hadn’t prohibited Emily from bringing her girls over to the Francoeurs’ modest ranch that afternoon after school with the small birthday present they had picked out for Molly. The last time Emily had seen Jocelyn, Chip’s arms and shirt were awash in blood and Molly was sobbing. This was not precisely the way any mother wanted a playdate to end.
Still, it was almost as if the woman’s original rage toward the Lintons had been replaced by wariness and unease. Jocelyn seemed more frightened than angered by the idea that the Lintons were in her home; it seemed to Emily that the woman had only agreed to see them because she thought not seeing them would be worse.
Yet the purpose of the visit, in Emily’s mind, was simply to apologize once again as a family and to bring by the birthday present. She presumed that Molly was having a party on Saturday and her children weren’t invited, which was fine, but she still wanted to do all that she could to make sure the twins were invited to any party Molly had next year.
Now the five of them-two mothers and three daughters-were sitting awkwardly but politely in the living room. Emily sensed that Jocelyn was eyeing the twins and her a little guardedly and hadn’t said very much. Really, no one had said much but Emily, as she struggled to find things to talk about (which shouldn’t have been hard with three girls roughly the same age) and topics they might discuss. “Well, this is the main reason we came,” Emily said brightly, after she had run out of things to say. She smiled as broadly as she could and watched as Hallie handed Molly a small box wrapped in silver paper. “It’s a birthday present from all of us.”
The girl looked at her mother, and Jocelyn seemed to be thinking about whether she wanted her daughter to have it. Again, there was that ripple of anxiety on the woman’s broad face. Then, much to Emily’s embarrassment for her own children-Hallie, especially, who had offered the present-Jocelyn took the box from Molly and held it for a moment. She seemed to be weighing it, trying to decide what might be inside. The box was not quite the length of a pack of playing cards and half an inch deeper. She didn’t actually sniff it, but Emily could tell that she was inhaling the air around it to see if whatever was inside had an aroma.
“Not a plant,” she said to Jocelyn, hoping to reassure her. “Nothing herbal. I promise.”
Emily saw a small swell of dread pass over the woman’s face, but Emily had only meant to be glib-not terrifying. Quickly she added, “They’re earrings. That’s all.” She turned to Molly and her girls and added, “Sorry. I guess I just ruined the surprise.”
Jocelyn handed her daughter the box, and Molly opened it with unusual delicacy for a child: She slowly untied the ribbon and peeled back the tape on the wrapping paper. Then she opened the lid and held up one of the silver earrings for her mother to see. “It’s pretty,” she said. “What does it mean?”
Emily knew the interlocking circle of vines was a Celtic symbol of friendship: Reseda had told her. It was why she and her girls had picked out this particular pair of earrings for Molly when the three of them and Reseda visited the jewelry store. She was just about to explain this to the girl when Jocelyn took the earring from her daughter and placed it back inside the box. Then she stood, and Emily was struck by just how tall this woman was; there was a reason that Molly was such a big girl. Jocelyn towered over her, and Emily wanted to rise up off the couch, but she was afraid that she would appear defensive or confrontational if she did. And so she remained seated as her hostess handed her the earrings and said firmly, “No. We will not have these in this house. We will not have your… your beliefs… in this house. Go. Go now.”
“They’re just earrings,” Emily said. “They’re Celtic earrings. That’s all.” She looked at her girls, but clearly they understood. Already they were standing up and slinking toward the front door like chastised puppies. And so Emily stood, too.
“I want no part of your group or their symbolism, and I want my daughter to have no part of it, either,” the woman insisted.
“My group? Really, what group am I a part of? I know you don’t mean my law practice,” Emily argued, though she understood precisely what Molly’s mother was driving at. “I’m serious, Jocelyn, tell me: What group?”
The woman put her hands on her hips and was visibly shaking. Then she took her daughter by the hand and pulled her beside her. “You know better than me. You live in the house where one of them lived. You work for John Hardin.”
“I know next to nothing about Tansy Dunmore. And most of what I know about John Hardin begins and ends with his legal expertise.”
“There are two kinds of people in Bethel. And someday your kind will go too far. Frankly, I think you already have.”
“My kind? Jocelyn, look, I am-”
“Fine,” the woman said, interrupting her. “I believe you. There’s no group. None. There’s no witchcraft and there’s no weird religion. Now, Molly and I have some things to do to get ready for… Well, we just have some things to do,” she said, and Emily understood that Jocelyn was not going to discuss this any further. Clearly the woman was afraid that she had said too much. And so Emily took the girls, who looked no less sheepish as they stood by the front door pulling on their boots, and left the Francoeur house with the little box of earrings in her hand.
R eseda stared up at the looming Victorian from the seat of her car, watching the afternoon sun on the western windows. She couldn’t decide whether the dead would have grown so invasive had the captain remained in West Chester. Probably they would have, but he had been more isolated here-more separated from friends and neighbors and a support group of other pilots-and that seclusion, more than this house, was what may have given the spirits such access. Such command. There was also the possibility that whatever Anise was feeding Chip was exacerbating their control and making their presence more disturbing. But Reseda would never know for sure. Finally she heard another vehicle rumbling up the driveway. She looked into the rearview mirror and saw Emily’s station wagon approaching. A moment later, Emily coasted past, waving, and came to a stop before one of the carriage barn’s two bays. She had the twins with her.
“Coming or going?” Emily asked, as Reseda climbed from her own car.
“Coming,” she answered.
“Does Chip know you’re here?”
“I don’t think so. I just arrived.”
“Well, let’s go inside,” Emily said, and together they started up the front walkway.
“You’re not returning from something pleasant like a dance class or a music lesson, are you?” Reseda asked the twins.
Garnet shook her head no and Hallie sniffed derisively.
“We just tried to make peace with Jocelyn Francoeur,” Emily explained. “Remember the earrings you helped us pick out? Giving them to Molly didn’t go well.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She doesn’t approve of you herbalists.”
“She really doesn’t know us well enough to approve or disapprove. I told you that.”
“She would disagree,” Emily said. “She has mighty strong feelings. And…” She stopped midsentence and said to her girls, “Run ahead and tell your father we’re home and Reseda is here. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Are you going to tell Reseda what happened? What Molly’s mom said?” asked Garnet.
“I may, yes. But please don’t you tell Daddy-or at least wait for me. I’ll be right in,” Emily said, and the girls ran into the house. Then she pulled the box of earrings from her shoulder bag and shook it at Reseda, unable to mask the disgust on her face. She recounted for her how Jocelyn had refused to allow her daughter to accept the gift that they had chosen together and how she had all but called the herbalists witches. Finally Emily put her hands on her hips, and her gaze grew earnest. “Tell me,” she demanded of Reseda, “are you a witch?”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
“A real estate agent.”
“Don’t be coy. I want to know what’s going on here in Bethel and I want to know right now. I want to know why your little group wants to change our names and what you want from me and my girls.”
“It’s why I’ve come here.”
“Okay then, tell me. Now.”
“First we need to begin with your husband.”
“With Chip? He has his share of problems, but-”
