That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to hope someday, somehow, I’d find a way to rejoin my coven, but if this was my life for the moment, I’d take it.
Looking out over the wide expanse of what would eventually be the front lawn, but was now mostly mud, I smiled as Chester Sherwood waved to me from a horseshoe section he’d cordoned off with tomato plant sticks and string. He made his way to the front porch when he saw me, his stout body taking each step with forceful determination.
“He looks quite well, doesn’t he?” Win commented.
I nodded, pulling my knees to my chest and smiling fondly as Chester hiked up his signature red suspenders. “He looks great. I heard a rumor he was seeing Lavinia Stapleton, but she can’t seem to get him to commit to being her full-time boyfriend.”
“Maybe our message will help him let go?”
Smiling fondly, I bobbed my head. “I hope so.”
“Mornin’, Stevie!” Chester chirped, his eyes bright with the prospect of helping me design the front garden. “Ya look good, kiddo. Told ya that doc would fix ya right up.”
I grinned at him, tucking my hair behind my ears. “He did indeed. But forget me, how are you, Casanova? I hear you’ve been courting one Lavinia Stapleton.”
He blushed and tweaked my cheek with his calloused fingers. “She’s a fine old gal. Makes a helluva chicken casserole, too.”
I’d given my next words a lot of thought, about how I’d approach the subject of Violet, Chester’s deceased wife. I’d decided after his relationship with Madam Zoltar and his wish to believe in the afterlife because of his wife, he’d be okay with what I had to pass on.
“You know, Chester, I had a dream the other night. You know who was in it?”
“Better not be me. I’m too old for a pretty spry thing like you.”
Chuckling, I said, “If only I was forty years older, but you weren’t in the dream. Though, I think it had to do with you. Now, Madam Zoltar? She was in my dream. Clear as day, happy, smiling, wearing a really pretty caftan in teal blue with splashes of pink. Wanna know what she said to me in the dream? Because it was the funniest thing, and I’m not sure I understand it…”
Chester’s eyes showed interest when he nodded. “I sure like hearin’ she’s lookin’ well. What’d she say?”
I grabbed his hand and held it. “She said she wanted me to tell you that Violet is as lovely as you said she was, and maybe even prettier than you described. And then she said something I don’t understand. She said Violet told her to tell you, if she got to the lilac bush down by her father’s farm before you did, she’d wait for you.”
Chester took his white hat with the brown band around it off his head and held it at his heart, his eyes faraway. “She really said that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Squeezing his hand, I nodded and smiled, swallowing hard so I wouldn’t burst into tears. “She did,” I whispered.
Chester visibly gulped, using his shoulder to wipe at his eyes. “Used to meet her down there when we were courtin’. It was our favorite spot, and it’s where I proposed. It was our little secret place…nobody knows about it but us two…” His voice hitched, thick with emotion.
And that was how I knew I’d done the right thing.
Hopping up, I hugged him hard and he hugged me back. Then he set me from him, his hands at my waist, and said, “You’re a good girl, Stevie. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.”
“Told you I’d make you like me eventually,” I teased, dropping a kiss on his cheek before he wandered back down to the garden, a watery smile of wonder on his face.
Brushing the tears from my eyes with my thumb, I plopped back down on the steps and sighed.
“You’re a kind woman, Stevie Cartwright.”
“I bet you say that to all the people you’ve dumped in the middle of a murder.”
“Funny you should mention murder, because I have a question about that night with Sal. Do you think you’re up to it?”
I didn’t shrink from the subject of Sal at all; I wanted to face it head-on so I could rid myself of the terror he’d instilled in me. I wouldn’t let him haunt me. “I’m up for it.”
“Who do you suppose called him to tip him off about the change in my will? My suspicions lead me to wonder if it was someone from Paris?”
That was the one thing I still hadn’t come to terms with, but I had my suspicions, too. “I have a horrible feeling it was Adam Westfield’s wife, Ann. He might not be here on this plane, but he’s a powerful warlock, Win, with plenty of ways to reach out. Because he’s instilled such terror in her, if anyone could talk that woman into doing something like that, it’s him.”