The buildings got newer the farther she got from the town square. Which made sense, if they’d started construction there and slowly built outwards. These houses had no rhyme or reason to their design and seemed to reflect whatever mood their owners had been feeling at the time, though they tended towards the small and squat and didn’t have much in the way of yards. This close to the mountains, the native plants were tenacious and scrappy, and the few houses that dared to have gardens had been overtaken by weeds.
A painted lady flew by, fluttering lazily as it caught a light breeze scented by dust and pollen. Dandelions and stickers burst through the cracks in the half-paved sidewalks, and everywhere Nadine looked, there were clusters of wild California poppies and canyon snow irises. It was a riot of primeval color, flourishing in stark defiance of the locals’ attempts to corral that wildness into some semblance of order and control.
(maybe his wife’s tamed some of the wildness out of him)
Suddenly, the warm breeze stung where it touched her face. Pushing out thoughts of Cal in his suit from her head, Nadine shook herself and continued walking until she caught a flash of pink in her periphery that made her stop and turn her head.
Oh my God, was her first thought.I have to show Nikki.
Helena hadn’t quite done the house justice with her description. Therewereflamingos, yes, but also pinwheels shaped like yellow daisies and windchimes made out of what looked like stained glass and a big welcome mat that said “No Visitors Shall Be Admitted Without Approval From the Cat.” No cat was lurking under the lilies of the valley planted beneath the big bay window, but a couple of cheeky garden gnomes were. One of them, Nadine noticed, had its pants pulled down, exposing two perfect little half-moons of its painted-on gnome behind.
She snapped a picture with her phone—at least the camera still worked—before walking up and ringing the bell. It immediately swung open and a woman with two-toned hair burst out, shrugging ropes of pink and platinum locks over one shoulder as she adjusted her LuLaRoe leggings.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “You must be Nadine. I saw you come up through the window and thought that must be you, but I figured it might be better to let you find your own way rather than ambushing you out on the sidewalk.”
“Uh, hi. Yep, I’m Nadine. And you must be Jessica. I love the flamingos.”
“I hate them,” Jessica said cheerfully. “They’re tacky as hell. But they piss off my neighbors and keep the ravens away, and that’s good enough for me. Come in, come in. Or Ms. Frizzle will get out.”
“Ms. Frizzle?”
“The cat.” Jessica had managed to seize control of the duffel bag and was hoisting it down the hallway like a hostage. She paused, half-hunkered over. “You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No.”
“Good. Let me give you the tour.” Jessica paraded Nadine through a messy kitchen (“There’s a Nespresso for your morning coffee! And it’s real! Not one of those cheap Chinese knock-offs!”), past a living room that was obviously in full use by Jessica herself (“Let me know if you want to watch TV, and I’ll book it!”), before they finally arrived at the guest bedroom.
It was very small with a statement wall that had been papered in blue and white polkadots that would have been better suited to a nursery. A homemade quilt covered the small trundle bed that was stitched completely in pastels. On one wall was a painting of flowers spilling out of a tea cup that could have been ripped from the wall of any pediatric ward.
“You have your own bathroom.” Jessica walked to the door that Nadine had assumed was a closet and swung it open, revealing a shower, sink, and toilet. “I left you a shelf in the fridge. Food at the general store is hideously overpriced but the diner does day-after discounts of their pastries if you’re looking for a cheap breakfast.”
“Wow, this is great. Thanks for having me.”
“What are you doing in Argentum, anyhow?”
Shit, here we go again.“The silver mines.” She twisted her necklace. “I had to see them. I, uh, love rocks.”
“Uh-huh.” Jessica gave her a skeptical once-over. “Well, there’s a crystal caverns tour in Penneton if you’re up for a detour on your way back. The mines out here aren’t much to look at. Most of the tunnels were closed up years ago. Now there’s just a couple of rusty mining carts and a museum that the mayor’s wife runs.”
An orange cat appeared. Ms. Frizzle, Nadine supposed. She watched Jessica bend to scratch it behind the tail. The cat wound around her legs twice before jumping up on the made bed, which proved, on closer inspection, to be covered with a generous dusting of light orange hair.
Nadine held out her hand for the cat to sniff, petting it absently as it bunted her hand. “I saw a woman with a camera taking pictures in the square,” she ventured, keeping her eyes safely on the cat. “She looked kind of boho?”
“Sounds like Odessa Cullraven. She’s always taking pictures of the town. They slap them on postcards that they sell up at their manor.”
“Like the ones at the general store?”
“Not of Ravensgate.” Jessica scoffed. “That Helena Peters likes to think she and her family are the true heirs to this town. It kills her right in the soul, having to look at that statue of Caledon Cullraven in the town square every day. They’re related, you know. Distantly. By marriage.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, she petitioned to have the statue removed some years ago.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Some woke nonsense about such-and-such. She cut it out, though, when someone pointed out that her own family history wasn’t exactly pristine, so that shut her up. But there’s bad blood there. I wouldn’t bring it up,” she added forbiddingly.
“Oh.” Nadine straightened, letting her hand fall. The cat was starting to regard them both with sleepy irritation. “I shouldn’t have asked about it in the store—about going to the house, I mean. My cab driver mentioned it, so I was curious. I didn’t know.”
