Page 5 of Jane's Story
“Ugh. I can’t even…” I imagined Lydia sighing in disgust at her social drama.
Before I knocked, Aunt Penny swung open her door wearing green flannel pajamas and a fluffy pink robe. “Oh, Jane! Of all the welcome sights, you must be so tired. Let me make you some tea. You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.”
She ushered me inside, helped me out of my coat and boots, and led me to the kitchen, where I smelled her buttery honey brioche baking. Her brown and cream rag-doll cat, Moonbeam, joined us, rubbing her face against my ankles and purring. I stooped to scratch her ears. “Hi, sweet girl.”
“She remembers you,” Aunt Penny said, and I wanted to bask in their tranquility—both AuntPenny's and the cat's. “She’s terrified of strangers, but you’ve always made her feel safe.”
“We’re buddies, aren’t we, Moonbeam?” I gave her one more scratch, then stood and hugged my aunt. “I’ve missed you. Your bread smells like the kind my mom makes.”
“Well…” Smile lines formed around Aunt Penny’s eyes, and she tapped her right temple. The afternoon sunlight trickling in from the kitchen window illuminated her copper hair. “You know, I helped at the family bakery as well.”
Warm yellow and crisp blue china decorated the cheerful room, and bundles of drying herbs hung in the window.
“Any adventures in that realm lately? Do you still mix potions?" I inquired. She was a retired professor, and magic had helped her with research.
Aunt Penny didn’t have the same zealous tendencies toward potionry as my mom. But everyone in the family used magic occasionally. My great-grandmother foundedCupid’s Confectionsover seventy years ago, and all the children learned to cook from her. I smiled, trying to imagineAunt Penny and my mom playing in the kitchen while their grandmother baked.
“Oh,” Aunt Penny chuckled. “Certainly not like your mother. I do a little for healing concoctions and some for research. And when necessary, I’m not timid about using a reliable truth serum.”
We all had different opinions about what crossed the line with magic. “I’ve always been hesitant to use truth serums without permission… mostly because I’m afraid they’ll find out and be angry with me.”
“That's the Jane I know. Always concerned about other’s feelings. Just remember that your own feelings also matter.” She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and set out a cup of tea for me. “Uncle Terrance is already asleep, so I thought we’d have a little girl time. I bet you’re famished.”
"Sounds delightful." I sipped the ginger tea blend—the same kind she’d given me since high school when I’d spent those summers with her. “You remembered I love this one.”
“Of course, Jane. You’re like a daughter to me.” She winked. Moonbeam hopped up onto my lap and bumped my chin with her nose. I ran my fingers over her headas she curled up into a purring ball on my lap. Her warmth comforted me after having braved the November evening outdoors.
“Now, before I get the bread out of the oven, I want you to tell me all about this boy you’ve been seeing.” Aunt Penny sat across from me, then laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them.
“Who told you—never mind, gossip travels at light speed in this family. I’m not officially seeing him, though. We haven’t spoken for a while,” I said, resigning myself to an evening of spilling all my secrets in exchange for Aunt Penny’s sage advice. “He’s a high fae and a healer. His name is Charles Bingley. I met him when I was out with Lizzy at Club Meryton. I hurt my ankle, and he healed it. From that moment on, we spent nearly every day together—for several weeks, anyway. But he left town abruptly, and I haven’t heard from him since. So…”
“So you don’t know what to make of it?” Aunt Penny squeezed a bit of lemon into her tea, then stood to remove the French brioche from the oven. My mouth watered as she placed it on the table and cut large slices for each of us.
“It's probably over.” I didn’t want to dwell on the subject. “Good thing I do a lot of walking when I’m in the city. This isn't the healthiest supper.”
“But occasionally it’s exactly what we need.” She gave me a knowing look. "Sorry about the boy troubles."
"It's hard to find the right person." I buttered and drizzled honey over my bread, steering the conversation toward something else. “You know, the previous photographer for Haven Corp’s convention died just recently. I kind of want to know more about what happened there.”
“Poor soul. Sounds mysterious—and scary.” Aunt Penny, who had always been very religious, looked toward heaven. “You’ve always had good instincts, Jane. How did the photographer die?”
“A car accident, but they suspect foul play. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Moonbeam hopped off my lap and onto the windowsill, batting at a moving shadow outside. I gazed at her silhouette as the sun set behind her. Being a cat had to be nice. She’d never need to worry about careers, relationships, or murder investigations. Goodness.
After helping Aunt Penny tidy up the kitchen and wash the dishes, the evening’s late hour weighed on myeyelids. So after taking a long hot shower, I said goodnight and settled into bed.
In the silvery moment right before sleep, images of Margery Blake from her obituary flitted through my mind. She tried to speak, but her voice fell silent. I picked up on her fear—no, I shared her fear, experienced it myself. She walked through a field and turned back, reaching her hands toward me, as if she were pleading for help or warning me of something. I shuddered.
Chapter 3
Thenextmorning,Iwoke with Margery still on my mind. I must’ve dreamed of her all night because I somehow knew her. I knew she was an introvert and loved nature, like me. She was brave, but lonely. I'd glimpsed part of her life, but the images and words grew fuzzy as sunlight alerted my senses. The scent of Aunt Penny cooking bacon and eggs enticed me from my room, and I found her in the kitchen with Uncle Terrence. Pure joy floated through the air as they danced to swing music while an enchanted spatula tended to the frying pan. She turned to me, wiping her hands on her red and white gingham apron. “Big plans for today, Jane?”
“Yes, I’m heading to the Haven Corporation convention at the Grand Lakes Hotel. They want a few photo shoots for their product launch. I’ve packed my overnight bag just in case, but the message was vague about whether I’d be staying at the hotel overnight. Of course I’ve got mycamera and the lenses all ready either way,” I said while pouring some orange juice. We sat down at her round table with the blue and white checkered tablecloth.
“Grand Lakes Hotel. Well, that’s something, isn’t it? Fancy place. I’ve only been there once or twice for business lunches,” Uncle Terrence said between bites of toast. He sniffed and patted his mustache with a napkin. “You be safe now.”
“Oh, I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.” I mentioned nothing about the murdered photographer to him. He might try to stop me from going if he knew.
As I dressed, I put in a little more effort than usual, running a smoothing serum through my hair to give my long, loose waves extra shine. I steam-pressed my silk blouse and linen trousers, then coated my nails with a light layer of ballet pink polish.
