Authors: Mariah Stewart
“It’s a matter of finding a sufficient supply of good fruit, which I haven’t been able to do yet. But I haven’t given up.” Steffie patted Vanessa on the back. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“I know you are, and I know that whatever you make will be delightful. I’ve never tasted any of your ice cream that hasn’t been fabulous. And trust me,” Vanessa told Lucy, “I have tasted everything Stef makes and it’s all been perfection.”
“You make me blush.” Steffie took a seat on the sofa. “But it’s all so true.”
“So if you can’t find white peaches in sufficient quantity, what are the other choices?” Lucy asked.
“White chocolate mint, or white chocolate mousse.” Stef leaned over and refilled her wineglass. She held up the bottle and asked, “Anyone?”
“I’ll have a splash more,” Lucy heard herself say.
She hadn’t planned on staying for a second glass, but it was delicious and the fire was so nice and warm, why hurry back out into the cold?
Stef refilled Lucy’s glass.
“Of course, there’s the old standby, vanilla bean,” Stef continued, “or vanilla with macadamia nuts. I found a terrific supplier in Hawaii when we were on our honeymoon.”
“I think I’m just going to say ‘surprise me.’ ” Vanessa sat on a hassock in front of a wall of books.
“I am humbled by your trust in me.”
“Then again, maybe we should ask Alice,” Vanessa said thoughtfully.
“Since when does Alice know from ice cream?” Steffie asked.
“Alice?” Lucy asked.
“Alice Ridgeway. She lived here in my house for about, oh, I don’t know. Ninety years, maybe.”
“I know about her. She was a friend of my mother’s,” Lucy told them. She recalled her mother’s recent comment about Alice. “My mother somehow thinks that Alice might still be about.”
Vanessa nodded and moved to the wing chair opposite the one Lucy was sitting in. “Your mother’s been very helpful in interpreting Alice’s journals and notebooks.”
“Interpreting …?”
“You know, Alice’s spells.” Vanessa’s voice dropped an octave. “That woman had a spell for damn near everything you could think of.”
“Why would my mother know about any of that?”
“Well, because …” Vanessa paused. “Because …”
“Because when your mother was younger,” Steffie said carefully, “Alice sort of
guided
her.”
“
‘Guided’
her …?” Lucy asked.
“Your mother is … sensitive,” Vanessa blurted out.
“She’s always been a very sensitive person,” Lucy agreed, “but what does that have to do with Alice Ridgeway’s journals? I’m sorry, but I’m confused.”
“Don’t you remember, growing up, everyone—all the kids, anyway—thought that Alice was a witch?” Stef whispered the last word.
“That was kid stuff.” Lucy waved a hand dismissively.
Steffie and Vanessa both shook their heads from side to side.
“Not kid stuff,” Stef told her.
“Alice was the real deal.” Vanessa nodded.
“Are you two crazy?” Lucy started to laugh, then stopped. “You are crazy, aren’t you.”
“I know it sounds that way, but I live in her old house, and believe me, she’s still here.”
Before Lucy could comment, Vanessa added, “Did you know that she was agoraphobic?”
“And that she and my mother’s cousin Horace Hinson were in love but didn’t marry because she wouldn’t leave the house?” Stef said. “Well, she still hasn’t left.”
“Stop. You’re making my head spin,” Lucy told them.
“Believe it or not, but I’m telling you, Alice is here sometimes,” Vanessa insisted. “Not all the time, just sometimes.”
“How do you know when she’s here?” Lucy could
not believe she’d actually asked that. Still, she looked around the room. “Is she here now?”
“Uh-uh. I know when she’s here ’cause I can feel her.” Vanessa took a few sips of her club soda.
“You mean, like, breathing down your neck? Or does she pinch you …?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I just sense her. She’s not mean at all, she’s really rather sweet and protective. It’s comforting, actually. Grady still has his wilderness guide business and he’s often out west for a week or so at a time, which means I’m often here alone at night. Sometimes I just feel her here, and it’s like, I don’t know, like having your grandmother stop in to see if you’re doing all right.”
“I don’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Lucy muttered.
“I can see you’re skeptical.” Vanessa smiled. “I used to be, too. So did Stef. But you live with something, you start to run out of explanations for things happening. You hear footsteps and tell yourself that it’s the heater, but then you remember that it’s July and the heater hasn’t been on in months. Or the curtains move, and you tell yourself it’s just a breeze, but the windows are all closed. You smell flowers when there aren’t any in the house. After a while, you just come to accept.”
