Easy Bake Coven: Book One of the Vivienne Finch Magical Mysteries (14 page)

Nana
Mary waved her hands. “Oh,
pish
tosh. She’ll get over
it.”

“So
you know about this book.” Vivienne held it out to her. “What is it?”

“Why,
your heritage of course.”

Vivienne
felt her jaw go slack. “Come again?”

Nana
Mary took a deep breath and composed herself. “It’s a collection of spells and
wisdom more properly known as a
grimoire
.”

“Are
you serious?”

“It’s
a book of magic,” Nana Mary explained, “Spells and such that have been in our
family for generations.”

“You’re
pulling my leg.” Vivienne smiled. “I’m not as easy to fool as Mother.”

“I’m
serious.” Nana Mary’s voice was firm. “This is something I’ve been waiting to
tell you for a long time.”

“I
can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Vivienne shook the journal in her hands. “This
is a book of magic? Not the kind about pulling rabbits out of hats or sawing
ladies in half, right?”

Nana
Mary leaned forward in her rocker and pointed her left index finger at
Vivienne. “You’re here because you tried to show it to someone and they didn’t
see anything but blank pages, right?”

Vivienne
blinked in response. “How did you know that?”

Nana
Mary rocked slowly back and forth in her chair. “The same thing happened to me
when I found the book.” She shrugged in response. “I thought maybe I was losing
my marbles early on too. It happens to everyone.”

“Nana
Mary, you’re telling me that you’re a…”

“A
witch?” She finished the sentence. “Yes, I’m telling you that my darling
granddaughter.”

“This
isn’t real.” Vivienne reasoned. “Magic is just sleight of hand card tricks and
coins pulled from ears.”

“For
most people it is anyway.” Nana Mary agreed. “But for those of us skilled in
the craft we know different. We don’t have to accept the status quo of life,
hoping to make lemons into lemonade. We get to bend the rules a little in order
to get the most benefit from certain situations.”

“Mother
is a witch too?”

“She’s
I-N-O class.”

Vivienne
bit down on her lower lip. “What’s that?”

“In
name only.” Nana Mary clarified. “For two hours on Halloween night she wears a
silly black hat while handing out fun-sized candy bars to kids like most of the
regular folks.”

“So
she’s not like you?”

“Or
you either.” Nana Mary smiled. “You see, real magic is powerful. It comes from
nature and nature knows how to portion it out so that things remain in
balance.” She glanced out the window as a gentle breeze rattled the bright red
leaves of a sugar maple tree outside. “To keep things in order the power skips
a generation. Sort of a failsafe mechanism, if you want to get technical.”

Vivienne
rubbed her hand across the worn cover of the
grimoire
.
“Why tell me now?”

Nana
Mary returned her gaze to Vivienne. “Because there’s trouble brewing in town
and you’re going to need magic to get through it in one piece.”

“What
are you talking about?”

“You’re
in danger, my dear. There’s a dark force moving through the town, something
that isn’t playing by the rules of magic.”

“Nana
Mary, you’re frightening me.”

“Good.
Use your fear to your advantage. You’ll need all your energy to focus on
learning the craft and protecting yourself from harm.” Nana Mary pointed to the
book. “The lock opened after it tasted your blood. The
grimoire
has sensed the capability within you and now it offers its secrets.”

Vivienne
glanced down at her finger where the paper cut had been. It was almost
completely healed. “You’ll have to forgive me for acting strange, but this is
an awful lot to take in. I don’t know where to begin or even if I fully believe
in magic.”

“That
doesn’t matter, my dear. The magic believes in the power of you.” She reached
down into her sweater and pulled out a long chain with a round pendant
attached. It had a five-pointed star engraved into a thick piece of silver. “My
final spell was cast the other week. The magic is draining away little by
little with each passing day.”

“You’re
not a witch anymore?”

“I’ll
always be a witch.” Nana Mary smiled warmly as she fingered the pendant. “But
the spell book and all its power has now passed on to you. It’s the way things
have always been and how they are supposed to be.”

“But
I have a business to open, a new relationship to pursue.” Vivienne counted them
off on her right hand. “Now I have to add apprentice witch to the list? I don’t
have time for all this.”

“Make
the time, darling granddaughter.” Nana Mary insisted. “Start at the beginning
of the book and don’t skip ahead. It will all start to make sense, I promise.”
She reached out for a hug. “Now hurry along home and start learning. Oh, and
you better keep this conversation from Nora. If she hears a word of this she’ll
really think I lost my marbles.”

After
leaving Nana Mary’s apartment, she ended up at her mother’s home after all. It
was like living in a day dream, having a magic book that no one else could
read. She couldn’t resist testing the theory one more time. Just to be sure.

“So
I found this journal tucked into the box of books you gave me the other day and
I thought it was interesting.” Vivienne sat at the kitchen table of her
childhood home across from her Mother. Nora was fond of picking a new motif for
her kitchen about every two years and the most recent choice for a decorating
theme turned out to be apples. Café curtains to dish towels to little apple
salt and pepper shakers. If it had an apple on it, it was in her collection.

“What’s
so interesting about it?” Nora took a sip of her tea from a mug with a picture
of a basket of apples on it.

Vivienne
slid the
grimoire
across the table. “Take a look.”

Nora
reached over and opened the cover. Her eyes narrowed. “My word, that’s
something.”

“What
is?” Vivienne practically shouted with excitement.

“This
book is so musty, phew.” She turned her face away from it and grimaced. “It’s
old all right. I’d probably toss it in the garbage.”

“What
about the pages?” Vivienne pressed.

