Mystic Pieces Read online

  MYSTIC PIECES

  Shady Grove Mysteries, Book 1

  Chapter 1

  Most people went drinking to celebrate their twenty-first birthday. Me? Job hunting in eleven degree temperatures. Over the past few weeks, I'd learned the hard way that the types of jobs I was qualified for didn’t get posted online. Welcome to Shady Grove. We didn’t even have a Starbucks. I’d need to walk around and physically talk to people about hiring me, like they did in the 1950s.

  No one ever said I didn’t know how to have a good time.

  Actually, now that I thought about it, people said that a lot. I spent most of my time home alone with my brother and his three-year-old son. But not drinking wasn’t my fault. Shady Grove didn’t have a bar, and until I got a job, there was no way to get to Willow Falls, the next town over.

  Main Street had been built a couple hundred years ago and never updated. Cobblestones still lined the streets, and the sidewalks were made of raised wood. Wooden awnings protected shoppers from the elements, with matching signs hanging down to advertise each business. A cozy area to work, no doubt.

  The first six places I went to request an application nearly defeated me. Three weren’t hiring; two were permanently closed due to the recession. The magic shop was operating on such a bizarre schedule, they might be a front for a money-laundering operation. After all, did anyone still believe in magic?

  When the cold started to get to me, I decided to take a break and headed over to On What Grounds?. The owner described herself as a “recovering lawyer” who moved to Shady Grove a few years ago and took the coffee shop over from her aunt.

  Since it sat adjacent to Main Street, the one and only caffeine hole in town bore the same quaint look, right down to the wooden frame and red and white striped awnings over the giant plate-glass windows. During the summer, there would be bistro tables set up outside, but no one was masochistic enough to use them in January.

  I managed to hit the store between the pre-work rush and the mid-morning rush, so it was relatively quiet. The only one working was the manager, Rusty. We’d gone on two extremely unexciting dates not long after I moved to town. Barely spoken since. He was cute, which is why I’d gone out with him. His wire-rimmed glasses and spiky black hair gave him a sort of Daniel Radcliffe vibe. Even better when he had a couple of days’ worth of stubble, like now. Brown eyes, long lashes, and a devastatingly adorable dimple in his left cheek. Too bad he hadn’t seemed into me at all when we went out.

  “Hey, Aly. Where’s Kyle?” I’d moved here to help my brother Kevin with his three-year-old after my sister-in-law died. For the past year, I’d pretty much had my nephew in tow everywhere I went. “Everything okay?”

  “Great!” I said. “He started preschool, so I’m free in the mornings. Actually, I’m looking for a job. You’re not by any chance hiring, are you?”

  There wasn’t a sign in the window, but I had to ask. This morning couldn’t be a total loss.

  He shook his head. “Sorry, no. Does this mean you’re not heading back to California? I always figured you wouldn’t be here long.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if that was why things didn’t work out between us, but now wasn’t the time to rehash our failed relationship. Instead, I said, “No, I enrolled at Maloney University. They’ve got a great program, and it’s time to finish my degree.”

  “Cool.” He grinned at me. “Try Olive’s place, around the corner. I hear she’s looking for someone.”

  I thanked him for the tip and downed my small coffee as fast as possible. A few minutes later, I braced myself for the cold and headed out. As promised, as I rounded the corner onto Main Street, I spotted a HELP WANTED sign hanging in the window of a store I’d never paid much attention to. To be fair, though, I pretty much didn’t go anywhere other than to playdates and baby gymnastics. Which wasn’t hiring—I’d asked.

  This particular battered shingle advertised a shop named “Missing Pieces,” whatever that meant. Not that it mattered; they needed a worker. I’d go in even if they sold only objects with holes in them.

  The sign itself did not instill confidence in me. “Help Wanted: Must be open-minded.”

  Open-minded about what? Like, the owner dyed her hair a different color every week, or she sometimes sacrificed goats after they shut down for the day?

