Monster in My Closet by R.L. Naquin

Author:R.L. Naquin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781426894138
Publisher: Harlequin

Chapter Fourteen

When I gathered up my things to leave for work the next morning, nothing was where I had left it.

I was sure I’d left the sample book on the kitchen counter with my purse. Neither was there. I looked everywhere. Circling through the house, I came back to the kitchen counter. Sometimes when you lose something, it’s not really lost at all, and it ends up right where you knew it was in the first place.

Not this time. But what I hadn’t noticed before was a small, multicolored bag with a gold clasp. I picked it up and opened it. It weighed hardly anything and the inside was also a patchwork of colored fabric. It was beautiful. I stuck my hand in and pulled out my cell phone.

That was weird. I hadn’t seen it in there. I stuck my hand in again. Out came my wallet. I repeated the trick until I had a large pile of crap on the counter—tissues, mints, my appointment book, a banana, two handfuls of stray receipts.

There was no way a fraction of that should have fit in the tiny purse.

I examined the bag more closely, running my fingers over the small squares of fabric held together by the tiniest, most even stitches I’d ever seen.

I couldn’t help myself. I giggled.

I’d complained about my purse in front of Molly a few nights ago. Last night, I left my sample book next to my purse.

I read The Shoemaker and the Elves when I was a kid. I’d been elved. Or brownied.

I put everything in the bag, still marveling at how well it fit. I was going to have to order a new sample book. Those didn’t come cheap. A bag like this, however, was worth a warehouse of sample books.

It was priceless.

I wanted to thank her, but the house was oddly silent. I considered the story of the shoemaker and the elves. When the shoemaker’s wife thanked the elves by making them clothes, they left. Was there a brownie etiquette book that warned against thanking them? Getting advice from old fairy tales was probably not the best way to handle things. I would have to ask Maurice what to do.

Strange that he wasn’t around either.

I turned to leave when another thought occurred to me. How much would the bag hold? I picked up one of the dusty tomes I’d lugged home from Aggie’s place. Brushing it off smeared the cover and made clumps of dirt, so I blew on it too. A cloud rose up and choked me. I hated the idea of putting the dirty thing in my pristine new bag. Whapping at it with dishtowel did a better job. Satisfied it was the best I could do, I compared it to the size of the purse. You are seriously demented if you think this will go in there, Zoey.

I shrugged. Stranger things had happened over the last week. I opened the clasp on the bag and shoved. The book disappeared.

What’s more, the weight of the purse didn’t change an ounce.

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