Page 12 of Midlife Witch Unexpected

“The cemetery has always seemed really strange. It’s so large for a private cemetery,” I said, changing the subject. At my age, there was one thing I knew, if I didn’t want to talk about something, I didn’t have to.

The truth was, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt so sideswiped by the discovery that my husband liked men, I wasn’t sure if I could really trust my judgment. How had I not seen that?

The worst part was that at my age I should be celebrating my successes. I should feel confident in my knowledge, capabilities, and power. Instead, I felt like a fucking idiot.

Branson took his cue from me. “One afternoon I’ll take you on a tour of the cemetery. It’s an amazing collection of headstones in there. You can get lost in there.”

Well, that’s not creepy at all. But the truth was, it sounded rather nice.

“I would love to see the cemetery.” I took a sip of my coffee.

“There will be a full moon soon,” he said. “It’s lovely on the night of a full moon.”

“I think we’ll just stick to the daytime,” I said, as a chill ran over my skin.

Chapter 7

The police station was quiet on a weekday morning. I glanced into the Sheriff’s window, but he wasn’t there. The middle-aged admin, Bianca, was there, her curls bobby as she bent forward over paperwork. She didn’t look up when Branson and I walked in.

Branson cleared his throat.

Bianca held up a finger, continuing to scribble on the form she was filling in by hand. Who did that anymore? I looked up at Branson and shrugged. No point in rushing. Clearly, this woman had her process.

She added the final flourish on the form before looking up. “Hey, it’s The Hayes,” she said, her green eyes glinting.

I stared at her. “Mae Hayes,” I said. “Come to pick up my jeep.”

“I know you’re The Hayes,” Bianca laughed, moving to her filing cabinet to get out some other paperwork.

“What does that mean?” I asked. I glanced back at Branson who was leaning against the wall, his muscular arms folded against his chest.

He quickly raised his gaze from looking at my butt.

“Seriously?” I shook my head as I turned back to Bianca, my skin burning hot with embarrassment. Branson had been checking out my ass. And from the look in Bianca’s eye, she had seen it too. She gave me a conspiratorial smile. I shook my head in silent disagreement. There was no way.

What was I even thinking?

I shook the thought out of my head. There was no way I was going to get lost in flights of fantasy about a guy over a decade my junior. No matter how hot he was, how easy he was to talk to, or how he was checking out my butt…I shook my head fiercely.

“Why are you calling me The Hayes?” I asked Bianca as I heard Branson slip out the door.

“Well, you own The Estate,” Bianca shrugged. “Anyone who oversees The Estate, that’s the title. We called your grandfather it when I was a little girl and then after he died it was your aunt. The oldest child inherits the house and the name, too. So, it’s your name now.”

“I like my first name just fine,” I snapped. “You can call me Mae.”

“Okay, Mae, no worries,” Bianca said with a smile. She put a piece of paper on the counter and handed me a pen. “I just need you to sign this paperwork showing you came back sober and all. I think that’s about all it says.”

“I was sober last night,” I protested.

Bianca just stared at me. I stared back. She didn’t care. She just needed my signature. And for me to get my jeep, I needed to give it to her. We came to a silent agreement that only middle-aged women can. There were bigger battles to fight. So for now, we were going to see this red tape through and walk together out the other side.

I picked up the pen.

“So, are you going to stay around?” Bianca asked. “There’s a lot to get to know in this town.”

“This town’s the size of a postage stamp.” I glanced over the piece of paper.

"Those are the best kind of towns," Bianca said. "Quiet on the surface but so small you actually know everything going on. In the city and you never get the dirt, if you know what I mean. It's like you just float on the surface of everything. Everyone's polite at work, polite at the grocery store, polite at school, and polite at birthday parties. Because you never know what’s really going on until somebody accidentally turns up pregnant. Then you know something was going on behind the scenes you didn’t know about. But that’s the city. It’s different here. Here, well, we all know everything about everyone.”

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