  But jobs didn’t grow on trees in Shady Grove, and I’d been without one too long. When I first moved here, Kevin had paid my bills, but now that Kyle had started preschool, it was time to support myself. My brother was very generous, especially since I’d been his only childcare provider, but I hated relying on him. I needed an independent income. Something where, when I spent an afternoon with my nephew, it was because I wanted to, and not because I needed the cash. Also, I was re-entering college in two weeks, and if I couldn’t pay for a car, I couldn’t get to campus.

  Back to Missing Pieces and their unusual “Help Wanted” sign. I stared at it for another thirty seconds or so, but my mind was already made up. Unless “being open-minded” meant making porn in the basement of the shop, it was this or delivering newspapers. The latter option inspired zero enthusiasm in me, both because it required getting up at four o’clock in the morning and because it paid per subscriber. In a town of roughly ten thousand people where most everyone got their news online, a paper route would barely buy the umbrella I’d need to keep my hair dry while walking around town. It rained a lot in Shady Grove.

  Element number 1 was hydrogen. Number 2 was helium.

  When I got nervous, I recited the elements of the periodic table in my head. Sometimes by number, sometimes by symbol. We all have our quirks.

  With a deep sigh, I smoothed my hair back with one hand and pushed the door open with the other. I didn’t know what a store called “Missing Pieces” would have to offer, but there was only one way to find out. Personally, I hoped for puzzles. As long as they weren’t literally missing pieces.

  Jingling bells hanging above the door welcomed me. The store was darker inside than I’d expected, especially with the giant windows, probably because it was utterly crammed full of stuff. Sunlight had no way to penetrate the room. I’d never seen so much junk—er, treasures?—all in one space. Furniture filled every available spot on the floor, except for the clothing rack by the far wall. Bookshelves overflowed with old volumes that my fingers itched to explore. To my left, an entire display case full of old tea sets would have made my mom swoon with joy. On the right sat a disorganized mess: a birdcage; one of those screens that divided a room; a child’s red, wooden Radio Flyer wagon. Actually, Kyle might like that. I wondered how much it cost. But one thing at a time.

  “Hello dear. Can I help you?” I turned to find a woman who appeared to be about fifty, with long dark hair parted in the center and pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Dark liner rimming her blue eyes made them look enormous. She wore a high-necked lemon-colored dress. The old-fashioned kind with a hoop skirt and matching parasol. Maybe being open-minded meant not commenting on her choice of clothing? I could live with that.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just—.”

  “Don’t let the dress fool you, sweetie.” She laughed, a warm sound that made me like her instantly. “I’m trying to find something for a costume ball next week. I don’t normally walk around looking like I stepped out of the Civil War. My name is Olive. I own this place.”

  Well, that was a relief.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aly Reynolds.” I gestured toward the window. “I’m here about the job.”

  “Oh, yes, of course!” She took a deep breath and fanned her face with one of those old fans I’d only ever seen in the movies. “Goodness, this is the warmest garment I’ve ever worn. No wonder everyone
needed smelling salts back then. They must’ve been constantly dropping from heat exhaustion. Why don’t you fill out an application and take a look around while I change?”

  Hopefully she wouldn’t take long, because I could see myself getting lost in here, looking at all the amazing treasures. The store reminded me of my grandmother’s closet. If I ventured in much further, I’d need a trail of bread crumbs to find my way back.

  Beside the counter holding the register sat a patio bistro set. It seemed both out-of-place inside the store and yet fitting. Nice table, with a white marble top and fancy curved metal legs. It was something I imagined you might find on the sidewalk at a little cafe in Paris. The chairs had matching backs and legs, with gold cushions the same color as the veins in the marble. It didn’t look terribly comfortable, but it was beautiful.

  Since it was the only place to sit, I pulled out a chair and got to work. The paper Olive had handed me was only a page, and with my paltry work history, it didn’t take long to get to the end. There was no sign of her, so I left it on the table and went to explore the shop.

