Page 32 of The Change
“There’s a drunk woman in my friend’s car. Will you please bring her into the house?”
“Sure thing,” he said, flashing the ladies his movie-star smile.
They both watched him walk out to the drive, bare-chested and shoeless. “You’re my hero, Harriett,” Jo said. “But for the record, I could have brought her inside.”
“I know,” said Harriett. “It’s just that Eric likes feeling useful. And it was about time he got dressed and went home, anyway. Come in and make yourself comfortable.”
When Jo looked around, she could hardly believe she was indoors. The walls of the house had been transformed into vertical gardens, and trees bearing unusual fruit grew out of containers. Jo examined the herbs sprouting from the hanging planter affixed to the nearest wall, but couldn’t identify a single one of them. Books bristling with scraps of paper marking important pages were stacked high on the Eames coffee table and rose like columns from the floor beside the Knoll sofa. On top of the piles closest to her wereWorking Conjure: A Guide to Hoodoo Folk Magic, Cleansing Rites of Curanderismo,andShen Nong Ben Cao Jing.Squirrels were building a massive nest in the living room fireplace, and a flock of little green parakeets chased each other around the high ceilings.
Harriett’s gentleman caller reappeared with a limp Ms. Welsh cradled in his arms.
“Just put her on the sofa, please,” Harriett told him.
When the woman was laid out like Sleeping Beauty, Harriett handed the man his shirt and shoes, then leaned down to examine the new arrival. She pried open one of Ms. Welsh’s eyes, examined her fingernails, and sniffed at the breath leaking out of her lungs.
“Jo, would you mind popping into the hall linen closet and grabbing a spare blanket for our guest?”
Jo did as she was asked. On her way back to the living room, she stopped to wait while Harriett finished saying a very warm goodbye to her gentleman friend.
As soon as she heard the door close, Jo headed for the sofa and spread the blanket over the sleeping woman. Harriett had slipped on a pair of glasses and taken a place behind a wooden counter that had once served as a bar but appeared to have been transformed into a workbench. There were still liquor-filled bottles lining the shelf behind her, but stuffed inside them were leaves, roots, and various other ingredients Jo wasn’t certain she wanted to identify.Glass jars with cork stoppers held dried mushrooms, a rainbow of berries, and something that upon closer inspection appeared to be shriveled caterpillars.
“I hope it’s not rude to say so, but your boyfriend is smoking hot,” Jo remarked casually.
Harriett smirked as she plucked dried buds from a branch and dropped them into a marble mortar, followed by a handful of fresh green leaves. “I’m long past the boyfriend stage,” she said. “I don’t need to own anyone. And I certainly don’t want anyone to think they own me. Eric and I just enjoy one another’s company. At least twice a week.”
“Twice a week? Damn, Harriett. I can’t evenrememberwhat it’s like to have sex twice a week.”
“I have sex withErictwice a week. He’s not the only one.” Harriett seemed to relish the shock on Jo’s face. “I’m making up for lost time. I didn’t have enough sex before I got married,” she explained. “My family was conservative, and everyone made it seem like such a big deal. My grandmother had me convinced I’d catch AIDS, get knocked up, and be branded the town whore if I dropped my trousers. For years I was too worried about going to hell to realize how much I liked fucking. I’m not worried about anything anymore.”
Harriett added a handful of seedpods to the mortar and ground its contents into a mush, which she spooned into a glass. Then she added a splash of pale green liquid from one of the liquor bottles, poured some Evian on top, and stirred.
“What are you making?” Jo asked.
“An antidote for the alcohol sloshing around in our guest’s system, along with a few other things that will help her feel better. What she really needs is a month of good meals and a lot of rest. Her system is on the verge of collapse,” Harriett said. “There are clear signs of heavy drinking, and the color of her tongue indicates she’sseverely malnourished. Her troubles must have started long before her daughter’s disappearance. This woman’s life has not been easy. She’s too young to be so ill.”
“Young? How old do you think she is?” Jo asked quietly.
Harriett glanced up and took another look at the woman laid out on the sofa. “Late thirties,” she replied.
“No.” Jo couldn’t believe it. That would make her much younger than both of them.
“Nothing ages a person like poverty and misery,” Harriett said. “Despite what all the ads claim, it’s not skin cream that helps some women keep their glow. The only true youth serum has two ingredients—luck and money.”
Harriett finished mixing the strange herbal cocktail and held it up to the light for inspection. Seemingly satisfied with the result, she came out from behind the bar and took a seat on the edge of the sofa. Ms. Welsh’s eyes fluttered open as Harriett gently lifted her head.
“Drink,” Harriett ordered as she poured a thin trickle into the woman’s mouth. The patient swallowed and grimaced at the taste. A few seconds later, she sat upright, took the glass from Harriett’s hands, and guzzled the rest of its contents, twin streams of green liquid running down either side of her chin.
She sat back and wiped her mouth with the palm of her hand. “That was disgusting. What the hell did you just give me?”
“Just a little something I made. I assume it worked?”
“You could get rich selling that stuff.”
“Why would I trade a creation as pure as this for something as filthy as money?” Harriett laughed.
The woman looked at Harriett as if she might be insane. Then her eyes widened. “Fucking hell! You’re the witch, aren’t you?” She cringed and recoiled when she realized what she’d said. “Sorry,sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off. That’s just what people at work call you.”
Harriett’s smile broadened, exposing the gap between her teeth. “That doesn’t offend me. ‘Witch’ is the label society slaps on women it can’t understand or control. But feel free to call me Harriett. And you are?”