“Does Grady believe she’s here?” Lucy asked.
“Grady won’t go so far as to say he believes, but he’s not saying he
doesn’t
believe,” Vanessa said. “He’s being pretty cagey.”
“I can’t say I believe either. I do think there are things that happen that can’t be logically explained,”
Lucy admitted. “But I am confused about how my mother fits into all this.”
“I think Alice taught Grace stuff, or told her stuff. I’m not really sure of the details, but she seemed pretty happy when I gave her Alice’s Ouija board.” Vanessa sliced a piece of cheese for herself.
“My mother has a Ouija board?” Lucy’s eyes widened at the thought. Mom? Playing at Ouija?
“She has Alice’s.” Stef nodded. “Ness found it upstairs in the attic and gave it to Grace. But not before we used it right here one night—Grace and I—remember, Ness? Remember it kept spelling out ‘Daz’ and we couldn’t figure out what that meant?”
“And then we found the heart written on the wall under the wallpaper in your house …” Vanessa reminisced. “ ‘Horace loves Daisy.’ ”
“And we found something in one of Alice’s journals that made us realize she was Daisy …” Stef continued.
“Sorry but my head is spinning again.” Lucy raised a hand to her temple and laughed.
“I think I told you when you stayed with me in December before the wedding that my house used to belong to my mom’s cousin Horace and that he left it to me when he died.” Stef turned to face Lucy. “When Wade and I were stripping the old wallpaper, we found a big heart drawn on the wall. Inside the heart it said, ‘Horace loves Daisy.’ How romantic is that?”
“It’s terribly romantic,” Lucy acknowledged. “But I’m still not clear on what all this has to do with my mother.”
“Just that Grace was a friend of Alice’s and I think they can communicate, that’s all,” Vanessa said.
“You think my mother can communicate with ghosts,” Lucy said flatly.
“Maybe just with Alice. I don’t know if she’s in contact with anyone else. Stef, did Miz Grace ever mention anyone else?”
Steffie shook her head. “Nope. Just Alice.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Lucy murmured.
Stef leaned over and refilled Lucy’s empty glass, and Lucy took a sip. Everything she’s just heard about her mother was at odds with the mother she knew. Mom—her mom—in league with the town witch? That would be crazy talk even if there
was
a town witch. Which there wasn’t. Alice Ridgeway had been a nice old lady. A bit eccentric, sure, but still, just a nice old lady. Lucy took a sip of wine and glanced from Vanessa to Steffie. Surely the two of them just fed off each other’s fanciful natures. If she looked at this in that context, it was sort of amusing.
“It’s starting to snow.” Brooke Bowers blew in through the front door, a sprinkling of white in her hair and on her coat. She carried a flat white box that she deposited on the coffee table the second she entered the room. “Good thing I made extras. In case we get snowed in here, at least we’ll have cupcakes.” She turned to Lucy. “Hi, Lucy. I hear we have a date tomorrow.”
Lucy nodded. “I can’t wait. I always wondered what the inside of that old house looked like.”
“It’s fabulous,” Brooke assured her as she stripped off her coat, then draped it over the newel post in the front hall. “I had a ball dressing it for the house tour. I’m so glad we’ll get to show it off one more time before we have to start taking the decorations down.”
“If you’re talking about the Enright house, it is fabulous,” Steffie agreed. “Wade and I went through when it was open. Brooke did an amazing job.” Stef turned to Lucy. “If you ever want to move your business back to St. Dennis, you should hire Brooke to help you decorate.”
“I’m sure she’s terrific, but I’m not moving back to St. Dennis. I’m just doing this one more wedding at the inn because it’s too big to turn down.” Why, Lucy wondered, did she suddenly feel defensive?
“Just don’t break my brother’s heart, okay?” Brooke said nonchalantly. “He’s bug-eyed over you, so just let him down easy.”
“Clay and I have been friends for … forever,” Lucy told her. “He’s not bug-eyed, he’s …”
“Bug-eyed. Over the moon. He can’t help himself. He’s always been sweet on you.” Brooke sat on the floor, cross-legged, and poured herself a glass of wine. “I’m only having one glass because I have cupcakes cooling at home that will need to be frosted and I have some packing to do.”
“Do you have a moving date yet?” Vanessa asked.
