Page 9

I nodded, then tried to focus on making tea, but my eyes kept sliding back to the gnome on the counter. I checked the windowsill again, half-expecting the rings to have magically reappeared, but no luck.

Thea followed my gaze, then said, “Did you lose something?”

I sighed, defeated. “My wedding rings. I took them off to clean last night, and now they’re gone.”

Thea got up and walked over to the windowsill. She peered at the empty dish, then at the gnome. “You’re certain you put them here?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I remember it. They were right there.”

Thea was quiet for a moment, then reached out and picked up the gnome. She inspected it carefully, then turned to me. “When I was a little girl, my grandmother told me that gnomes sometimes steal shiny things. To add to their treasure hoards.”

I laughed, mostly out of relief that I wasn’t the only one who found this all a little bizarre. “So, you think the gnome took them?”

She shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

That was an understatement in my world. The kettle whistled and I poured hot water into two mugs.

Thea set the gnome back on the counter, then walked over to the sugar bowl, which she opened with a delicate twist. I handed her one of the mugs and a spoon.

She started to ladle a dash of sugar into the cup, when she paused, frowning into the sugar bowl.

Then very carefully she fished around inside the porcelain container.

A moment later, she held up the spoon. My rings sat in the center of the utensil.

She wiped them off on a napkin and handed them over. “Sugar helps keep the shine,” she said, completely deadpan.

I slipped the rings back onto my finger, the metal warm and reassuring against my skin. “Thank you. I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Thea finished preparing her tea—unfazed by my rings being in the sugar, then said, “I”ve done crazier things.”

I appreciated her playing off the situation.

She sipped her tea, then added, “If you’d like, I can take the gnome home with me. Or we can move it outside. Some say it’s bad luck to keep a gnome indoors.”

I looked at the figurine, then at her. “Let’s put it on the porch. Maybe it’ll scare off any other weird magic.”

Thea nodded, her face unreadable. “I think that’s wise.”

Together, we carried the gnome outside and set it on the porch rail, where it could stare balefully at the driveway and whatever else lurked in the bayou beyond.

I closed the door and tried to shake off the sense of being watched, but it lingered, like the memory of a dream you can’t quite remember.

I told myself it was just the baby, the stress, the coming storm of family and food and emotion.

But as I poured myself another cup of tea, I noticed the faintest trace of sugar dust on the rim of the wedding ring, sparkling in the light.

I washed my hands. I must have done that. Or maybe Hugo or Lisette did it as a joke. Or even Jocko could be the culprit. A drunken joke or something. Any of those explanations made a lot more sense than a prankster gnome.

The doorbell rang for the first time at precisely 10:30, exactly as scheduled on my color-coded digital family calendar.

My eldest sister, Violet, never deviated from a plan unless forced at gunpoint, and even then, she’d probably negotiate a five-minute grace period.

Her “arriving now” text landed a full sixty seconds before the bell even rang.

“Hey,” Violet said, brushing a kiss across my cheek. “You look amazing. Is that a new dress?”

I gave her a twirl, risking that the fringe might knock over the umbrella stand. “It’s vintage. Goth-lite for Sunday brunch.”

“I love it. Is Etienne back yet?”

“Nope. Still out with the kids.”

Tristan greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek.

She touched her son’s cheek, a constant look of mild concern in her eyes. “How are you both?”

Tristan gave her a reassuring smile, which almost made me feel bad. The poor guy had been possessed by a demon only six months ago, courtesy of Etienne’s deranged ex-wife, and the aftershocks lingered. “Can I get you some coffee or tea?”

“I can’t get it,” Tristan told her, moving to pour two cups of coffee.

“Mom’s not here yet?” Violet asked, accepting the coffee from her husband.

“She’ll be fashionably late. Or she is here and in my garden, inspecting my handiwork.”

My mother was a green witch who took her calling very seriously. She couldn’t pass a garden without stopping to take a look.

Violet snorted.

Another knock sounded at the front door, louder this time, as though the visitor had no fear of waking the dead. Iris’s voice followed, muffled but unmistakable: “I brought mimosas and also something that’s not a mimosa, but is just as dangerous!”

I met her at the door. My second sister was a whirl of lemon-yellow sundress, messy curls, and an aura of barely-suppressed chaos.

She carried a carton of eggs under one arm and a suspiciously heavy brown paper bag under the other.

Behind her came Marcel, Etienne’s brother, looking as though he’d just rolled out of bed but in a way that still managed to be absurdly attractive.

He and Iris had been together less than a year, and sometimes I still couldn’t believe the universe had brought them together.

They seemed like an unlikely couple, but they definitely suited each other.

“Hey,,” Iris said, hugging me so tightly she nearly knocked the air from my lungs. “Do you want orange juice or a hair of the dog?”

I hugged her back, then did a double take. “What happened to your wrist?”

Iris shrugged. “I was doing a spell and got bitten by a frog. But you should see the frog.”

“Don’t let her kid you, Marcel said, carrying several bottles of champagne. He gave me a sly smile. “The frog got away. Good morning, Mally.”

Iris nudged him with a shoulder, then assured me, “Only because I let him.”

I smiled back. “Come in. Make yourself at home.”

I led them to the kitchen, where the air was already perfumed with coffee and the low hum of conversation.

I was halfway through making more drinks when Iris gasped and pointed at the window above the sink. “Oh my god, how many garden gnomes do you have out there?”

I blinked. “Just the one, I think.” I peered out the window and froze.

