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“Hello,” I called. “I came to unlock the gate.”
They turned startled eyes toward me, then exchanged worried glances before responding. “We don’t need to get inside,” one of them said.
“Okay,” I said casually, then proceeded to the padlock. “I’m Josephine. Are you twins?”
They smiled and nodded. “I’m Taylor and this is Tessa… Benson.”
“You must be Tilda’s daughters.”
They exchanged another glance. “That’s right,” Tessa said warily.
“I met her at the library.”
“Are you staying in Rose’s house?” Tayler asked.
“Yes.”
“Alone?” Tessa asked, her eyes wide.
I hesitated and instead of answering, I asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you here so early?”
“It’s a new moon—” Tessa began
“School project,” Taylor cut in with a meaningful look at her sister.
After a beat, Tessa nodded agreement. “Right, school project. Local history and all that.”
I smiled and nodded. “Lots of history in cemeteries, I suppose.”
They nodded, then stood hugging themselves until I relented. “Have a good day.”
“Thanks,” they chorused.
I could feel their gazes on my back as I walked away. When I glanced over my shoulder, they had resumed their strange pacing in front of the gate, eyes down. I decided it must be some kind of ritual for the new moon, and from their body language, that the girls were new at it. Remembering how they were being shown ceremonial steps in a previous Wiccan ritual, I deduced the teenagers were new to the religion.
Witches in training?
August 5, Monday
“WHEN DO you expect to find a new groundskeeper?” I asked.
The out-of-state harried listing agent for The Whisper House, Gladys Maddox, sighed. “I haven’t received any responses to the job posting.”
I frowned. “The housesitting agreement said I’d have a groundskeeper to help with the house. Maybe you should increase the amount of money being offered.”
“I will,” she said. “But this property has proven to be… problematic.”
“I understand the former owner died.”
“That’s right. And people in that area are superstitious.”
“Who owns the property now?”
“All I know is the property is in probate. My company was hired to manage the online listing.”
After extracting a lukewarm promise to keep me posted about the position, I ended the call. With a sigh I sat down at the small desk in my bedroom to try to focus on my novel. I still hadn’t received my new laptop, nor had I texted my editor Bruce a new timeline for delivery.
I wasn’t feeling particularly inspired.
