“Thank you again for installing it. It’s perfect. No notes.”
My chest puffs at her praise. I must admit, it was Lindsay’s idea, and it was a brilliant one. After selling the painting and Susanna’s jewelry, she offered to split the five hundred thousand with me as a peace offering for breaking us up. I couldn’t accept. Knowing that her child would have such a better life with enough funds set aside, I refused. She countered with one hundred thousand. That, I accepted.
As with everything else, my mind drifted to Natalie, and how hard she’d have to work to save even a fraction of that. I may be dead, but I’m no deadbeat. The money immediately went into Natalie’s savings account, and she spoke to someone who understands modern finances, who then moved it into another account that will accrue interest over time. It was all I could do to ease the financial burden that Natalie carries by being the sole breadwinner, and I’m glad to have had the opportunity. She did, however, take about eight thousand out of the hundred to buy me a laptop and replace various appliances.
With the computer, which I still find extremely difficult to use, I have been looking for remote work as of late. In fact, I applied to be an online moderator for Reddit.
Natalie laughed when I told her about that job application.
“Do you think I’ll be good at it?” I asked her.
“Oh yeah,” she replied, kissing my jaw. “You’ll silence those incels quicker than they can post conspiracy theories.”
“Remind me to call Linds after the seance is over. She’s dying to hear all about it.”
“I will,” I promise her. They have grown closer since Lindsay apologized. Lindsay is even seeking to learn more about her grandmother’s interest in witchcraft. She has made it known to Natalie that she wants to meet more of the witches in town, see if they’d be willing to teach her things.
The doorbell rings, and Natalie shoots out of bed, shoving her feet into her boots as I quickly wrap her puffy coat around her shoulders before she throws the door open.
“Hi, Natalie,” the woman says. She has dark skin that seems to glow when the light hits her a certain way, and her posture is so perfect, there are moments I wonder if she’s actually a statue. She and the person with her are bundled in wool coats and thick colorful scarves.
“Mayor Crane,” she says. “Thank you so much for making a house call. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. You did have a favor to call in, and I’m impressed you chose to use it for this.”
I clear my throat, making my presence known.
“Mayor Crane,” Natalie says, cheeks flushed. “This is Winston Duffy, my–”
“Husband,” I add. We’re not technically married. Not yet. Natalie doesn’t seem to care if we make it official or not, and I suppose neither do I. But that will not stop me from referring to her as my wife. The sound of it in my head and on my tongue makes me feel complete.
“Nice to meet you, Winston.” I watch her lean close to Natalie, and I think I hear her say, “Salted caramel, was it?”
And Natalie’s laughter is a loud, surprised cackle as it fills the house.
I follow Natalie, Mayor Crane, and her second-in-command, Ezra, outside toward the garden. It has snowed a few times, butnot heavily enough to accumulate. The grounds are frozen and solid beneath us as Ezra lays out a large square blanket with thick black symbols in the center. She opens a briefcase and places candles, tied bundles of leaves, and other such oddities in particular spots on the blanket. While she does this, Natalie and the mayor sit on the corners, crossing their legs.
“I wasn’t aware we were entertaining guests,” I hear Ethel say in a tight voice.
This is my cue. I’m Ethel’s designated de-escalator, tasked with calming her down and reassuring her that none of these women are here to see Thomas. “Ethel, hello. We have a very special day planned for you.”
A smile breaks through the stiff and wary expression on her face. “Is that so?”
“Come along, dear.” I guide her over to the blanket, and Natalie introduces Ethel to Mayor Crane and Ezra, explaining their purpose.
Ethel’s eyes immediately fill with hopeful tears. “You mean… Truly? I might get to see my Thomas?” She looks to me for confirmation, and when I nod, her body starts to shake as she attempts to fan the tears falling down her cheeks.
Natalie places a photo of Thomas, taken from one of Ethel’s photo albums, in the center of the blanket. There are many strange things that occur next. The women join hands from where they’re seated around the blanket, closing their eyes. The mayor asks them to hum and recite some phrases in a language I don’t understand.
Then, Mayor Crane takes the lead, and starts muttering more phrases on her own, while the rest remain silent with their hands clasped and eyes closed. A reddish cloud appears in the middle of the blanket, hovering two feet off the ground. Lightning cracks inside the blood-red orb, thunder echoing, while still contained inside of it.
Ethel’s face is open and filled with longing as she remains locked on the cloud.
“Ethel,” Mayor Crane says, her voice at least two octaves deeper than when she arrived. “Speak to Thomas. He needs to hear your voice. Mine won’t be able to summon him.”
She stammers at first, but then, through tears, Ethel says, “Thomas? Are you there, darling?”
Mayor Crane gives her a nod, encouraging her to continue.
