station. "I'm guessing Devon called Jill, and she called you."

  Abby nodded. "I know you can't exactly tell us her name, Annette, but if I mention it, could you, um, scratch your nose?"

  Annette glanced away, but when Abby said, "Brenda," the nurse lifted her index finger and scratched the tip of her nose.

  Lulu whispered, "What happened to her, Annette? We heard her arm was bandaged."

  Annette glanced both ways down the hall in case there was anyone watching them. "I heard the deputies talking. Apparently when the sheriff was questioning her"—Annette scratched the tip of her nose again—"she ran out of the library in a hysterical fit and ran right into a statue. The tip of it gouged her arm. It's not all that bad, but I did have to give her a tetanus shot."

  Annette checked the corridor again. No one was around. "I talked to her, and she wasn't crying from pain. She's upset because the sheriff won't let her stay at the manor until he finishes his investigation."

  Lulu sighed. "Poor Brenda. She told me she gave up her apartment in Fennerton to be Ravenna's live-in companion. She has no place to go, no relatives in Oregon. I need to see her. Can't you let me in to see her, Annette?"

  The nurse slit her eyes toward the end of the hallway. "Not now. The sheriff's in there."

  Just then, a stern-looking nurse with gold-rimmed glasses came out of another room and approached the desk holding out a clipboard. "You didn't initial this."

  Annette huffed. "Yes, I did, Nelda."

  "Where?"

  Annette tapped the bottom portion of the paperwork on the clipboard. Nelda hissed, "That's impossible to see. Next time, write it bigger."

  Annette glared as Nelda walked away then said to Lulu, "How well do you know Brenda?"

  "Barely. From what I could tell, she took orders well and that's what Ravenna demanded from her caregivers. I think she was the third one this year."

  "Fourth," Annette whispered. "The others lasted a few weeks. Except Brenda. She started in May. "

  Abby said, "Why did Ravenna need a live-in?"

  Lulu blew out a breath. "She always had problems but after her brother died she cracked up. Her drinking got worse and she'd fall down the stairs or wander out into the woods. Frankly, in my opinion, she wanted a companion so she would have someone to boss around, and, I guess, as a way to push away the loneliness."

  With a glance down the hallway, Annette leaned forward and put in her two cents. "Lulu's right, and Brenda is a passive personality. I think her being at Ramstead Manor with someone like Ravenna was not the best thing in the world for a little church mouse like her."

  Annette answered a call then directed Lulu and Abby to take seats in the waiting area. Moments later, Sheriff Moser strolled out of a room. The duo popped out of their chairs and chased him down.

  "I thought I might see you two here tonight," he said, matter-of-factly.

  Lulu snapped. "That girl needs us."

  "Does she, Tallulah?" The sheriff was the only person in Moon Water who called Lulu by her given name.

  Abby knew she should keep her mouth shut, but the curious "Miss Marple" inside of her popped up and said, "I heard you're not letting Brenda return to the manor until your investigation is over. Does that mean it's a crime scene?"

  Moser's eyes flickered, unable to completely hide the attraction between them. "No. It doesn't mean it's a crime scene. It's merely standard procedure and—"

  Lulu cut him off. "Ravenna was a mean old boozer, Sheriff. She locked Brenda in the bathroom so she could drink all night without a disturbance. Then she wandered outside and staggered around out there and ran right into the birdhouse, and it came down on her. End of story. Ravenna died because of an accident."

  "You might be right, Tallulah."

  Lulu's eyes glinted with victory. "I am, Moser, and I'll tell you something else. Brenda needs peace and quiet and a lot of time to pull her life together, instead of you hounding her."

  "My job is to investigate and I'm—"

  Lulu snorted, waved a dismissive hand at him and then charged down the hallway to the patient rooms.

  Abby said, "For a woman with a bad back, Lulu is a lot more hare than tortoise."

  Moser laughed. Abby responded with a grin, tickled to hear his deep and strangely powerful laugh.

  "Good observation, Abby."

  She dipped her head. No matter what she did, she always ended up flirting with him.

  Back off, warned her cautious side. Without another word to the sheriff, she hurried to catch up with Lulu who was entering a patient room. "Yoo-hoo, Brenda?"

  Abby abruptly halted as a flickering of images whisked around in her brain.

  In one, she saw Brenda unzipping a brown wheelie suitcase with a plastic daisy secured to the handle.

  In another, she saw Brenda at a drop-leaf table eating pie. Abby recognized Lulu's kitchen and knew what was coming next.

  Since starting her lessons in potions and spells with Bubsy, she had noticed a definite uptick in her predictive intuition. Now, she not only had a certain feeling about something, but often glimpsed images. "It's like I'm having a mind movie," she'd told Bubsy.

  "I prefer the term cognitive cinema," he replied, unable to resist being pompous.

  Brenda's voice brought Abby out of her thoughts "Lulu, thank you so much. I'd love staying with you."

  "Mi casa es su casa," Lulu said happily.

  Brenda gushed. "I've driven by your house several times and it always looks so cheerful."