  I wandered through the rows, marveling at an old settee here, an armoire there. Unfortunately, the guest room at my brother’s house didn’t have a lot of room for extra furniture. Since I’d been living in student housing before Katrina died, I arrived in Shady Grove with not much more than my laptop, my clothes, and my books. What else did a person need? We had a lot of empty rooms, but filling them up hadn’t been high on our priority list.

  A couple of the price tags told me that it was for the best I didn’t have a strong desire to own antique furniture. But it was cool to think I could work here, help this stuff find a home. Sit on it and fan myself sometimes, like the heroine in a historical romance. Possibly wearing an outfit like the one Olive was currently changing out of.

  At the thought, I glanced toward the doorway she had disappeared through, but I didn’t hear anything. That dress had about six thousand buttons down the back; maybe I should have offered to help. Maybe this was her interview test, where she was waiting to see if I was nice enough to offer or to check on her when she didn’t return.

  Turning the corner, I found myself face to face with the most fabulously gorgeous jewelry display I’d ever seen in my life. Rings, earrings, bracelets, cuff links? A dazzling array of colors, metals, and gems. This was way more my speed—most of what you’d find in a shop like this should be costume junk. Worth a few bucks, not much more.

  A particular piece caught my eye, shining and shimmering at me from its maroon velvet box. The ring practically glowed in the dim light, sending out a beacon as strong as if it called my name. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  It wasn’t the fanciest piece in the glass display, or the largest, but the glimmering opal drew me in. My finger itched to see how the item would feel.

  Hanging out with a three-year-old all day made jewelry impractical. Kyle wasn’t into dress-up. The ring probably didn’t fit. If it wasn’t fake, I couldn’t afford it. A million excuses went through my mind, but none of them mattered. Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up the ring and slid the gold band over the fourth finger of my right hand. It fit so perfectly, it might have been made for me.

  Lightning hit me. My entire body jolted. Instantly, my mind was transported. The store fell away. No more jewelry case, no more rose-patchouli scent or gently piped-in classical music. I didn’t know where I was, but I couldn’t move.

  In front of me, my hands wrapped around a worn leather steering wheel. On the other side of the windshield, headlights barely penetrated the darkness. My entire body jerked from side-to-side as the steering wheel fought my grip. Everything spun.

  Trees streamed by the window, until one popped up directly in front of me.

  We were going to crash!

  A woman screamed. Something hit the back of my neck, hard. My vision blurred. My ears roared, and that terrible scream kept echoing. Blood gurgled in my throat. I choked.

  What was happening?

  Pain lanced my entire body. A scream rang out.

  But the scream wasn’t in the store. It came from inside me. Tortured sounds escaped my mouth. I jumped, shaking my head as if doing so could make all the horrible sensations go away. My fingers tore at the ring. I didn’t know why or how, but I needed to get it off me.

  “Aly?” Olive’s voice penetrated the fog, sounding a million miles away. I lunged toward the sound.

  The world returned to normal. The glass case in front of me came into focus, the rows of merchandise created walls, and only the sound of my breathing filled the space. I touched one hand to the back of my skull, but everything felt normal. Nothing to explain the pain, the blood.

  Open-minded? Nope. No, thanks. Not me. I didn’t need a job this badly. Shady Grove Gazette, here I come.

  “Aly! There you are.” Olive turned the corner from the main aisle into my row, now dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt. She looked like a completely different person. If she’d heard my scream, she must be a remarkably talented actress. “I see you found your ring.”

  Chapter 2

  The grandfather clock ticked off the seconds as Olive and I stared at each other. The longer the silence stretched between us, the more concerned her face became. But still, her words didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t speak until she repeated herself.

  “You’ve got your ring?”

  “There’s been a mistake,” I said. “I found this ring in the case and tried it on. It isn’t mine.”

  “Of course it is.” She stared at my shaking hands for a long moment before her eyes traveled up to my face. “What’s wrong? Most people are excited to find items that suit them.”

