Page 1 of Welcome to Gothic
Chapter One
The remote village of Gothic, California
On scenic Big Sur
Early spring, this year
“The currents are strong today.”
“No, dear, they were stronger yesterday.”
Wendy Giordano stopped in the entry of Vintage Gothic Encore Clothing Shop—motto: Not Responsible for Haunted or Possessed Items—and soon-to-be-opened bookshop, located in the former Gothic Palace theater, to listen to the owners, two sisters, squabble. She smiled.
“No, they weren’t,” Minnie insisted. “Today is the day something will happen. Or tomorrow. But not yesterday.”
“Obvious!” Mabel snapped.
“It’stime, Mabel. Nothing’s obvious.”
In Gothic, California, an iron plaque outside the Live Oak Restaurant proclaimed the local legend:
On stormy nights, Gothic is said to disappear. On its return, it brings lost souls back from the dead.
The isolated village encouraged the woo-woo aspect of their Big Sur locale; woo-woo was good for business, good for the annual Gothic Spring Psychic Festival’s publicity and the annual Gothic Garden and Flower Show. With the Pacific Coast Highway regularly washed out by a series of ocean storms and the only road in the winding and environmentally fragile Nacimiento-Fergusson Road, they needed all the help they could get.
For Wendy’s money, if anyone could be psychic phenomenon specialists, it was the O’Hall siblings. They looked like twins: white-haired, round soft-apple faces, kind blue eyes that could turn sharp in an instant. Ageless, although Mabel frequently made it a point to remind Minnie she was the younger by eleven months.
Right now, Mabel huffed away from Minnie toward the front door of the shop and greeted Wendy as she stepped inside. “Hello, dear, that fog is dense this morning, isn’t it?”
“Damp, gray and moving as if it was alive,” Wendy agreed.Currents, she thought, and shivered.
Mabel shut the door firmly behind them.
“What are you here for today?” Minnie asked. “You brought your biggest shopping bag, so I know this isn’t a mere visit.”
“Although we love that, too.” Mabel beamed. “You know you’re one of our favorite people.”
“I love you both, too.” Wendy hugged them warmly. “I heard you talking about the Gothic time currents like you know something about them. Were you two born here?”
“No, dear, no one is ever born here. We’re all called,” Minnie assured her.
Whatever that meant.
“We have been here for a long time.” Mabel poured a mug of hot coffee, stirred in a generous dollop of cream and sugar, brought it to Wendy and offered it with one of her rare and wonderful smiles.
Wendy took it and sipped, closed her eyes and appreciated the toasty smell and rich taste of the real thing. She ran Bendy Wendy’s Yoga, Self-Defense and Workout Studio, Gothic’s only such studio, and in theory she didn’t approve of caffeine, cream and sugar. “I only indulge when I’m here.”
“No guilt!” Mabel’s admonishing finger rose. “You can work out an extra ten minutes today.”
Wendy regretfully put the mug down. “I don’t have an extra ten minutes today.” Between the locals and the periodic influx of tourists, she was always on the go and she made a good living. Important for someone with her background.
“It doesn’t matter. You look very fit.”
Wendy suspected the women didn’t approve of her formfitting spandex jumpsuit that displayed every curve of every muscle, but she considered herself a walking advertisement and... well... she looked good and she knew it.
“I’m throwing a party for my young karate masters, ages seven to twelve, and we’re going to play dress up a parent.”
Both women stopped bustling and shot her inquiring glances.
