“Those were vampires,” Julie whispered. “That sparkled.”
Ethan smiled. “I’ll be honest, this was all news to me when I first learned of it, but the due diligence has been done, and it’s all very real.”
The women fell silent as they digested the news. Libbie realized she was digging her fingernails into her palm and forced herself to relax.
“What does this mean?” Kate asked. “Inga ran around with sage and performed bonfire rituals in the woods during a blue moon?”
Ethan shook his head. “I can’t say with certainty, but I can see Inga doing that and more.”
“Probably naked too,” Julie added.
“Sounds about right,” Rebecca said.
Everyone laughed, which helped ease the tension in the room.
“How is Inga’s witch status relevant to us?” Kate asked. “If she wanted us to know, why didn’t she tell us?”
“That I can’t answer.” Ethan threaded his fingers on the desk, and Libbie noticed that he wasn’t wearing a ring. She sucked in a breath, horrified that she’d notice such a thing, not only because of Chris but because they were here for such a somber reason.
“Are you okay?” Julie asked.
Libbie nodded. “Sorry, I’m just feeling stressed.”
Kate reached over and squeezed her hand. “We all are. It’s a tough day.”
Libbie knew that Kate was being kind. Her friend never seemed to get anxious or worked up about anything. Even her anger had a precision about it, the way a paring knife deveins a shrimp. Libbie’s emotions were more of the tangled-ball-of-yarn variety, complete with frayed edges and loose threads.
“I’ll give you the gist of what I know,” Ethan began. “Witches aren’t born—they’re created. There are no familial covens. No genetics involved.”
Libbie clasped her hands in her lap, thinking.
“Not born? Is this like a ‘which came first, the chicken or egg thing?’” Julie asked.
Ethan continued without answering. “Witches are made from pieces of other witches, their spirits passed from one generation to the next to form a true sisterhood.” He grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t had to give this speech before, and I feel like I’m mansplaining sisterhood to four women. I should have practiced out loud to the bathroom mirror.”
Libbie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She knew that feeling all too well.
“So you’re saying Inga wasn’t born a witch, but became one later?” Rebecca asked.
“That’s my understanding. At some point in Inga’s life, she crossed paths with a witch who decided Inga was worthy of receiving her assets someday.” He held out his hands. “And, now, Inga is sharing hers with you.”
“Is it tax deductible?” Kate asked. “Because we’re really close to the next income threshold…”
Ethan chuckled. “It’s not that kind of gift, Mrs. Golden. You won’t claim it on your tax returns.”
“But you said she was dividing her assets among us,” Kate said.
Rebecca touched Kate’s arm. “Let him finish, Kate. Then we’ll ask questions.”
“I think you could’ve had a career as a lawyer,” Ethan said, offering Kate an easygoing smile.
“As a matter of fact, I took the LSATs,” Kate said. “I decided it wasn’t the kind of life I wanted, to be chained to a desk all day.” She paused. “No offense.”
“None taken. We’re a despised group, even without the corporate prisoner references.” He referred to the document. “As you know, Inga had four cats. In her will, she’s left one to each of you. Eliza to Elizabeth Stark. Cat-Cat to Katherine Golden. Angelica to Rebecca Angelos, and Peggy to Julie Duncan.”
Julie dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Oh, wow. She left Aunt Peggy to me?”
Libbie looked at her sideways. “You mean Peggy?”
Julie frowned. “I thought she was called Aunt Peggy.”
The other women laughed. “That’s only because she’s always named last in the sentence,” Kate said. “And Peggy.”
“She also left you this.” Ethan reached into a desk drawer and produced a glass jar with a fabric-covered lid. It reminded Libbie of jam jars in the country store, except the fabric was dark blue and covered with white stars.
Kate leaned forward and accepted the jar. “An empty jar?”
“She left a note with it.” He handed over a sealed envelope, which Kate also accepted on behalf of the group.
“I hope it explains what she wants us to do with it,” Kate said.
“Maybe we’re supposed to grow a witchy plant in it or something,” Libbie suggested. “Then each take turns caring for it.”
“That rules me out,” Julie said with a laugh. “I’ll murder it overnight.”
“What if it’s for her ashes?” Libbie asked. They knew that Inga wanted to be cremated and her ashes scattered in the forest not far from the lake. It was something she’d mentioned multiple times over the years.
“Why don’t we go back to my place and read the letter together before the funeral?” Kate asked.
The lawyer held up a finger. “Actually, she left you the key to her house as well. Bonnie Shellstrop is going to handle the sale, but Inga also wanted you to have the contents of her liquor cabinet before that happens.”
Kate laughed. “She knew us well.”
“You can leave the key in the drop box after you’ve finished,” he said. “It should already be there.”
Rebecca whistled. “Bonnie moves fast.”
“No kidding. Have you ever seen her in a bar full of eligible men?” Julie said. “She’s like the Road Runner in a tight skirt.”
Kate hugged the jar to her chest. “I guess we should head over there now before the funeral starts.”
“The cats will need to be fed and the litter box cleaned,” Rebecca said.
“I’ll be asking for your help later, Rebecca,” Kate said. “I don’t know the first thing about owning a cat.”
Libbie had never owned a cat before, either, only a dog. She felt her anxiety level rising at the thought of Hercules and Eliza living under the same roof. What if he hurt the cat by accident? He was a large, energetic dog. He could injure the cat just trying to play with her.
“So Inga has left us this jar with a note, a cat each, and the contents of her liquor cabinet, and these somehow qualify as a witch’s assets,” Kate said. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“Oh, I nearly forgot.” He reached into another drawer and produced a stack of four books. “There’s one for each of you.” He dispensed one to each of them.
Julie was the first to flip hers open. “A blank book?” she asked.
“I think it’s meant to be a journal,” Libbie said. Courtney had an entire collection of half-empty journals with a variety of adorable covers. This journal, however, was exceptionally plain, with a simple black leather cover and no lettering.
“I think so, too,” Kate said. “I suggest journals for clients all the time. Helps to focus your thoughts and provides an outlet for feelings.”