“Maybe the end of next week. Cam thinks the electricians will have finished by then. I can’t wait.” She snagged a cracker and topped it with a bit of cheese. “I love my family, but I need my own place. Mom is happily living in her new town house, and while I love and adore my brother, we both need to have our own space. Logan is excited about the move because I promised him he could have a dog once we were in the house.” She looked at Steffie. “Your brother said he has a great group of rescue dogs from down south someplace that we can pick from.”
Stef nodded. “He does. We’re getting one, too. Wade thinks Austin needs a companion.”
“I told Clay he should get one. There hasn’t been a dog at the farm since Harry the hound died ten or twelve years ago. Clay always loved his dogs.”
“I remember a dog you used to have. He was really huge and all black,” Lucy suddenly recalled. “He used to chase the geese around the pond.”
“Midnight.” Brooke nodded. “He was a great dog. Clay and I both cried for months over that dog when he died.”
Lucy remembered. She’d cried, too. They hadn’t had a dog at the inn—too many people had allergies, her dad had told them—and she’d secretly thought of Midnight as hers. All of a sudden she found herself wanting a dog, too.
Must be the wine
, she told herself. She put her glass on the table, out of her reach.
“Okay, now that we have the famous Hollywood event planner here, maybe we can get her to dish just a little.” Brooke grinned mischievously. “What was it like to do that fortieth birthday party for Julia Lucas? I read she’s an absolute diva …”
For the next half hour, Lucy related some of her more memorable moments as an event planner. By the time she’d finished, everyone’s sides hurt from laughing, and somehow, Lucy’s wineglass had been filled and emptied again.
“So, Lucy, can you think of anything else we could do to make our wedding special?” Vanessa asked.
“Your wedding is going to be special because it’s yours. Everything else is just trappings. You have a good caterer, you’ll have fabulous ice cream and cupcakes
and gorgeous flowers. I’d say you’re set.” Lucy opened her bag, took out a card, and handed it to Vanessa. “Don’t be shy about calling if you have any last minute questions about anything.”
“I couldn’t. You’ve been all too generous with your time as it is.” Vanessa slipped the card into her pocket.
“I was happy to stop over. It was fun.” Lucy stood.
“Are you all right to drive?” Brooke reached out a hand to steady Lucy, who wobbled just a tad when she stood.
“I’m okay.” Lucy stared at the empty glass in her hand before she placed it on the table. Had she really had three glasses of wine tonight?
“How ’bout I drive you home?” Brooke raised herself from the floor. “I can just swing by the inn, drop you off, and tomorrow on your way back from Enright’s, Clay can drop you off here for your car.”
“I hate to admit it, but that might be for the best.” Lucy turned to Vanessa. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I think the wine’s crept up on me.”
“It can happen to anyone.” Vanessa put an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “Actually, it has happened to all of us, at one time or another. You get together with the girls, you open a few bottles of wine, and the next thing you know, a couple of hours have gone by.”
Lucy glanced at her watch. “It has been a couple of hours. I can’t believe I’ve been here all this time …”
“It flies when you’re having fun.” Steffie handed Lucy her coat.
“I did have fun.” Lucy slipped into the coat.
“So did we. Come back next time you’re in town and we’ll do it again.”
“Thanks. I will.” Lucy followed Brooke to the door. “Good luck with the wedding. Take lots of pictures so I can see how gorgeous you look.”
“I guess there’s no chance you’ll be around that weekend.” Vanessa’s hand was on the doorknob.
“Sorry, no. I have a sweet sixteen party that same Saturday.”
“Well, then, next time …” Vanessa opened the door.
“Next time.” Lucy nodded.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Brooke told Vanessa as she followed Lucy outside and closed the door behind her.
They hurried through the chilly air to Brooke’s ride, a big pink van with a huge cupcake painted on its side.
“Wow, way to advertise,” Lucy said.
“Clay had been using this old van to haul around produce. It had a lot of body rust and the paint was worn in places, but I needed a van to distribute my cupcakes. So I asked him if I could paint it, and he said sure.” Brooke laughed.
“So he was okay with the pink paint job and the big cupcake?”
“Let’s just say that now he uses his Jeep more and the van less to make deliveries.” Brooke unlocked the passenger door.
Lucy climbed into her seat and slammed the door just as Brooke got in and slid behind the wheel. “Thank God Clay has such a good sense of humor.”
“He does, that,” Lucy agreed. She leaned back in the seat and stared out the window.