Outside, on the side lawn, at least a dozen garden gnomes lined the edge of the bayou’s weedy shoreline like tiny, pointy-hatted sentries.

Each one was different: one lounged on a mushroom, another held a lantern, a third was mid-fishing with a line trailing into the birdbath.

A few of them had expressions that could charitably be called “mischievous.” One even seemed to be flipping the bird, which was a touch I actually appreciated.

I leaned over the counter to get a better look, certain I hadn’t lost my mind. “I swear those were not there last night.”

Iris giggled. “Did you get gnome-bombed? You know, like when people flock your yard with plastic flamingos, but with gnomes?”

Violet came over and looked. “That’s a lot of gnomes.”

I turned to Thea. “Were there gnomes when you got here?”

I already knew the answer.

She considered. “I only saw the one that we put on the porch. Perhaps they…multiplied?”

“Not funny,” I said, but then started laughing. It was either that or scream.

Tristan, ever the polite guest, offered, “Maybe it’s a local custom? Good luck for new beginnings?”

I let the suggestion hang in the air, not wanting to be rude. I wiped my hands on my dress, decided to face the situation head-on, and slipped out the front door.

The heat hit me first—already steamy at eleven in the morning. The grass was soft, almost spongy, beneath my bare feet. The gnomes were arranged in two neat rows, facing each other, as though they were about to march in a tiny, terracotta parade.

I stooped and picked up one. It had a sunflower hat and a gap-toothed grin.

I inspected it, looking for a tag or note or some clue, but found nothing.

There were faint scratches on the base, as though it had lived outdoors for years.

I set it back down and surveyed the lineup.

There were more gnomes by the mailbox. A few clustered around the roots of a big cypress tree.

Another peered out from behind the azaleas with what I could only describe as malice.

I felt the prickling on my skin again—the sensation of being observed. I spun, expecting to see a neighbor or, god forbid, the “Gnome Bomber” in the act, but the lawn was empty. Even the air felt hushed, as though the gnomes themselves were holding their breath.

The driveway gravel crunched behind me. Etienne was back, accompanied by Hugo and Lisette, each balancing boxes of pastry like precious cargo. Guy, the youngest Dubois brother, followed with a tray of deviled eggs and the demeanor of someone who considered pranks to be a form of high art.

“Wow,” Guy said, whistling as he eyed the gnomes. “I didn’t know you had a thing for lawn ornaments, Mally.”

“I do not have a thing for lawn ornaments,” I said, a little too loudly.

Hugo set down his box and inspected the nearest gnome. “Can I have one for my room?”

“We’ll see,” I said vaguely even though I had no intention of keeping any of these creepy things.

Lisette looked at the lineup and wrinkled her nose. “Some of them are staring at each other.”

Etienne’s brow furrowed as he took in the scene. “This is new,” he said, clearly confused too. He turned to me. “Did you order these?”

“No,” I replied. “They just… showed up.”

Guy picked up a particularly lewd gnome, who was mooning the mailbox, and burst out laughing. “This one’s got some attitude. Maybe the pack sent them as a joke?”

Etienne shrugged. “Possible.”

I looked at him, searching for reassurance, but he just looked bemused. “Should we move them?” I asked.

He considered. “Let’s leave them for now. Maybe someone will come claim them after the party. If not, we can compost them.”

Guy howled. “You’re going to turn the gnomes into mulch? That’s cold, even for you.”

“They’re not real,” Etienne said. “Besides, I’m not a fan.”

“I agree,” I said. “I just find them…unsettling.”

Hugo tugged at my hand. “They’re funny, though. Can I hide one in the guest bathroom?”

I sighed. “Just don’t let it fall in the toilet.”

He grinned, which was always dangerous. “No promises.”

I gathered up the family, steered everyone inside, and tried to refocus on the impending brunch and our announcement. I couldn’t believe our big news was being upstaged by lawn ornaments.

Soon, my mother and JR as well as my stepbrothers, Ghede and Sam, joined the group. The house was suddenly filled with noise and warmth and the yeasty aroma of baked goods, and for a brief moment, I managed to forget about the gnomes entirely.

I was surprised to see that even Sue, my mentor, had come of the brunch. She rarely left the bayou, which was evident by the dirty housedress she wore and the bits of leaves she had clinging to her snared gray hair.

But I truly adored the gruff old lady.

“I’m glad you made it here today,” I said, offering her a cup of coffee.

She ignored it and snagged a mimosa and a beignet off the dining room table. “I wouldn’t miss it. It isn’t every day we get to celebrate a new baby.”

Her loud announcement caused the crowded and noisy dining room to fall utterly silent.

“A baby?” Thea said, her eyes wide.

“Mommy is having a baby,” Lisette said, clasping my hand, her face alight. I could tell she was thrilled and relieved the secret was out.

Suddenly the room was filled with joyous chatter. I was being repeatedly hugged as was Etienne. Thanks to Sue, it wasn’t announced exactly as Etienne and I had planned, but somehow it was still absolutely perfect.

“I’m going to be an auntie,” Iris beamed.

“And I’m going to be a grandmother again,” Thea said, her eyes wide and suspiciously watery. She hugged Etienne, then hugged me tighter. “I couldn’t be happier.”

“I’ll be happier if it’s a boy,” Hugo said flatly.

Everyone laughed.

The brunch continued, everyone happy and festive. But every now and then, when I glanced out the window, I swore the gnomes’ painted eyes followed me from room to room, as though they were waiting for something.