  Lulu's foursquare did not look cheerful to her neighbors. She'd painted the bricks purple and the trim a light yellow. It was markedly different than the rest of the more sedate homes in Honeyberry Woods. That, of course, was the point.

  Later that day, Brenda phoned to say she was being released from the clinic. Abby picked her up and Lulu got her settled into an upstairs bedroom.

  Since Brenda couldn't yet return to Ramstead Manor to retrieve her clothes and personal items, Abby brought over a few of her daughter's things.

  At five-nine and a half, her own clothes wouldn't fit bony Brenda who was just a few inches taller than Lulu.

  "Got you three tee shirts, a couple sweaters and these two skirts." She handed the tote bag to Brenda. "And I brought you one of my tunics to sleep in."

  As Lulu was even tinier than Brenda, her contributions were a new toothbrush, deodorant and several pairs of thick wool socks.

  While Brenda showered, Lulu poured Abby a glass of wine. "I'm glad I asked her. She looked absolutely lost, and whatever savings she has shouldn't be spent on a motel room. I told her to stay as long as she wants. Her relatives sound strict and, besides, they live back east, so it's fine for her to stay here until she figures out what to do next with her life."

  "It's very kind of you," said Abby before taking a sip.

  Lulu batted her eyes. "I need the good karma. You know, I can be a bit grumpy at times."

  Abby bit back a grin. "You? No. Never."

  Chapter Five

  Two days later, Lulu hung onto the receiver of her landline gabbing with a friend while Abby put together a plate of cheese and crackers to go with a salad for lunch.

  "It's true, Patty Rae. She's staying with me. Once the sheriff closes his investigation, he'll allow her to return to the manor to get her things. I'm sure he'll wind it up soon. It was an accident, we all know that. I've told Brenda there's no hurry for her to go anywhere. I think the girl should take a break from being a caregiver for a while."

  Lulu continued chatting with her friend, one of Moon Water's most persistent gossips, and when she hung up she gave Abby a naughty grin. "Patty Rae tells me you and the sheriff had a tantalizing Thanksgiving."

  Abby flushed then blew out a breath as she tried to tamp down the heat rising in her cheeks because, yes, it had been a tantalizing evening with the sheriff.

  After Ravenna, Hank and Edwina left, everyone in the diner had allowed their spirits to brighten again. Even Sheriff Moser had put his usual reticent manner on hold and initiated a conversation with Abby.

  Sure, some of the exchange seemed impersonal, like his comments about needing more than one traffic light because of the increasing amount of tourists, but his formality lessened when he asked her how she was adjusting to small-town life.

  That was when their conversation turned more personal and edged into a kind of intimacy. She had told him about inheriting Burt's Desserts and about the fire that destroyed the shop.

  And then the unexpected phone call from Selene Adamas, announcing Abby had won the grand prize in an online contest.

  The sheriff had nodded, implying he knew he had heard the story of her winning the honey-colored stone cottage at 777 Curiosity Lane.

  "I was absolutely astonished. I mean, who wins a house?"

  "No one wins a house, except you Abby Little."

  Actually, she had not won the house. Shortly after moving to Moon Water, Abby learned the contest had been a trick to bring her to Moon Water, a ploy created by Selene who was her cousin on her mother's side of the family. A cousin Abby never knew she had.

  Selene had confessed her intention was to bring Abby to Moon Water and then revealed, somewhat reluctantly, the secret of their family. The secret that shocked Abby, although she had been having flickers from the enchanted world for several months prior to moving to Moon Water.

  Still, when Selene told her the truth concerning their heritage it had taken Abby a while to fully accept that she was an enchanter, or rather a witch in the parlance of humans.

  Selene had explained that most enchanted beings lived right alongside oblivious humans. "But not all humans are clueless," she had admitted.

  Some had ventured into the secrets of magick and encountered the enchanted beings living amongst them. And some of those humans had dabbled in the dark side of magick with decidedly mixed results.

  "Abby."

  Lulu nudged her arm, bringing her back to the present. "You have a distant faraway look in those green eyes, Buttercup. That's a dead giveaway you're thinking about him. I can't say I'm the sheriff's biggest fan, but I do know he's a fairly decent man. I can see you two together, if you'd let the birds and bees do what the birds and bees do."

  "Gimme a break, Lulu. I'm thirty-five, divorced and a single mother. Romantic notions are for the younger ones."

  Lulu harrumphed. "Pish-posh on that."

  She placed a bowl of her famous chicken salad on the table. "Did he ask you out yet?"

  Abby looked away. He'd been close to it at Thanksgiving, but if he had asked, she might have declined even though her impetuous side was all for it.

  Her cautious side was, of course, adamantly against it. Witch and human lawman? No. Absolutely not. That's like dry wood and gasoline. Fiery and hot, and then it erupts and there's nothing left but ashes. Ashes and heartache.

  "Well, did he?" Lulu pressed.

  Abby changed the subject. "Did you say Brenda doesn't have any relatives in Oregon?"

  "That's right. Not a one. There's some cousins back east."

