Page 28 of The Messengers of Magic
Chapter Twenty
T hat night, after filling their bellies to the point of almost throwing up from all the sweets, Adelaide bid Carolyn a good night and stepped outside.
The cold wrapped around her like a shadow, each breath a visible puff in the air.
Shivering, she hugged her arms tight, her summer jacket no match for the creeping autumn chill.
The garage light flickered above the driveway, casting long, eerie shadows.
Tomorrow, she decided, she’d head back to the little charity shop she’d noticed when she arrived in town, and get some warmer clothes.
As she rounded the back of the house, a beam of golden light spilled across the path from the guest room window above. Then, in a blink, it vanished, as if something had passed in front of it. She looked up quickly, heart ticking faster, but the glow returned, steady and undisturbed.
That was the locked room. The same one she’d seen a shadow slip beneath the door just days ago. Someone had just looked out the window, she was sure of it.
Maybe Carolyn had gone up there for something. Maybe. But the unease stuck like a burr, something about that room just felt off.
There was something up there, she could feel it.
She flipped on her torch and continued down the grassy path to the cabin.
She wasn’t fond of the dark, especially being outside in it.
Every rustle of wind, every owl call set her nerves skittering.
She quickened her pace, the darkness pressing closer, an unwelcome companion on her walk.
As the path narrowed, tall grasses whispered on either side, shrubs loomed high, their tangled silhouettes swaying in the cold wind.
She could barely see over them, and something childish and primal kicked in.
She ran. Her shoes pounded against the earth, stomach rolling from too much sugar and the sprint.
Ahead, the cabin’s porch light blinked like a beacon, guiding her through the darkness and back to safety.
She doubled over when she reached the porch, pulling in long breaths.
The stitch in her side throbbed, and she felt like she might throw up.
After catching her breath, she fumbled the key into the lock, shoved the door open, and quickly secured it behind her.
The torch’s beam swept the room until it landed on the hideous elephant lamp.
She grimaced but flicked it on, grateful for its warm, comforting light.
The eerie feeling clung to her, but only for a moment; the cabin, cozy and chaotic, offered a strange new comfort that set her nerves at ease. It was nothing like the pristine life she’d curated with Jeff. And maybe that was the best part.
Why was it that Jeff was still occupying her thoughts?
She needed to stop thinking about him every time her mind stilled.
The song “Little Lies” by Fleetwood Mac popped into her head, and she frowned.
He was a complete ass, why should she even be thinking about whether or not he would have liked how she designed the cabin.
God, he would have hated this place. The mismatched furniture.
The clashing patterns. The joyful messiness of it all.
But that thought made her smile. Stevie Nicks would have loved it, and from now on, Stevie was her new gold standard.
She wrapped herself in a knit blanket. It was growing colder with the autumn nights quickly approaching, and she didn’t have wood yet for fires. That would be something else she would need to remedy soon.
She settled into bed, her gaze drifting to the abstract painting on the mantel, still trying to place the scene. Eventually, her eyes fluttered shut, and the image of the field followed her into sleep.
The next morning, Adelaide ventured back into town.
She had two goals: buy a proper sweater and indulge in another of the delicious scones from the Marbled Clover Bakery.
The cobbled streets were still damp from the overnight mist as she made her way toward the road that hugged the edge of the loch.
The charity shop came into view, nestled between a post office and an antiques store. A small hand-painted sign read, The Common Blue Second Hand Goods. Odd name, given the shop’s lavender door and purple trim, but who was she to judge?
A bell jingled as she stepped inside.
“Good mornin’,” called a young woman from behind a mountain of dishes. She was elbow-deep in a battle to tame the shelves. Adelaide smiled and headed through a crooked doorway marked Clothing .
The room smelled like stale cigarette smoke and old lady perfume, making her stomach turn. Overwhelmed by the stench, she almost left until something caught her eye. Fringe!
Peeking out from behind a trench coat, she saw the edge of a caramel suede sleeve.
Her breath hitched. She pushed the other coats aside, uncovering a vintage Schott NYC jacket with full fringe sleeves.
Adelaide had wanted one since she was a teenager but never had the money.
She let out a small squeal as she took the jacket off the hook and slipped it on.
Perfect fit. She twirled in place, arms lifted, smiling as the fringe swung in the breeze.
“Class, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind her.
Adelaide spun around. The shop girl stood there, smiling like she meant it, her eyes flicking from the jacket to Adelaide’s face.
“It is,” Adelaide replied, still beaming.
“I almost kept that one for myself, but my boyfriend would kill me if I brought another jacket home from this place.” She laughed.
“Yeah, getting first dibs on everything is probably a blessing and a curse.”
“Are you new in town?” the woman asked as she straightened out a row of trousers that were about to topple over.
“Just here for a visit with my aunt. I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Seems like everyone I’ve met already knows me.”
“Yeah, small town, most of these guys have nothing better to do than gossip about one another. I’m Camie, by the way.” She stuck out her hand.
Adelaide took it. “Adelaide.”
“So, were you looking for a jacket or did it just catch your eye?” Camie asked.
“I was actually hunting for warmer clothes. I didn’t really pack for the cold, and autumn seems to be moving in quickly up here.”
“Yeah, last few years the summers have been short. Looking like this one is shaping up to be the same. If you need some cozy stuff, come over here.” Camie led her across the room and pointed at a cubby stuffed with thick woollen sweaters.
“Perfect,” Adelaide said, crouching to look through the pile.
“I’ll be at the till. If you need anything, just shout,” Camie told her.
Adelaide eased the jacket off her shoulders and glanced at the tag.
A tiny pang tugged at her chest as she hung it back on the hook.
As much as she loved it, now wasn’t the time for splurges and fringed sleeves.
She was too old to pull those off. Wasn’t she?
Instead, she dug into the sweater pile. Colors spilled out like autumn leaves.
Her hands landed on a classic Irish cream cable knit and a gray knit cardigan, clearly a man’s, but its oversized warmth spoke of quiet, cozy mornings.
She set them aside and found a few long-sleeved shirts, two pairs of jeans, and carried the modest haul back to the front to pay.
Camie stood behind a small makeshift counter, an old kitchen table polished to a sheen. Adelaide set her things on top.
“Nice choices,” Camie said, neatly folding each item and placing them in a used Tesco bag. Her hands paused at the bottom of the stack. “Where’s the jacket?”
Adelaide hesitated. “It’s kind of young for me,” she said, looking back toward the clothing room.
Camie’s eyes widened, clearly scandalized. “Are you kidding me? You’re not an old lady. That jacket looked amazing on you. Go grab it. That’s an order!”
A smile broke across Adelaide’s face as she turned and headed back. When she returned, Camie was tucking a small slip of paper into the bag.
“Okay, ring this up too,” Adelaide said, handing the jacket over.
Camie slipped it into the bag. “The jacket’s free of charge. A little welcome-to the-neighborhood gift from me to you. The rest is ten pounds.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Unlikely. Seeing as I own the place,” Camie remarked, flashing a grin.
Adelaide smiled back. She hadn’t been expecting that. “Camie, thank you so much.”
“Us girls need to have each other’s backs. And if that means keeping yours covered in a bloody brilliant suede jacket, I’m happy to do my part,” she declared, handing over the bag.
Adelaide took it, smiling warmly. “Thanks again.”
“Stop in and see me again. Maybe we can grab a pint?”
“That would be great.”
As Adelaide exited the shop, she paused to look back. Camie was running the place solo and pulling it off with style. Her thoughts drifted to the bookshop and Susan. Hadn’t Susan mentioned that the clerk’s office was on this very street?
Adelaide began walking, scanning the row of stone buildings, looking at the hanging signs, until at the far end, she could make out a small wooden sign: Town Clerk .
Her pulse began to climb. She shouldn’t. She should turn around. Go back to the apothecary. Let it go. But her feet were already moving. Before she knew it, she was standing at the clerk’s door and stepped inside.
“Adelaide, nice to see you,” Susan greeted, looking up from her desk, as she entered. “I was wondering if you were going to come and see me.”
Adelaide smiled and shut the door behind her.
“Come,” Susan said, pointing to the faded orange chair across from her desk.
The office was plain and functional, just two desks, a row of filing cabinets, and overhead fluorescent lights that cast a sterile blue-white wash over the space. The smell of old paper and burnt coffee lingered in the air.
Adelaide sat, placing her bag of clothing on the floor, nerves fraying at the edges.
“I see you’ve been to the Common Blue. Nice little place, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Adelaide said, her mouth suddenly dry. What was she doing here? She should probably just say hello. Make some small talk and leave. But instead, the words tumbled out.
“I was wondering how much the town was selling that old bookshop for?” She couldn’t believe she’d blurted that out; it was taking all her willpower not to bring her hand to her face and bite her nail as the nerves threatened to bubble over.
“I was hoping that’s why you came,” Susan told her. She opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. “If you turn it back into a bookshop, the town is willing to sell it for twenty-three thousand pounds. If not, the price goes up to ninety-five thousand.”
“What? Why so cheap?” Adelaide asked.
Susan leaned back in her chair. “So, it’s always been a bit of a mystery, that place.
Some say it’s haunted, others say cursed, but really, it just has a strange history, what with the owner vanishing like he did.
You know how stories grow legs around here.
That’s what happened, and now no one local wants it.
But we don’t want to see it torn down and turned into flats either.
So we’re offering a deal to whoever takes it on and turns it back into a bookshop that brings folks into town. ”
“Well, I ain’t afraid of no ghost,” Adelaide said.
“Loved that film.” Susan laughed.
“But seriously, if I were to buy it and turn it back into a bookshop, it would only cost me twenty-three thousand pounds?”
“Yes, but are you sure this is something you want to take on? Do you have any business experience?”
Adelaide sat up straighter. “I actually work at the Ladd Library in Glastonbury.”
“Well, isn’t that mint! I think this just might be a perfect fit if you can get the finances.”
Adelaide sat there. She had them. She’d transferred her inheritance into her personal account the day she left Glastonbury.
Before Jeff could get his hands on it. She could pay in full.
No loans. No strings. Who cared if there were ghosts?
She’d take a haunted bookshop over a haunted marriage any day.
“I want it,” she said before she could talk herself out of it.
Susan’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Adelaide’s heart was racing now, but she didn’t flinch. Jeff had walked out and left her in the ruins of a life they’d never really built together. But this, this was hers to claim. And she didn’t need anyone’s permission. No more what-ifs. No more waiting. This was her moment.
Her dream.
She would no longer be the one left behind.