“What about this one, sweetpea?” Momma asked, offering her a beige hat with a peacock feather.
“Yes, that one! Thank you, Momma Goose!”
“You’re welcome, Baby Gosling!”
Harmony giggled. Ridley watched, mesmerized, as her little sister draped the peacock-feather hat over Barbie’s cornrows and pretend-walked her to the edge of the couch and back. This was how things used to be. Well, not exactly how things used to be, because Daniel wasn’t here. Also, back then, Ridley had been so jealous of her mother and little sister playing dolls and dress-up and all the other things she wished she could do with them. But right now, she only felt a tiny sliver of that old jealousy. Right now, what she mostly felt was wonder. And hope.
And life, like the angel card had tried to tell her.
She turned to go.
“Morgan!”
“Yup?”
Harmony thrust something at her. It was a tiny gray silk blouse with pearl buttons.
“Isn’t it the beautifulest clothes you’ve ever seen?”
“Sure.”
“I want you to wear it. Pretty please?”
“Um… okay. Yeah.”
Ridley took the Barbie blouse from her sister and tucked it into the pocket of her navy jacket. “What do you think?”
“It’s purr-fect!” Harmony said, clapping. She’d been angling to get a kitten lately, so her vocabulary was full of cat words.
“Thanks.” Ridley hugged her little sister. “See you later, alligator.”
“In a while, cat-o-dile!” Harmony turned to their mother. “Barbie wants to have a tea party!”
“Well, then, let’s have a tea party, Baby Gosling!”
As Ridley walked out the front door, she heard them discussing teacakes versus tea biscuits and whether or not to invite Skipper and Chelsea and Ken.
Huh.
Life.
Ridley arrived at Sorrow Point Cemetery shortly before four o’clock. She was dressed in a gray silk blouse with pearl buttons (she’d managed to transform the Barbie item into a real item), black wool slacks, and ballet flats; she wished Harmony could see her outfit.
It was weird being here for an actual funeral versus taking a shortcut to the mall. Penelope’s gravesite was in a far corner of the cemetery next to an enormous weeping willow and a cluster of laurel bushes. (Willow and laurel were both good for headaches, Ridley thought, touching her temples.) It wasn’t too far from Daniel’s tree.
It wasn’t too far from those two gravestones, either, the ones she and Binx had seen last Wednesday with the words DEAD WITCH on them. Ridley could just make them out in the distance. The hideous graffiti was gone. Washed clean. She wondered who’d done that—city workers? Some anonymous Good Samaritan witches? (She and Binx had intended to return to the cemetery to check out who the gravestones belonged to, but then Penelope’s murder had happened.…)
The funeral service hadn’t started yet. A group of mourners formed a somber U shape around Penelope’s casket, which was white and covered with some sort of pretty nature design. Ridley noticed a bunch of teachers from the high school and a dozen or so students, too. She didn’t see Ms. O’Shea among them, though. Ms. O’Shea hadn’t been at school for the last couple of days; Mr. Eggars, the new substitute (was there a word for a substitute’s substitute?), said she’d been called out of town for a family emergency. Ridley wished they had her contact info; there was so much going on, and they could really use her advice and assistance. Maybe Binx should hack into wherever and find her phone number? Although maybe Ms. O’Shea was huddling in secret with her coven up north, strategizing about how to deal with the new, witch-killing witch in town?
Ridley found a spot near the back, away from the others, and stood there, not knowing quite what to do. She noticed a well-dressed man and woman behind a nearby tree. The woman was crying quietly into a white linen handkerchief. The man had his arms around her and was whispering in her ear. Ridley recognized them from last night, driving away in the silver Volvo. Penelope’s parents. Her heart ached at the sight of them. At Daniel’s funeral, Momma had been inconsolable. Daddy, who was usually so tough and stoic, had broken down halfway through his eulogy speech, and Ridley had been forced to finish it for him.
Penelope’s mother glanced up at Ridley. She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief and walked over to her, followed by her husband.
“Thank you so much for coming. I’m Elena Guzman, Penny’s mother. This is my husband, Edwin Hart.”
Mr. Hart shook Ridley’s hand. “Are you one of her friends from school?”
“Yes. I’m Ridley. Ridley Stone. I’m so, so sorry about Penelope. I… she was really nice.”
“If only she’d confided in us, we could have helped her. We could have told her we loved her no matter what,” Ms. Guzman said in a choked-up voice.
“Did you know she was a witch, Ridley? Did any of her friends?” Mr. Hart asked.
Ridley wished she didn’t have to lie to Penelope’s parents. “Well, she was new to our school, and we didn’t know her that well,” she managed.
“We should have spent more time with her; we would have noticed the signs. But we were both so busy,” Ms. Guzman murmured.
Mr. Hart’s eyes—they were the same warm shade of brown as Penelope’s—filled with tears. “She had her YouTube and her tennis and all her other interests, though. She seemed so happy, so excited about her future.”
She was happy, Ridley wanted to say. She was excited about her future. And she didn’t take her own life. Her life was taken from her. “I’m so sorry,” she said instead, meaning it.
Penelope’s parents thanked her again for being there, then moved on to greet other newcomers, including Principal Sparkleman and Mrs. Feathers from school.
Ridley had mixed feelings about Mrs. Feathers. She’d come up to Ridley in the hallway yesterday and said that her “door was always open” if she wanted to talk. She’d seemed nice enough, although Ridley had picked up a strange vibe from her. An intense watchfulness under the kind, helpful social-worker exterior. Was there a chance
