She made the sign of crossing her heart and then grinned at me even more broadly. “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”
She was so excited, she vibrated right out of the visible spectrum. I stared at the place she’d disappeared, wondering what the hell I’d just agreed to.
Not coming up with an answer, I sighed and surveyed my handiwork on the table. Dozens of glass bottles winked back at me, refracting the light of the noonday sun like prisms all over the antique kitchen. Dusty green bottles, stoppered with corks. Crystal lachrymatory bottles, crystal vases with teardrop stoppers, a jug that Great Grandpa had used to bootleg whiskey in the 1920s. There was history in each glass, and now each of them contained a little bit of my history too. GG’s wisdom and just a wisp of my magic.
Darla’s voice drifted down the stairs, singsong and off-key. “Oh, by the way… I picked out an outfit for your date,” she enthused.
“It’s not a date!” I called back. No, it was just a meeting between Marty and me to talk business—marketing my store business. I still needed a logo, business cards, flyers…
I focused on the task at hand again. Cardamom, wisteria, bergamot, and patchouli swirled in aromatic waves up to the ceiling, encircling an ancient looking chandelier. Some of the bulbs weren’t working and would need to be replaced. I still wasn’t sure if the stove worked, and there was definitely something desiccated and stinking behind the Westinghouse Refrigerator. But for just a moment, none of that mattered.
For the first time, starting fresh in a new town didn’t sound like such a crazy gamble, after all.
“We’re gonna make sure you’re a choice bit of calico and get a handcuff around that finger!” Darla sang out.
Sigh. Maybe I’d spoken too soon.
I was fairly certain Darla had to have necromantic powers, because she’d managed to raise the Ghost of Wardrobe Past. When I went upstairs to see the outfit she’d flung onto the bed, I found a wrinkled black mini skirt, my best heels, and a sleeveless violet blouse. And here I’d thought I hadn’t owned a mini skirt since high school.
Hmm, guess I was wrong.
Regardless, I’d tried to pick out my own outfit—something a bit less… revealing, but Darla wouldn’t hear of it and protested in that high-pitched, winy voice of hers for twenty minutes straight, until I gave in. She was lucky the vacuum was downstairs.
“Positive thoughts,” I reminded myself as I eased the Jeep around the bend from Orchard Street onto Main Street that would lead into town. I took a deep breath and thought about the fact that this was the first date I’d been on in a long time. Of course, it wasn’t really a date. It was more a get-together with Marty to talk marketing—after he finished putting the shelves together in the store.
Yeah, so this wasn’t a date at all.
Then why had I referred to it as such?
Hmm.
Chapter Nine
I pulled into the alley behind my shop and then parked between the faded yellow lines just outside the rear entrance, killing the engine as I opened the door. Marty’s hearse and a box truck were parked in the spaces that flanked mine.
I stepped down from the Jeep and closed the driver’s side door behind me. The back door to my shop had been propped open with a large cardboard box, allowing the crisp autumn air to cool the inside of the shop.
At the buzzing of my phone from inside my purse, I paused at the entrance to the store and pulled my phone out. A text from Finn appeared on the screen: Hey, Mom, can I walk to Sweeter Haunts with some new friends?
I smiled.
Sure. But don’t forget we have dinner plans with McFly, I texted back.
I won’t, he responded. I’ll meet you at the shop in a couple hours.
Okay, I texted back. Love you.
Love you too, Mom.
I was glad Finn was making friends. I wanted him to feel like he fit in. I wanted him to be happy here.
Taking a deep breath, I put the phone back in my purse (next to his Gameboy) and faced the rear of the shop again. I could only hope everything was going according to plan and there wouldn’t be any surprises.
When I approached the door, a strange and horrendous noise filtered out to meet me. It was like a cross between a skipping record and the much hated-dial tone.
“Ack! Just shut that thing off, Henner! That’s even worse than before!” I recognized Marty’s voice as he interrupted the horrible sound. His voice came from the front of the shop—just beyond the storage room and the restroom.
“I swear I’m going to get this right one of these days,” another male voice answered.
“Or maybe the spooks will start singing show tunes next,” Marty countered with a laugh. “Channeling Julie Andrews from beyond the grave. That’d be a spectacle we could charge for.”
“Hello?” I called out as I walked through the storage room and rapped my knuckles sharply on the hand-carved mahogany door that led into the main shop. There were boxes everywhere and the contents were strewn around the floor like entrails. So much so, I couldn’t walk forward.
“Poppy?” Marty asked, raising his voice to be heard above the screeching noise. It thankfully cut off a second later.
“Yeah, it’s me. Is everything okay?”
There was the sound of rustling in the interior and, seconds later, Marty poked his head out from behind the wall and gave me a big smile. He appeared red-faced, hair slicked back with sweat, but nonetheless, grinning from ear to ear. He pushed the boxes aside and waved me forward. But, before I took a step, I motioned to the Jeep.
“I’ve got some boxes I still have to grab,” I said as I gave him a big smile. “How’s it going?”
“Good!” he practically sang in response. “Let me help you with those boxes,” he said as he followed me to the rear of the Jeep and lifted up two boxes while I took the third. I closed the back door and then we walked back into the shop.
“We can just put them here for now,” I said as I motioned to the corner of the stock room.
“Good idea. There’s still a ton of boxes in the show room,” Marty said as he turned to face me. “I think you’ll love what we’ve done with the place. In fact,” he started and then approached me, stepping behind me as he blindfolded me with his hand. “This would make a good surprise.”
I took a cautious step forward, with my hands out in front of me like I thought I was Frankenstein learning to walk.
“Surprise!” Marty said as he dropped his hand and I glanced around. And I couldn’t believe my eyes! My hands flew to my mouth to stifle a sound. A gasp, a laugh, a sob, I wasn’t sure which.
Marty hadn’t constructed shelves. He’d bought them—dark wooden bookshelves and cabinets.
And lots of them.
Three mahogany bookshelves and two apothecary cabinets dominated the shop wall, facing the frosted glass windows. The bottommost shelves had been left empty for merchandise, but several of the top shelves had been stuffed full of fat glass jars you’d find in a candy store. They sat empty, but were full of promise.
Along another wall, was a glass display case with glittering crystal handles. It was also empty, and the mirrored back wall reflected the executive desk just in front of it. The desk was constructed of dark wood with a chocolate leather top and a black wood, swivel chair appeared behind it. On the desk’s surface was an antique cash register, a ledger, and a ceramic mug full of calligraphy pens.