(eng) Madelyn Alt - Bewitching Mystery 03 by Hex Marks the Spot

Author:Hex Marks the Spot [Spot, Hex Marks the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Bewitching Mystery 3 - Hex Marks the Spot

Chapter 11

Mom was waiting for me when I pulled up in front of Ye Olde Homestead. An old-style farmhouse adrift in a sea of nondescript suburban modernity, it was as warm and comfortable as a slouchy knit sweater. I wouldn’t have minded the chance to pop in and say a quick hello to my dad and Grandpa Gordon, but my mom immediately jumped in the car and nodded toward the road. Between that, her fussy wool jacket-and-skirt combo that might have been in style in the early Eighties, and her purposeful expression, it was pretty obvious she wasn’t in the mood for delays.

“What’s wrong with your heater?” she asked as she fiddled with the limited number of knobs, levers, and buttons on Christine’s dash.

“Oh, you know. Old vehicles. Sometimes they get a little testy.”

Her mouth made a little moue of distaste. “You might think about getting yourself a more reliable vehicle, you know. Reliability, that’s the ticket. A young woman needs dependable transportation. You can’t afford to be breaking down on the side of the road in this day and age. There’s just too much…too much…Well, a young woman can’t be too careful.”

That was as close as she would come to saying that recent events had rocked her world. And my mom wasn’t exactly a rockin’ ‘n’ rollin’ kind of girl. More like stallin’ ‘n’ stoppin’.

“Iam careful, Mom,” I said as I steered Christine down the road, full speed ahead. “And besides, I have a cell phone now, in case I do break down on the side of the road. It’s the next best thing to a spanking new ride.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, unconvinced.

“Where are we going?” I asked, hoping to distract her.

“We’re meeting at Louisa Murray’s house over in the Woodhaven subdivision on Alden Road. Just a small crew this evening on such short notice, but that will do for planning purposes, I should think. You remember Louisa, she was your Sunday school teacher when you were little.”

I didn’t, not really, but because it was easier, I said, “Um, yes. Sunday school. Right.”

“Louisa was very keen to head this up when I talked with her,” Mom said conversationally. “It was a brain wave on my part to call her, you know. She was the one who fell in love with that armoire that Luc Metzger and your Amish friend made. I knew she’d want to help, and of course she has so much experience, I was inclined to let her organize the whole thing. All the better for poor Mrs. Metzger, and that’s what’s important, after all. Besides, it gives Louisa a sense of purpose. After her husband died a couple years back, she foundered a bit, as though she didn’t quite know what to do with her time. She needed something to draw that eagle eye focus of hers, and the Ladies Auxiliary has helped.”

I listened to her chatter on about her friend, the other ladies in her group, and the various projects they’d tackled, but only with half an ear.

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