Easy Bake Coven: Book One of the Vivienne Finch Magical Mysteries (12 page)

She
rushed over to the window and pried the closed blinds apart with her fingers.
Nora was standing outside with a small cardboard box in her hands.

“Mother?”
Vivienne opened the door. “What brings you over on a book club night?”

Nora
stepped inside the living room and set the box down on the small accent table
next to the sofa. “I thought about our conversation today and I figured you
could use these.”

Vivienne
peeked into the box and saw a smattering of old books, some rather faded and
tattered. “What are they?”

“It’s
a bunch of old cookbooks and recipes from Nana Mary.” Nora pulled out an
avocado green cloth-covered book. The outer edges of the pages were yellowed
with a combination of age and cigarette smoke as Nana Mary always had a
cigarette in one hand and a spatula in the other whenever she cooked.

Vivienne
pulled out a little tin box that had ‘My Recipes’ written in light blue pen.
“This is wonderful. Are you sure Nana Mary won’t mind you giving these to me?”
She opened the top and found at least fifty index cards stuffed inside.

“She
wanted me to give them to you the last time I visited her.” Nora shook her
head. “But her memory has been failing so much lately she’ll probably forget
all about them.”

“I
didn’t think her memory was failing the last time I saw her.” Nana Mary Darden
had been a resident at the
Whispering
Oaks
assisted living facility for almost five years. Despite being ninety
years of age, she had remained quite independent and sharp witted. Light
housekeeping and general household maintenance helped to ease her daily tasks,
but that had been all the assisting she had required or wanted. Vivienne tried
to visit her at least twice a month, usually on quiet Sunday afternoons.

Nora
put her hands on her hips. “Yesterday I went to drop off a little box of that
rocky road fudge from
Weiss
Chocolatiers
that she likes so much. Well, I no sooner
stepped into her apartment when she shushed me because she was busy catching up
on gossip.”

Vivienne
smiled. “Well, you know how social she is.”

“She
was talking to a crow that was perched outside the window.” Nora tossed her
hands up for emphasis. “Does that sound normal to you?”

“Are
you sure she just wasn’t pulling your leg?” Vivienne pulled out a faded book
with pictures of cakes and pies on the cover.

“I
didn’t stay long enough to find out. She insisted I give you these books and
that was that.” Nora eyed the collection. “I’ve never been much of a cook so
they’d do me no good.”

“I’ll
treasure them.” Vivienne smiled. “This is just what I need to get inspired to
do the opening again.”

“When
is that going to be?”

Vivienne
shrugged. “Well, I think it’d be tacky to do it before Mona’s service. I’d
guess a week or so?”

Nora
pulled at the sleeve of her gray pea coat and focused on her wristwatch. “Good
heavens, I’m running late.”

“What’s
the book this time?” Vivienne wondered.

“It’s
something about a red balloon and a little boy’s ghost I think.” Nora wondered
aloud. “Ever hear of it?”

“Didn’t
you read it?”

“I
kept falling asleep after the first chapter.” She gave Vivienne a little kiss
on the cheek. “I’ll just nod my head and say how moving it was.”

“What
if it’s a horror story?” Vivienne asked.

“I
can still be moved by a little boy’s ghost, darling daughter.” Nora laughed.
“Besides, I’ll just blame the wine if it comes to that.”

“Have
fun.” Vivienne waved as she rushed off to her car and drove away.

She
shut the door and grabbed the box. As she sat on the sofa she pulled out the
rest of the contents. What looked like a journal tumbled onto the floor and
caught her attention. “What’s this?” She asked herself.

It
felt warm to the touch as she picked it up. The cover was lined with creases
and cracks and appeared to be made of black leather. It was secured by one of
those little metal locks that were often found on diaries. She tried to pry it
open but it held fast against her efforts. Over the next few minutes she had
tried to open it with a butter knife, a thumb tack, a straightened paper clip,
and a bobby pin. Yet, it stubbornly refused to give up its secrets.

She
gave up and reached for one of the other cloth-bound cookbooks inside the box
when she slid her index finger across a sharp edge of paper and was rewarded
with a fine cut. She pulled her hand back to examine the wound and a drop of
fresh blood splashed onto the lock. She stuck her finger in her mouth and tried
to wipe the blood off the lock with her free hand.

There
was a tiny gurgling sound as the blood disappeared into the key hole. With a
sudden ‘pop’, the cover flew open with a start. Vivienne jumped back in
surprise.

The
journal’s pages were not the usual lined paper. Instead, it was filled with
those uneven pulpy pages that were quite thick and sturdy. She couldn’t believe
it. The blood must have lubricated the old lock like oil. She reasoned that her
previous efforts to open it no doubt helped with the process. She had learned
over the years that things that seemed mysterious and creepy often just turned
out to be a series of random luck and coincidence merging together.

Using
the soft light from the table lamp behind the sofa, she could barely make out
the date of the first entry but it appeared to be March 28th, 1692. She
squinted and held it closer to the light to make sure she had read it right.
Yes, there was no doubt it was indeed the correct date. Why on earth would Nana
Mary have an old book like this tucked in with her cookbooks?

She
continued reading the first page. ‘
Little
Dorothy Good has been accused and we must flee into the wilds for our very
lives. That a four year old child could be accused of witchcraft is beyond
comprehension, but fear blinds those who should know better. Even though the
threat of being attacked by hostile natives is quite real, the larger threat of
our coven being exposed leaves us no choice but to flee Salem and start a safe
haven far away from this madness. We are leaving tonight under cover of
darkness, may the Goddess protect us.
’

“This
can’t be real.” Vivienne gasped out loud. A lost journal from the Salem witch
trials? This had to be some sort of novel that was made to look like such a thing.
She flipped to the back of the book to find some sort of barcode or publishing
information but there was none. There were pages of handwritten journal notes,
strange drawings of symbols and letters she didn’t recognize, and the
unmistakable smell that very old books had.

