Page 23 of Witches of Dubious Origin
“A pleasure to meet you,” she said. “Are you the director of the museum?”
Sebastian laughed. “No, I’m entirely too fainthearted for that sort of work. Our director is Claire Carpenter. She’s waiting for you in her office.” He gestured to the closed doors behind his desk. “Please, follow me.”
After a gentle knock, he opened the doors and we followed Sebastian into Claire’s office. She was seated behind her desk in front of the windows. I had a flash of déjà vu as I stepped into the spectacular office, but I shook it off. This was not a repeat of yesterday, as I had Eloise with me.
Claire stood and beamed at the sight of me. It wasimpossible not to return her smile given the genuine warmth that lit her eyes.
“Zoe, it’s good to see you again.” She gestured to the love seat. “Won’t you and your companion have a seat?”
I noticed that a couple of chairs had been added to the sitting area, confirming that she’d been expecting us. I led the way to the love seat and Eloise followed.
“May I bring you a refreshment?” Sebastian asked.
“No, thank you,” Eloise answered. She sank onto the love seat and demurely crossed her legs at the ankles.
Sebastian glanced at me and I shook my head and said, “No, thanks.”
“I’m just outside if you change your mind.” With a nod to Claire, he left, keeping the door open between their offices.
Claire sat on the armchair beside mine and looked at me expectantly. My manners kicked in and I said, “Right, sorry. Claire Carpenter, this is Eloise Tate.”
Claire leaned forward and clasped Eloise’s hand warmly in hers. Claire turned back to me and said, “Dare I hope that your return indicates that you’ve changed your mind about the position?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” I said. “But I do need some expert advice from the staff of the BODO.”
“Oh, all right.” Claire looked disappointed but turned to face the open door.
“I’ve sent for them,” Sebastian said before she could say a word.
“And that’s why I can’t do without him,” Claire said. She glanced back at Eloise and me.
There was a tension in the room, probably because of me,and I didn’t know how to explain that the woman beside me believed she was dead and insisted that my grandmother had brought her back from the other side. Even though I’d been aware of magic all my life, most of it had been Agatha’s gentle, comforting kitchen magic or the happy moments when my mom had made me laugh by making flowers dance or changing our dog’s fur to colorful polka dots. Even Mamie’s magic had been manageable to my child brain: catching rainbows with my hands and fashioning them into hair ribbons. Witchcraft had been fun and warm and lovely and then it had changed.
Unchecked magic had physically and emotionally injured my mother and tangentially killed my father, and the light and joy of it had been extinguished in me like a candle in the wind, leaving only pain and fear in the darkness that followed.
And now I was confronted with this? The witchcraft that Eloise was speaking of—necromancy—was terrifying. Bringing dead people back was next level and I was struggling to understand Mamie doing something like that. Instead, I asked the lesser question that was bothering me.
“Both Tina the security guard and Sebastian seemed to think you were expecting me, but how did you know I was coming today?” I asked.
Claire smiled and reached over to pat my knee. “I was being very optimistic and hoping to manifest your return. And here you are.”
Somehow, this did not make me feel any better and I felt like there was something she wasn’t telling me, but I let it go for the moment.
“Is there anything I can help with while we wait for the others?” Claire asked.
“I’d rather explain it just once,” I said.
“Understandable.” Claire nodded.
“You have a lovely museum,” Eloise said. “You know, I lived in New York City for a few years back in the sixties and seventies.”
“As a child?” Claire asked.
“Oh, no, I was in my twenties,” Eloise said. “I lived on Christopher Street in the Village. It was all jazz clubs, shopping for leather bags at Hildegarde’s, oh, and getting blessed by Rollerena.”
Claire and I stared blankly at her.
Eloise smiled at us. “Rollerena was a man who roller-skated all over the Village in the early seventies, particularly in Washington Square Park. He was a hoot in his white wedding gown and carrying a wand.” She glanced at me. “Your grandmother Toni and I got a real kick out of him. Of course, Toni was busy raising your mother, Juliet, so she didn’t get to enjoy the city like I did. Pity.”
