Page 40 of The Aura Answer
“You do not wantto get our mother involved if Mrs. S is at risk,” Evie warned when the men reported their findings Tuesday morning. She noticed Jax hadn’t been foolish enough to mention this to her last night, after the men left their basement cave.
“Mavis will call in our aunts and the witches union and even Val from Atlanta if she deems the problem serious enough.” Gracie buttered toast at the counter.
“And this is a bad thing how?” Assembly-line fashion, Dante cut up the buttered toast for the kids.
Pris had dressed the twins in flannel Santa Claus pajamas. Combined with their dark curls, they were a holiday card in the making. Evie suffered a pang of envy. Instant children had a certain appeal, although she was still none too certain about her parental skills. Poor Loretta was her test run.
“You have seen our mothers in action,” Pris reminded him. “Logic is not their strength, unless you see beard burning as a sensible response. There is a reason our family was thrown out of Salem or whatever.” She stopped and thought about it. “Although given that back then, no one listened to women, Ireally can’t blame our ancestors for flinging hexes and burning brooms.”
Evie rolled her eyes at Pris’s insight and brought the discussion back to today. “If there is any chance that Mrs. Satterwhite is being used, or the town’s future is jeopardized, a plague of locusts would be mild in comparison to our mothers’ reaction.Not logicaldoes not even begin to cover the circus they’ll create.”
She wished they were discussing holiday pageants. Murder at Christmas was just not right.
“Judge S used to be sweet on Mavis,” Gracie said thoughtfully. “Whatever our mothers did, he’d probably let them get away with it.”
Evie flung a toast crust at her. That was not the direction she wanted to go.
“Is that how they avoid prosecution for burning brooms?” Nick caught the crust before it hit Gracie.
Evie forced her wandering thoughts back to the conversation. “Yup. Satterwhite concluded the brooms were an illusion and harmful to no one. The judge has a few blind spots. I’d still rather have them replacing the town Christmas tree.”
She really wanted to go down to the Barn and look for Sammy’s ghost, but maybe that wasn’t such a great idea given the sheriff’s suspicions. It took a while for spirit energy to coalesce anyway. “Gracie and I can take some of Pris’s cookies next door to the judge’s mother and have a neighborly discussion. Give us a list of concerns so we cover everything.”
“I have some fresh banana bread. Let me wrap that up.” Pris gestured at the loaves on the counter.
“Can I go?” Loretta asked. “We don’t have practice until this afternoon.”
“You won’t learn much,” Evie warned. “Mrs. S is nearing ninety. Sweet as can be but that’s intense magnolia sweet. She’s made of tough stuff. She’ll interrogate you.”
Loretta shrugged. “I’ll be your distraction.”
Evie knuckled her ward’s head. “You’re too old for eleven. Invite her and the judge to Christmas dinner. If we haven’t solved anything by then, we’ll let Mavis at her.”
Which was how Evie ended up leading a holiday parade of Gracie and Loretta and platters of goodies across the lawn to Mrs. Satterwhite’s elegant home.
Unlike Evie’s neglected but colorful Victorian, the Satterwhite’s gingerbread lady was always freshly painted in white. The judge hired a host of maintenance workers to clean and spruce it up. Their elegant porch had a pristine blue ceiling, polished wooden floors with colorful outdoor carpets, a small Christmas tree in a pot, railings wrapped in real evergreen boughs, and cushioned wicker chairs. It had probably been photographed for every garden, interior design, and architecture magazine in existence.
Evie preferred her cluttered porch of birds’ nests, frost-bitten geraniums, and messy porch swings where the kids could roll around toy trucks without harm.
“Not good for reading,” Loretta whispered as they rang the bell.
“Good for the backs of old ladies,” Evie whispered back, tickled that her ward understood the differences in their living spaces.
A housekeeper in lumpy dark woolen skirt and sweater answered.
“Mrs. Brown.” Evie lifted her plate of cookies. “We’ve come bearing gifts. Does Mrs. S have time for a chat?”
The housekeeper opened the door. “She’ll be glad to see y’all. She needs to sit down and rest for a bit anyway. She’s been trying to do too much. I’ll bring tea. C’mon in.”
The waxed halls smelled of evergreen and scented candles. The stair rail was dressed in pine and sparkly silver ribbons. Mrs. S hired decorators.
“Wow, is this what Val’s house is supposed to look like?” Gracie whispered.
Considering the scarred floors, orange flocked wallpaper, and stacks of boxes and furniture their aunt had left behind, Evie tried not to laugh. “Not unless she wants to send us fortunes to hire help. It’s not as if we invite the garden club over for tea.” Evie followed Mrs. Brown to the sunny parlor at the back.
To Evie’s shock, boxes filled the parlor—not Christmas presents but moving cartons.
“What a lovely surprise! Come in, come in, sit down.” Holding a cane for balance, Mrs. Satterwhite strolled into the room as if she were still young and hosting a lavish party. “And you brought Loretta! How are they treating you, child? I knew your grandmother in her day.”
