Page 113 of Fresh Old Bounties

Ian was right—I had been silly about the whole payment thing. There had been a mental barrier there I didn’t even know existed until he’d pointed it out.

No more.

As I stared triumphantly at the ceiling, basking in my newfound freedom of mental blocks, my phone rang. Unknown number.

Given the last few days, I should’ve been wary of any unidentified incoming calls, but I was riding high on my first step toward reclaiming my sunny days, so I gave it a chance.

“Hope Avery,” I answered with a soul-deep brightness.

“Hello. This is Thomas Porter from Bluebeach’s Council returning your call.”

Grandma’s Council. I gripped my phone tightly. “Yes, hi. What can you tell me?”

“You put in a request for Hazel Oakes’ information. Is this correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

The bell tinkled, and I peeked through the bead curtain. Hannah stood by the door, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the hanger. I caught her eye and pointed at the phone. She gestured for me to stay on my call and sat at the counter, happy to wait.

I have her a thumbs up and let the bead strings drop.

“I’m afraid there’s been some mishandling of files,” the man on the other side of the call was saying.

The words brought me up short. “Mishandling?”

“It appears that when we reorganized the archive some two decades ago, some of the files ended up filed under the wrong names. We only recently became aware of this mistake through our campaign to digitize our old records.”

Suddenly, I found it hard to breathe. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“To be blunt, all of Hazel Oakes information registered with the Council—address, registered family members, and so on, was filed under another member’s name.”

“I… I see.”

“Unfortunately,” Thomas continued, “everything is rather muddled up, and while we know it happened, we haven’t been able to figure out under which name your grandmother’s files ended up. The project takes a lot of resources so it’s been slow going. I hope you understand.”

“Yes. Yes, I understand. And the mix up happened twenty years ago?” I asked to make sure.

“Twenty-four years ago, to be exact.”

“That’s… How unfortunate.”

“Indeed. I have put a priority on finding your grandmother’s information, but I wanted to notify you of the issue. It might take a while to get to it.”

“It’s no problem. I can wait.”

I could wait for the rest of my life because it no longer mattered.

Ian’s ex-partner, or whoever had hired him, must’ve accessed the Council archives, then taken the wrong address and information—Grandma’s—and not the dark witch’s. They must have assumed she was using a new identity and name—not uncommon in the paranormal world—and that’s why the names didn’t match. I didn’t remember seeing any other names on Ian’s ex-partner’s files, but I’d have to double check.

Grandma hadn’t been evil, and now I had the proof.

A colossal wave of relief swamped me, leaving me lightheaded.

Thank you, Mother.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I ended the call with the Council witch and went inside the shop, my spirits as buoyant as if they’d been made of foam. But less environmentally damaging. Highly buoyant wood. Yes. That.

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