Enchantment Emporium

“No, not now.” And Auntie Jane’s tone added, but soon. It also added: We have every intention of bringing all that power you’re flashing around back into the lines one way or another, young man, and this delay is not helping your case as far as our suspicions about you are concerned. We’d prefer you to come willingly, but we’re perfectly willing to bind you if you don’t, and our patience is running short. Also, you need to call your mother more often. She worries.

The aunties hadn’t invented subtext—at least these particular aunties hadn’t, Allie didn’t want to make assumptions about the originals—but they squeezed every possible nuance out of it.

Charlie left the next morning after breakfast.

“I’ve got a friend in Halifax going into the studio today,” she explained, tossing David’s old hockey bag over one shoulder and picking up her guitar. “I told him I’d sit in.” Head cocked, a strand of blue hair fell down over her eyes as she studied Allie’s face. “I’ll stay if you need me to.”

“To hold my hand because I’m friendless and unemployed?”

“Something like that.”

Allie kissed her quickly and gave her a shove off the porch. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Just go.”

“All right, then.”

“You can’t keep Charlie in one place, Allie-kitten.”

Allie leaned back against her father’s arm and watched the shimmer between the apple trees dissipate. “I know.”

“She’ll come back to you. She always does.”

“I know.”

“She reminds me a lot of your grandmother.”

“Didn’t need to hear that.”

He gave her one final squeeze, and grabbed his backpack. “Gotta go, kid. High school history doesn’t teach itself.” He paused, halfway to his truck. “You could always think about teaching, Kitten. Add a master’s of education to that fine arts degree. As I recall, you used to have mad skills with macaroni and glue.”

“I’ll think about it, Dad.”

“You want something to do with your life besides standing around and feeling sorry for yourself?” Auntie Jane yanked open the door and thrust a basket into her hands. “Go get the eggs.”

The hens had no advice to offer. Mozart tried to eat her shoelaces.

By the time the mail came that afternoon, she’d made three batches of cookies and a lemon loaf.

“There’s something for you, Allie.” Her mother tossed a pile of sales flyers onto the table and held out a manila envelope. “No return address. Maybe it’s a job offer.”

“I haven’t applied for any jobs, Mom.”

“That might be why you’re not working, then.”

“I just lost the last one,” Allie muttered, opening the envelope. “And Dr. Yan was positive we were going to get that funding renewed so why would I have been looking?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No.” She pulled two sheets of paper from the envelope, unfolded them, read them, and frowned. “This isn’t… I mean, it’s not…”

“Isn’t not what?” Auntie Jane demanded, plugging the kettle in.

“It’s from Gran. It says if I’m reading this, she’s dead.”

TWO

“I, Catherine Amanda Gale, being of sound mind…”

“That’s always been debatable,” Auntie Jane snorted.

“… and body do hereby leave all my worldly possessions to my granddaughter, Alysha Catherine Gale. These possessions include the building at 1223 9th Avenue S.E., Calgary, Alberta and all its contents.” Allie set the handwritten sheet of paper down and took a deep breath. Then a second. “That’s all there is. She signed it on the 28th and had it witnessed by a Joe O’Hallon. I think it’s O’Hallon. I mean his penmanship sucks, but I just spent eighteen months reading some pretty hinky documentation, and field archaeologists have remarkably crappy penmanship and…”

“Allie.”

She snapped her mouth shut and turned to her mother, reaching out to touch her shoulder. The soft nap of her sweater was still cool from walking down the lane to get the mail. Was it possible that so much had changed in such a little time? “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. Here I’m all thrown by losing my grandmother, and you’ve lost your mother.”

“She isn’t dead.”

“But…” Frowning, Allie tapped the letter. “She says she’s dead.”