“She died after one tequila shot,” Kate said, “but the cause of death was a heart attack, not alcohol poisoning.”
“I figured as much,” Mr. Francis said. “Her liver was made of titanium. She could drink me under the table any night of the week—and sometimes did.”
Libbie stared into the casket, looking for any sign of Inga’s witchiness. Was there a tattoo? Any mark that helped one witch recognize another? She reached forward to shift a wayward strand of white hair from Inga’s forehead. If nothing else, her friend looked peaceful.
The women said their goodbyes and moved forward to allow other mourners to pay their respects. Libbie noticed Ethan Townsend further back in the line. Their eyes met, and she glanced away quickly, surprised by the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the sight of him. She was relieved when Kate’s husband came over to provide a welcome distraction. Ethan Townsend might be a silver fox, but Lucas Golden was the physical embodiment of the word ‘hunk.’ Libbie had approved of him from the moment Kate had introduced him as her boyfriend eighteen years ago, and not just because of his good looks. