The Witch Who Heard the Music
Pixie Point Bay Book 7
Emma Belmont
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Sneak Peek
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Copyright
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1
If Maris Seaver hadn’t known she was standing in the Towne Plaza of Pixie Point Bay, she’d never have recognized it. The normally tranquil scene and a throwback to a bygone era had transformed into a bustling maelstrom of activity. Excitement buzzed in the air like cicadas in summer.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said a familiar voice.
Maris had parked in front of the Main Street Market, but it wasn’t Howard that greeted her. It was Helen Tellur, a member of the crochet club, By Hook or Crook. It was located next to the general store and looked out on the Towne Plaza—and its members had to be thrilled. There was no end to the action or people that the busiest busy-bodies in the world could watch. Helen’s horn-rimmed glasses framed dark blue eyes that seemed to dance with delight.
Maris smiled at the tall, elderly woman. “It’s a bit on the crazy side.”
Helen grinned as she nodded. “Have you ever been to one of these?”
Maris shook her head. “It was after my time.” She glanced at the poster in the window of the market, the same one she had on display at the B&B. “The Fifth Annual Blues on the Bay Music Festival.” Though she’d visited her aunt as a youngster, her adult work had taken her far away. It’d been years since she’d been back. She regarded Helen. “Are you a blues fan?”
“Oh, definitely,” Helen said. As the elderly woman gazed at the plaza, Maris noted the large canvas tote bag she carried. Her latest doily projects were likely inside. “I mean, even if you weren’t, how could you not like this?” Helen peered at her. “Are you?”
Maris smirked a little. “Only by association. Aunt Glenda was the real fan.”
In the parlor at the B&B, an old Victrola was accompanied by Glenda’s vast collection of blues albums. Her aunt had played them for her while they’d amused themselves with board and card games or dabbled with the Ouija board.
“Your aunt was instrumental in getting the festival started,” Helen said.
Maris stared at her. “I didn’t know that.”
She turned back to the plaza, where a sound system was being installed in the red Oriental gazebo, and a second stage was being built at the far end. Large tents sheltered booths where food and drinks would be sold, as well as t-shirts, trinkets, and music. There were even tables where the musicians would sign autographs. It was a massive undertaking—one for which she had a new appreciation.
Helen nodded her gray head. “Yes, she was quite the driving force, your aunt.”
Maris had to smile at the thought. “She was that.” It was actually a trait they shared.
Helen glanced at the crochet club. “Millicent is on the festival committee, so naturally we’ve been privy to some of the goings on.” When she turned her gaze back to Maris, she arched her eyebrows. “Perhaps next year we can look to the younger generation for some organizational help. Maybe even, shall we say, carry on a family tradition.”
Maris knew she was being buttonholed, but the fact that Glenda had been involved with the start of the festival really did put it in a new light. Of course she had her hands full at the B&B during the festivities, but perhaps in the weeks leading up to it, she could find time to help.
“Who is the committee head?” Maris inquired.
Helen grinned at her. “A new one is elected every year. You just have to put your hat in the ring. This year it was Aurora Puddlefoot.” She nodded to herself. “Marvelous with management.”
Maris thought back to visiting the proprietor of the largest store on the plaza. Three stories tall, with everything from souvenirs to clothing and furniture, Magical Finds had at least a dozen employees.
“Yes,” Maris said, “I could see that.”
“Well,” the older woman said, “I won’t delay you any longer.” She turned to go, but paused. “Unless, of course, you were stopping in for some crocheting.”
“Unfortunately not,” Maris said. She indicated the market as she repositioned the purse on her shoulder. “I’ve got a bit of shopping to do.”
“Yes,” Helen said, nodding. “I’m sure we’re all quite busy right now.” A smile lit up her face. “Good day to you.”
“Have a good one,” Maris replied.
The market was busier than usual too. Shoppers, mostly tourists, were everywhere. As she took her cart up and down the aisles, Maris even noticed that Howard had hired on some new help. Young people were busily stocking shelves and answering questions from the customers. But luckily, by the time she was finished gathering everything that the B&B needed, the front counter was empty and the retired physics professor and owner of the market waved her over.
“Good morning, Maris,” he said, his smile lifting his white mustache and deepening the crow’s feet at the corners of his dark eyes. Though he still bore an uncanny resemblance to Einstein, his hair was neatly brushed today and his mustache combed and trimmed.
“Good morning, Howard,” she said, as she unloaded the boxed goods first. “I’ve never seen the store so busy.”
“I have,” he said, quickly ringing up the goods. He gave her a wink. “This time last year.”
Maris chuckled. “Well, I can see that you’re prepared.” One of the new employees rolled a bucket and mop past them. “The extra help is a great idea.”
As Howard bagged the groceries, he said, “It’s a necessity.” He indicated her basket as she unloaded the vegetables. “The B&B must be full.”
“Absolutely,” she said. “This week’s been booked for months. At first I had