  Footfalls on the stairs alerted them, and Lulu raised her voice slightly. "Oh, let's have some napkins, Abby. Will you get them? They're in the second drawer to your right."

  Both tried to look busy when Brenda entered the kitchen. She had on one of Jill's shirts and a paisley skirt which somehow made her look even frailer than before.

  "Hope you're hungry," said Lulu, pulling out a chair. "Would you like wine?'

  Brenda's pallid face pinched in and she hastily declined. "No, no. Thank you. After all of this, I don't ever want to touch liquor again."

  Her cellphone tinkled a piano solo. With trembling hands, she reached into the pocket of the paisley skirt as she retreated from the kitchen to take the call.

  When she returned, a relieved smile graced her face. "That was the sheriff's office. It's been ruled an accidental death, so I'll be able to get my things from the manor."

  Another smile, brighter this time. "I'm guessing, Lulu, you're going to be ferociously busy this week with the Winter Festival coming up, but if it is possible, could you go with me to the manor?"

  Chapter Six

  Abby's maroon Volvo traveled north up Mount Dapple Road. The winding road had been cut through the coniferous forest wilderness in the 1800s. Back then, it was packed dirt and gravel during good weather. During bad weather, it was impassable.

  Now, two hundred years later, it was a narrow two-lane asphalt road that needed to be repaved every five or so years.

  Lulu spun around to talk to Brenda in the back seat. "Did you know this state didn't have any paved roads until after the legislature established the highway department in 1913?"

  A weak smile crossed Brenda's face. "No, ma'am."

  Lulu rattled on. "The slogan back then was, "Get Oregon out of the mud.'"

  She giggle and squirmed back to face the road. "Over there, Abby. There's the sign on the left."

  "I remember from before," Abby said to remind her. It had only been a few days since their fateful bird-watching adventure.

  Still a good distance away, the manor's red brick and stone spires peeked through the evergreen forest.

  "Look at the tips," Lulu tittered. "Don't they look like shark fins poking up out of the ocean."

  Abby mumbled. "Yeah. If shark fins were red."

  Lulu swatted her arm. "Literalist."

  Then she wagged a finger at the impending cutoff with the orange railroad ties nailed into the four-foot "R" sign.

  Minutes later, the car rolled up to the entrance of Ramstead Manor. Abby remembered running to the stone steps where Edwina had fainted and the massive oak door as she went inside to find out who had screamed. She had not noticed the upper balcony that capped the manor's third story or the shuttered windows on the right side of the second story.

  Brenda reluctantly climbed out of the backseat, her fingers working the buttons of Jill's white cardigan. She went around to the hood of the car and waited until Lulu and Abby joined her before walking up the stone steps.

  With jittery fingers, she unlocked the front door and glanced back at Lulu and Abby. "I still have my key," she explained.

  Lulu pulled on the hem of the sweater. "Hang back, honey. I'll go in first."

  The living room smelled rank from the empty bottles of liquor, wine and champagne.

  On the table where Brenda had left the almond cheesecake from Ravenna's birthday party stood a gray rat with furry black legs. It was nibbling on the crumbs.

  Abby squealed; the rat darted to a sepia-colored recliner. "What happened?" said Lulu.

  "You didn't see that rat?"

  Brenda flinched. "A rat?" She looked like she might faint. "Where is it?"

  "It ran to the recliner."

  "Oh, no. That was Ravenna's favorite place in the whole house. She wouldn't let anybody else sit there. It was hers, and now there's a," she whimpered, "a rat there." She blinked hard, fighting back tears.

  "It's okay." Lulu patted her shoulder. "You're feeling grief and you're little wary of being here. That's all natural. You'll be fine."

  After a moment, Lulu shook her head. "See, that's the problem with these funky old houses. Creatures have plenty of spaces to hide in. Brenda, why don't you go on upstairs while Abby helps me tidy up down here and make this place less of a snack bar for rodents."

  Abby whispered under her breath. "I don't like this place either. Let's get her stuff and go."

  Brenda's breathing hiked up a notch. "I-I know it's silly, but would you come to my room with me? I never felt comfortable here, especially now, and I think, I think there might be ... ghosts."

  Lulu reacted with a giggle-snort. "Aw, honey, there's no such thing."

  Abby said nothing. She had never believed in ghosts until she moved to Moon Water and met one. A cute one, with four paws, floppy ears and a long snout. His name was Winston and he was a mini-Dachshund.

  It was because of her seeing Winston she had asked Selene for help and discovered her own witchy heritage.

  Abby looked around, wondering if Ravenna's ghost might be here and try to contact her.

  Lulu assured Brenda, "No worries, honey. We will go upstairs with you."

  The trio—with Abby, at five-nine and a half, positioned in the middle—trekked up the wide mahogany staircase together. Lulu couldn't resist commenting on the structure of the risers and balustrades. "It's a shame Ravenna let it go. A good scrubbing and lots of polish, and I think these stairs would gleam again. She gave up on the manor after Ivan passed away and—"

 

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