With
the opening of her store delayed, she had unexpected free time to investigate
this little mystery. Her first stop tomorrow morning would be at the Carriage
House Antiques on Main Street. The proprietors, Tristan and Nathaniel, were
experts at decoding the past.

Vivienne
had never really shopped at
Carriage
House Antiques
before. She had browsed the charming nooks and crannies of
the large Victorian home that was filled with antiques from bygone years many
times. But whenever she turned over one of those little price tags, her purse
cried uncle and her knees went weak.

As
she sat in a newly upholstered wingback chair holding the journal, Nathaniel
finished ringing out a customer who had purchased a most unusual looking desk
lamp shaped like an owl. “This will go perfect in your study.” He smiled and
handed the receipt and change. “I’ll let you know if I get that Tiffany lamp at
the auction next week.”

“Oh,
please do.” The customer, one of the blue-rinse ladies that most likely
frequented Pearl’s Beauty Shop over on Cayuga Circle, nodded eagerly. “You know
my number.”

As
she left, Nathaniel closed the door and sighed. “I wish there were more Mrs.
Rathbun’s
in town.”

“She
must really have a keen sense of style.” Vivienne reasoned.

At
that moment, the heavy crimson drapes that hid the backroom area from customer
view parted and Tristan emerged. He was dressed in a dark blue two-piece suit
that was tailored to fit every inch of his trim body. “Actually, she has a
loaded bank account and the good sense to avoid those glittery widow traps
otherwise known as casinos.”

Nathaniel
laughed and joined them both in the small consultation room where clients could
peruse auction catalogs. He was dressed more casually than his husband. Wearing
a hunter green polo shirt, khaki dress pants, and well-worn loafers, his
easy-going style fit his friendly personality perfectly. “She’s single-handedly
paid our mortgage for the past six months with her purchases.

“I
sure hope she likes baked goods.” Vivienne chimed in. “I could use a customer
like that.”

Tristan
adjusted his necktie and collar. “If you bake things in the shape of owls, I’m
sure she’ll buy them.”

“So
what brings you here today?” Nathaniel asked.

Vivienne
lifted the journal from her lap and set it atop the cherry wood table that had
one of those checker boards built into the top. “I was wondering if you could
help me with this.”

“What
is it?” Tristan asked.

“It
looks like a personal journal, but I’m thinking it may be an old novel that was
supposed to read like one.” Vivienne explained. “It was found in a box of old
cookbooks that my Nana Mary wanted me to have.”

“May
I?” Nathaniel asked as his hand hovered over the worn leather cover.

“Yes,
but take care not to lock it. I had a devil of a time getting it to open last
night.”

He
turned the cover and began sifting through the pages. “So what makes you think
this might be a rare book?”

“Well,
the first entry is dated in 1692.” Vivienne explained. “I know it looks old,
but I’m having a hard time believing it’s really that old if you know what I
mean.”

Nathaniel
leaned over to Tristan and showed him the contents. His red hair glimmered from
the Tiffany-styled lamps suspended above. “It’s a journal for sure.”

Tristan’s
brow furrowed. He turned a few more pages. “What entry are you referring to?”

“The
first page has an entry mentioning the Salem colony.” Vivienne leaned forward
in her chair. “I didn’t find any publishing information though.”

Tristan
set the book down in front of her. “Show me.”

She
flipped the pages back to the beginning and pointed to the entry she had read
last night. “This is what I’m talking about.”

Nathaniel
shrugged at Tristan. “I don’t see anything but blank pages.”

Tristan
nodded. “Me either.”

Vivienne
shook her head. “Are you two pulling my leg? Is this some sort of early
Halloween prank?”

Nathaniel’s
face betrayed no sign of humor. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Vivienne
tapped her finger on the entry that was crystal clear even in the soft lighting
of the store. “Neither of you can see the words on this page?”

Tristan
shrugged. “I’m sorry, Vivienne. All I see is one blank page after the next.”

Nathaniel
glanced at his watch, having lost interest in the prank he was certain she was
pulling. “Based on the condition of the cover and the yellowing of the pages,
it’s probably over a hundred years old. As for any value, well...”

Not
wanting to be seen as a lunatic, she decided to play along with the Halloween
prank idea. “Okay, I give up. You got me. Kathy pulled this one on me the other
day and I thought I’d give it a try.”

Tristan
scratched at his dark brown goatee and smiled. “Good one, Vivienne.”

Nathaniel
let out a little chuckle. “You almost had me there for a minute too.” He folded
his arms across his chest and let out a sigh. “It’s nice to know another
Halloween fanatic will be moving onto Main Street.”

“If
you go all out with decorating this year we won’t stand out so much.” Tristan
added. “Maybe we can even work on some cross promotions?”

“That’s
a great idea.” Vivienne retrieved the journal and closed it with a snap. “I did
actually have another reason for coming in today.” She tried to think quickly
of what it was. “I was thinking of adding a few vintage baking supplies to my
store for some decoration.” The lie rolled off her tongue with surprising ease.

“I
just saw some copper gelatin molds at an auction in New York about two weeks
ago.” Tristan recalled. “They’d look stunning mounted on a wall display.”

“I
was thinking about those different sized whisks and measuring cups from last
week?” Nathaniel added. “I think it was a set of six. You could put some in
your front window and really draw some attention.”

Vivienne
could only imagine what this little jaunt to their store was going to cost her.
She put on her best smile and tried to act interested. “I’m afraid my budget is
quite small for that kind of thing now. Maybe a few months down the road I’d
like to add some of those?”