  “An item that suits me? Are you joking?” I spit the words at her as I yanked that stupid thing off my finger. Well, I tried. It stuck. “What was that? What happened to me?”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, you’re the one I’ve been waiting for. And I’m rarely mistaken.”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m just looking for a job. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sorry. I should go.”

  Then I did the only thing that made sense. I yanked at the band a second time, but nothing happened. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. No words would come out. The more I tried to get the ring off, the more it seemed to clutch my finger.

  Olive took a step toward me, and I panicked.

  Ducking past her, I ran.

  “Aly, stop!” Her voice rang out behind me, but I ignored her. Throwing the front door open, I tore through it.

  About two feet down the sidewalk, I bounced off a brick wall. No, wait. A guy. A very good-looking guy, now that I stopped to look at him. Tall, but not too tall. A hint of stubble along his jaw, with spiky light brown hair and a crooked smile that somehow eased my blind panic. Under any other circumstances, I’d have stopped to talk to him.

  “Whoa, there!” he said. “Where’s the fire?”

  “I’m sorry—I can’t—I have to….” Words bubbled out of me, not making a lick of sense. My face burned.

  “Are you okay?”

  No words came to me. Here I was talking to the best-looking guy I’d seen since moving to Shady Grove, and I couldn’t even form a sentence. It didn’t matter. Behind me, the welcome bells at Missing Pieces jingled, signaling the arrival of Olive. Before I could finish my barely-formed apology, my feet took off down the street a second time.

  About three blocks away, my senses returned, and I slowed to a halt. First of all, I didn’t even know what the ring cost, but by racing out of the store wearing it, I’d just committed shoplifting for the first time in my life. After giving the store owner my name, address, telephone number, social security, and references. Great move, Aly.

  It didn't matter that the ring attacked my senses. My reaction wasn’t rational. Shame burned through me. As a would-be scientist, rational was my middle name. Heck, with parents who gave me a name like Aluminum, I was lucky it wasn�
��t my first name. At least “Aluminum” shortened to something cute. Poor Kelvin had to go to court and get a legal name change the day he turned eighteen. He’d never liked it when I called him Kelvy.

  In my defense, I was only nine.

  Number 3 was lithium. Also Kevin’s favorite old album. Number 4 was beryllium. Number 5 was…. I couldn’t remember element number 5. Now was not the time. I needed to calm down.

  Forcing myself to breath normally, I turned around in the direction I’d come. The sidewalk was empty. No one followed me. Neither Olive nor the guy I’d plowed through were anywhere to be seen.

  What happened back there? Something drew me to the ring, I put it on, and—I experienced some kind of psychotic break? A hallucination? If it was either of those things, then the timing must be a coincidence. To the best of my (very limited) knowledge, medical events weren’t generally associated with people trying on jewelry. I mean, I was no doctor but that never once happened on Grey’s Anatomy. There must be a reasonable explanation.

  It must’ve been my imagination that kept the ring stuck to my finger when I tried to remove it. With a sigh, I leaned against the low wall separating the wooden sidewalk from Main Street. This time, when my fingers closed around the cool metal, it slid easily over my knuckle and came off in my hand.

  I held it up to the light, examining it. A large oval opal, sparkling in the light, set into a gold band. Gorgeous. Hopefully also inexpensive, since I’d accidentally stolen it.

  In other news, it seemed unlikely that Olive would offer me a job now. Darn it. Maybe Kevin would let me take his car over to Willow Falls this weekend.

  One thing at a time. I needed to go back to Missing Pieces and return the ring. I certainly didn’t want to keep it, and if I dropped it down the storm drain, I’d have to pay for it. With my luck, it probably cost about five hundred dollars.

  A voice in my head suggested putting the ring back on to see if the same thing happened a second time, but—that voice must be drunk. No way, no how. I’d rather put on a Boston Red Sox jersey and run through the Bronx.