Read Online A Haunting Is Brewing: A Haunted Home Renovation and a Witchcraft Mystery Novella by Juliet Blackwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Juliet Blackwell
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up a simple shift lined with fringe and tiny diagonal stripes studded by bugle beads; it looked like a cross between a flapper outfit and a go-go dress.
“You’re absolutely right. I love it!”
“Lily’s got a gift—if she says it suits you, it really does,” said Maya.
“You’re going to love it even more when you’re wearing it,” said Lily. “Want to try it on?”
“How could I refuse?”
“Hey, while we’re at it,” said Lily, “I think we should nail down our costumes for the Spooner House fund-raiser.”
I looked at her, surprised. Nothing about Spooner House lately was putting me in a party mood.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Lily continued. “Halloween’s the anniversary of Reginald Spooner hanging himself in the mansion. If he really is active, then it’s the perfect time to be there. In fact, if he’s malevolent, the party would present him with a rare opportunity to . . . I don’t know, wreak havoc. Someone could get hurt.”
“Do you need the coven as backup, Lily?” Bronwyn asked. “Halloween’s a big night for us, but we could spare some time if you need our help.”
“No, thank you, Bronwyn,” Lily said, her expression thoughtful. “Mel’s an expert in this sort of thing.”
“I wouldn’t say exp—,” I began, but she cut me off.
“Mel and I can handle it.”
I feared Lily was putting far too much faith in my shaky abilities.
“I’m not even going to volunteer,” said Maya. “I mean, I guess I could muster the courage if you need my help, but as you know this isn’t in my comfort zone. And besides, I’m taking my nieces trick-or-treating.”
“I thought as much,” said Lily. “No, I really think with the proper preparation, Mel and I can handle it.”
If only I had her faith
, I thought.
For the next forty minutes I pushed the doubts from my mind and indulged in what Lily referred to as “retail therapy.” I had to admit she was right: Though I wasn’t normally much of a shopper, hanging out in Aunt Cora’s Closet was a different experience altogether. No harsh fluorescent lights, no funky recycled air. On the contrary, the lighting was soft and flattering and the whole shop smelled like flowers and herbs and fresh laundry.
Lily plucked armfuls of dresses from the racks with abandon and carted them into the communal dressing room. Bronwyn and Maya ran back and forth, bringing us not only dresses but belts, sashes, bustiers, and feathers boas. . . .
I surrendered to my fate and allowed the eager staff of Aunt Cora’s Closet to dress me as they would. Eventually, after half an hour of feeling like a kid playing dress-up, I wound up looking like a vintage gypsy. With my “curvy”—read, plump and busty—figure, it worked. Lily looked more sedate in an Edwardian-era light sage green dress complete with a high collar, lacy yoke, and about two hundred tiny little buttons that marched up the back.
“Et voila,”
said Bronwyn as she held out two molded leather masks: one cream and gold decorated with faux jewels and the other a deep red with an ostrich plume. I took the red, Lily the cream.
We stood back and admired ourselves in the mirror: We looked like we had just stepped out of a different time.
“This is what I love about costumes,” Lily said softly. “When you change clothes, you really
change
. The way you hold yourself, the way others see you . . . it’s fascinating.”
And so was she
, I thought. Unfortunately, my mind slipped back to the purpose of finding costumes— the Haunted Halloween Ball, which, I feared, might be far more truly haunted than any of us had banked on.
“Lily,” I said in a low voice. “I’m not sure how to put this, but I really am not an expert in the whole ghost thing. In anything, really, other than historic renovations. I’m great at unclogging toilets, for example. But spirits and such . . . ? I just sort of muddle my way through.”
“You and me both. I never finished my
“You’re absolutely right. I love it!”
“Lily’s got a gift—if she says it suits you, it really does,” said Maya.
“You’re going to love it even more when you’re wearing it,” said Lily. “Want to try it on?”
“How could I refuse?”
“Hey, while we’re at it,” said Lily, “I think we should nail down our costumes for the Spooner House fund-raiser.”
I looked at her, surprised. Nothing about Spooner House lately was putting me in a party mood.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Lily continued. “Halloween’s the anniversary of Reginald Spooner hanging himself in the mansion. If he really is active, then it’s the perfect time to be there. In fact, if he’s malevolent, the party would present him with a rare opportunity to . . . I don’t know, wreak havoc. Someone could get hurt.”
“Do you need the coven as backup, Lily?” Bronwyn asked. “Halloween’s a big night for us, but we could spare some time if you need our help.”
“No, thank you, Bronwyn,” Lily said, her expression thoughtful. “Mel’s an expert in this sort of thing.”
“I wouldn’t say exp—,” I began, but she cut me off.
“Mel and I can handle it.”
I feared Lily was putting far too much faith in my shaky abilities.
“I’m not even going to volunteer,” said Maya. “I mean, I guess I could muster the courage if you need my help, but as you know this isn’t in my comfort zone. And besides, I’m taking my nieces trick-or-treating.”
“I thought as much,” said Lily. “No, I really think with the proper preparation, Mel and I can handle it.”
If only I had her faith
, I thought.
For the next forty minutes I pushed the doubts from my mind and indulged in what Lily referred to as “retail therapy.” I had to admit she was right: Though I wasn’t normally much of a shopper, hanging out in Aunt Cora’s Closet was a different experience altogether. No harsh fluorescent lights, no funky recycled air. On the contrary, the lighting was soft and flattering and the whole shop smelled like flowers and herbs and fresh laundry.
Lily plucked armfuls of dresses from the racks with abandon and carted them into the communal dressing room. Bronwyn and Maya ran back and forth, bringing us not only dresses but belts, sashes, bustiers, and feathers boas. . . .
I surrendered to my fate and allowed the eager staff of Aunt Cora’s Closet to dress me as they would. Eventually, after half an hour of feeling like a kid playing dress-up, I wound up looking like a vintage gypsy. With my “curvy”—read, plump and busty—figure, it worked. Lily looked more sedate in an Edwardian-era light sage green dress complete with a high collar, lacy yoke, and about two hundred tiny little buttons that marched up the back.
“Et voila,”
said Bronwyn as she held out two molded leather masks: one cream and gold decorated with faux jewels and the other a deep red with an ostrich plume. I took the red, Lily the cream.
We stood back and admired ourselves in the mirror: We looked like we had just stepped out of a different time.
“This is what I love about costumes,” Lily said softly. “When you change clothes, you really
change
. The way you hold yourself, the way others see you . . . it’s fascinating.”
And so was she
, I thought. Unfortunately, my mind slipped back to the purpose of finding costumes— the Haunted Halloween Ball, which, I feared, might be far more truly haunted than any of us had banked on.
“Lily,” I said in a low voice. “I’m not sure how to put this, but I really am not an expert in the whole ghost thing. In anything, really, other than historic renovations. I’m great at unclogging toilets, for example. But spirits and such . . . ? I just sort of muddle my way through.”
“You and me both. I never finished my
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