Before you say anything, I know you must have heard what happened in the dining room.” I pointed to the exposed vent in the brick wall. “And you probably also know about my decision to stop practicing magic. But, before we go any further, I need to make one thing clear.”
My uncle looked slightly alarmed as I dropped myself into the chair across from him.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dog cawed from his perch in the far corner of the room.
I shot a look over my shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about it with you either.”
It appeared as though Gideon had been having a pretty cozy evening before I had barged in. He had a book on his lap and a steaming cup of tea at his side. I felt a little bad, but he was part of this family too. It wasn’t fair he always got to opt out of everything. Not that I wanted to talk about it.
My uncle cautiously peered at me over the glasses sitting low on his nose.
“I mean it.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Nora just doesn’t know when to quit sometimes.”
He cleared his throat. “Ah, Nora. In my experience, my sister has—”
“Not that Izzy was much help.”
“Izzy has always tried to be the peacemak—”
“Gideon. I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
My uncle pressed his lips shut.
We sat in silence awhile before he dared ask, “Shall we talk about something else or . . . ?” He cast a hopeful glance down at the novel in his lap.
“Constance Graves.”
He closed the book.
I filled Gideon in on everything I had learned so far—from the rose petal, to Rip’s many lies, to John and Mary’s regrets, to Liz’s obvious anger, and the soap that could have broken the warding on the house. I finished with, “I have all of this background on the family, but I can’t get it to point in any conclusive direction. Yes, Rip is the obvious candidate. I know he still wants Graves House. But I can’t prove anything.”
“You still believe the answer lies in Constance’s will?”
“I don’t know anymore. It doesn’t make sense. That family has been in a stalemate for decades, and that new will could have either motivated someone to get their inheritance sooner or made someone angry enough to kill, but the police would have to know all this, and yet they’re still focused on Nora.”
Gideon nodded. “The crime had to be done quickly, and it would have required a lot of luck on the killer’s part to get in and out the house without being spotted, so it makes sense the police would look to us as suspects, but I can’t imagine what motive they think we have.”
“Exactly, Nora had no reason to kill Constance. And the murder weapon isn’t proof. They have to at least consider the possibility the killer left it there before fleeing the property.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “But I have a feeling none of that matters. They’ve found their suspect and now they’re making their case.”
Gideon nodded. “I have the same feeling.”
“You haven’t seen anything though.”
“No.”
“You would tell us if you had?”
My uncle held my gaze steady in his own. “I would.”
Again, Gideon had fallen into the habit of not telling anyone his premonitions unless they were minor, like the vase falling over in the sunroom. It was too hard for him to know the worst and not be able to prevent it. Now, one of my aunts—I won’t say which, but she’s the pushy one with the red hair—thought that wasn’t entirely true. She believed he did have the power to do something with his premonitions. But without a guarantee, Gideon wanted no part of it. Not after my parents. Not after Lydia.
“I also have a bad feeling about the town hall meeting tomorrow,” I said, looking over at Dog. He appeared to be dozing. “I’m starting to think it is some sort of setup.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure Liz Coleman will say terrible things. I got that much from when I met her, but I can’t shake the feeling she has something up her sleeve.”
Gideon and I fell into silence, lost in our own thoughts.
“Going back to Constance though,” my uncle finally said.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe it wasn’t just one thing that moved her to change her will. Families are funny.” He wagged a finger in the air. “Actually, the entire time you were telling me about the Graves siblings, I couldn’t help but think of one of the Grimm Brothers’ tales.”
I pulled the blanket resting on the back of my chair down onto my lap. “Really?”
“Have you ever heard the story ‘The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage’?”
I frowned. “I can honestly say I have not.”
“Well,” Gideon said, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair and pyramiding his fingers, “in it the mouse, the bird, and the sausage all live together, and they all have very specific roles when it comes to household chores.”
I straightened up. “Wait, wait, wait. The sausage lives with the bird and mouse?”
“Yes.”
“And the sausage has chores?”
“Yes, they all have roles,” Gideon said, ignoring the question in my voice. “The bird collects wood for the fire, the mouse collects water, and the sausage feeds the three of them.”
I frowned again, maybe a little harder. “Do I want to know how the sausage feeds the family?”
My uncle sighed. “If you are unable to suspend your disbelief surrounding the details of the sausage, I’m afraid we will never get through this story.”
“Sorry.”
“Now, one day,” Gideon said, tilting the peak of his fingers toward me, “the bird decides his job is by far the most difficult of the three, so he declares they should all switch roles. The bird decides it will be his job to collect the water, the sausage will collect the wood, and the mouse will cook the dinner.”
“Sounds fair.”
“Except it all goes terribly wrong.”
I probably should have seen that coming, given it was a Grimms’ tale. “What happens?”
“The sausage goes out for wood and gets eaten by a dog.”
I blinked. “That is unfortunate.”
“The mouse tries to season the supper, falls into a pot of boiling water, and dies.”
“And the bird?”
“Falls into the well and drowns.”
“I can see why this particular Grimms’ tale was one of their lesser works.”
Gideon leaned back in his chair. “But it does bring up some interesting points about families.”
“Like we should all stay in our lanes or die?”
“That is the most obvious interpretation, but I was thinking more about how we all fall into character during family strife. And how we can get stuck in those roles, and how they cause us pain. Maybe Constance was tired of being the villain in her family? It sounds like John was angry at his brother for painting the three of them as victims. And maybe Mary was tired of trying to make amends, and her daughter was tired of seeing her try.”