“They’ve
probably got mold spores on them.” She closed the book and pushed it back to Vivienne.
“I better spray the table down with some Lysol after we’re done.”

“Were
they blank?” She asked.

“Shouldn’t
they be?” Nora adjusted her glasses in annoyance. “My eyes aren’t that bad,
dear.” She sighed and sipped some more tea.

“I
was just curious.” Vivienne shrugged. “I didn’t want to toss it if it had some
sort of sentimental value.”

“You’re
starting to sound like Nana Mary now.” Nora clucked her tongue. “You should be
getting more sleep. It’s very important according to this article I read in one
of my magazines. There’s a quiz that even helps you to find the estimated
number of hours of sleep that you need.”

“I
was going to go back to the bakery today and start the destroyed product list.
Sleep isn’t high on the priority list at the moment.” Vivienne ran her fingers
along the worn cover of the journal. It felt warm to her, almost alive. A few
times, out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn the cover looked as
if it were breathing.

“Is
that for your insurance?” Nora asked.

“It’s
for tax purposes.” Vivienne clarified. “I need to keep a record of everything.”

Nora
raised an eyebrow. “I never wanted to run a business because of all those
infernal tax laws. It’s hard enough trying to run a household on a fixed
income.”

Vivienne
knew different. If given the chance, Nora would run a business just to keep up
with Clara
Bunton
. Even though Clara didn’t start a
business, as a widow she inherited one and managed to keep it going. It was one
of the few boasting points that Nora had no chance of topping. “I let the
professionals at
Dowling Tax and Payroll
deal with all the fine details. Everything is done on computer now so you’re in
and out in less than an hour.”

But
she had spent more than an hour and half with her mother. She seemed to be
getting into a habit of giving away time too freely and it simply had to stop.
Vivienne pulled her red Toyota into the alley which led to her parking space.
Even though it was afternoon, the shadows seemed darker and more ominous than
she remembered. After parking her car in the usual spot, she looked at the
dumpster where Mona’s body had been left. Well, not this particular dumpster as
the other one was probably locked up as evidence. But they all looked the same.
Dark blue, rusted edges and lids, with faded property identifiers the disposal
company had spray painted haphazardly on the sides. With keys in hand, she
locked her car up and scurried up the stairs to the back door.

A
loud meow startled her and she nearly dropped the
grimoire
in response. Appearing from behind the dumpster, a large tom cat blinked at her
with his golden eyes. His ears were ragged from old battle wounds, and a patch
of gray and white fur was missing from above his right eye thanks to a recent
fight. “Hello there, Mister Tom Cat.” She smiled and knelt down on the stairs.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough couple of days too.”

He
raised his tail and gave it a few good shakes as he observed her behavior. He
meowed once more as if telling her the introduction was strictly on his terms.

“I’m
not going to hurt you, fellow. I just wanted to say hello.” Vivienne snapped
her fingers at him.

He
watched her carefully for another few seconds and then charged up the stairs
and rubbed against her knees. She carefully stroked the coarse fur along his
back and he purred in response.

“I
haven’t seen you around here before.” She gave his head a little scratch,
careful to avoid the wound. “Where do you live?”

His
gold eyes blinked twice at her and he let out another meow.

“You’re
probably hungry.” She stood up and stuck her key in the back door. As she
stepped inside he sat down on the top step and waited patiently. “I’ll see what
I can find.”

She
flipped on the light switches and the faint smell of baked goods lingered in
the air. She walked over to one of the refrigerators and pulled out a carton of
heavy cream. Locating a chipped saucer she had dropped while setting up the
kitchen, she poured some heavy cream onto it and took it outside to Tom cat.

He
rubbed back and forth against her legs as she set the saucer down.

“Drink
up my little friend.” She smiled as he lapped at the cream with vigor. “It’s
the least I could do for taking my mind off what happened here.”

He
ignored her words as the heavy cream was more important.

She
waved goodbye to him and closed the door, taking care to lock it. It felt odd
to have to do that now. Growing up in Cayuga Cove, she could remember how when
she was a child, people wouldn’t bother to lock their doors at night. Neighbors
trusted each other with spare keys to each other’s homes. Children played games
of hide and go seek outdoors in the dark, rode their bikes along the desolate
hiking trails around the lake, and even camped out in flimsy pup tents in
backyards with nothing but flashlights and stacks of comic books. Serious crime
was something that stayed downstate. But Mona Clarke’s death changed
everything. The sense of trust, so crucial to small town life, was being eroded
by suspicion and fear. Sadly, Vivienne thought to herself, it might never be
the same.

The
destroyed product list hadn’t turned out as long as she thought it was going to
be. She stuffed the items into a clear trash bag and set it alongside the back
door to dispose of when she left for the day. She spent some time going through
the store front with a feather duster and giving all of the shelves and glass
cases a good cleaning. She loved old buildings, but they had less than
desirable perk which seemed to be a never-ending supply of dust.

As
she changed around the tea display, she thought of Mona. It just wasn’t real
yet. Perhaps at the funeral service, when she saw her body resting in the
casket, it would finally ring true. She no sooner had sat down at the bistro
table where she and Mona had had their final conversation when there was a
knock at the front door.

She
stirred from her thoughts and saw Joshua waving to her. He was dressed in his
deputy uniform, looking as dashing as ever. She unlocked the door and smiled.
“I’m glad to see you.”

“So
am I.” He smiled back and removed his hat. “May I come in?”

Vivienne
paused and put her hand across the door slyly. “Is this business or pleasure
related?”

He
waggled his eyebrows at her. “Can it be both?”

“Well,
in that case.” She removed her arm to let him in. “Please make yourself at
home.”