I didn’t answer right away. It was certainly something to consider.
“Whatever the case may be, change in families, even the good kind, can cause pain. Look at you. You are a grown woman, capable of making your own choices, but your aunts will always want to look out for you.”
“I’m fairly certain I said I didn’t want to talk about this.”
Gideon held up his hands in defeat. “I had to try.” He paused a moment, then added, “That being said, I do want to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For setting a terrible example.”
Any residual heat I had been feeling from my argument with Nora drained away as I took in the regret evident on my uncle’s face. “Gideon, what do you mean? You’re still practicing magic.”
“But I hid myself away after what happened to Lydia and your parents. There’s no denying that.”
“I thought you made the choice to isolate yourself because seeing people’s futures was overwhelming?”
“That is certainly true, but given the similarities of our circumstances, I can’t help but wonder if I should have tried harder.” He shook his head and looked off.
I felt terrible Gideon blamed himself in any way for the choice I was making now. But I didn’t want to argue with him. It would only upset him more.
“Anyway,” he said abruptly, “I am quite proud of you for getting into town the way you have been, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
I smiled. “I don’t mind at all.”
“And look at what you’ve accomplished,” he said, spreading his hands wide.
“It’s good of you to say that, but I haven’t discovered much.”
“Maybe you’ve given us more than you think. There are a lot of pieces. It may take some time to figure out how they all fit together.”
It was funny, but as soon as my uncle had said the word pieces, I couldn’t help but think I was forgetting one. An important one. Or maybe not forgetting, but not seeing something right in front of me. Actually, the feeling had been with me since the gift shop, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the soap.
“Thanks, Gideon,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. “For everything. Even the fairy tale.”
“You are very welcome.”
“Maybe next story time, though, we could leave out the sausage?” I suggested, walking toward the spiral stairs.
“It does take away from some of the magic, doesn’t it?”
I snuck back down to the main floor as quietly as I could. While I was really hungry, I didn’t want to risk running into either one of my aunts. We all needed some time.
I wasn’t angry anymore though. Whether I had wanted it or not, Gideon’s story had given me insight into my own family.
We were all frustrated.
Izzy had to be tired of being the peacemaker all the time. Just look at all the work she had put into dinner, and for what? And then there was Nora. I couldn’t help but think she saw herself as the only one in the family to tackle issues head-on. It didn’t matter if I agreed with that assessment or not, Nora believed it, and it had to be frustrating. As for me, well, I was tired of being told how to live my life.
I slipped out the front door, shutting it carefully behind me.
The night air was still and rich with the tangy scent of overripe apples.
I stood in the silence of the porch, feeling the heat leave my face.
I was also tired of having the same fight. I wanted to find a way to be close with Nora again. Izzy too. I didn’t want to keep secrets from them. But they didn’t understand the pain I still carried from losing Adam. They kept saying they wanted me to share it. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. Sharing the pain, though, meant bringing it to the surface, and I didn’t know if I could bear that.
I crossed my arms over my waist.
Besides, I was taking steps forward. I had been to town nearly every day this week. Today alone, I had been to the library and the gift shop. And Gideon was right. I had learned a lot.
Suddenly my arms dropped to my sides.
There it was again. That feeling I was missing something.
What was it?
Something Mary had said? Liz? Ben?
No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t something someone had said. It was more concrete. Like the soap. But not.
What was it?
I tilted my face up to the dark sky. Not that it was all that dark. The moon was full and white.
White.
There it was again.
Part of me was trying to remember something. I could feel my subconscious furiously digging to bring it up to the surface. It was so close. Right on the tip of my tongue.
Something white.
That was it!
Why hadn’t I seen it before?
I had to go!
I ran down the driveway. I had to be sure.
But it was late. Was it too late? I took a quick look at my watch. Late, but not ridiculously so. It would be fine. He would understand. He’d be surprised to see me of course, but not upset. At least I didn’t think he would be upset. Actually, I knew a way to guarantee he wouldn’t be upset!
I stopped dead in my tracks, whirled around, and sprinted back to the house. I wasn’t worried about being quiet this time. This was too important.
Faustus was standing in the threshold of the kitchen, licking his paw as I barreled toward him.
“You need to move, or I am going to jump over you!”
The cat skittered to the side, giving me a look that spoke to the fact I would pay dearly for this affront later. I could live with that.
“Brynn!” Izzy shouted as I ran into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I could make you up a plate.”
“No. No plate. Pie. I need pie.”
“You need pie?” Izzy asked, gesturing weakly to the round tin on the counter.
“Excellent.”
My aunt hovered behind me as I slid a piece of pie onto a plate and hastily swaddled it in plastic wrap.
“Darling, I’m sure you don’t have to use that much wrap if you’re just taking it up to the garage.”
“It’s not for me.”
“Not for you? Then who is it for?”
“Mr. Henderson.”
“Mr. Henderson? But why? Why would you bring that man pie?” Izzy laughed. “You have me in such a tizzy, I’m talking like a nursery rhyme.”
“Sorry. There’s no time to explain. I’ll tell you everything when I get back.” I raced out of the kitchen, then whipped back around, hurried over to Izzy, and kissed her on the cheek. “I want you to know, I see you.” I backed up a step and pointed at her. “I see what you do for this family.” I took a couple more hurried steps then added, “And the world is a better place with you in it, Izzy Warren.”
My aunt smiled, her fingertips at her cheek where I had kissed her. “Thank you. And good luck!”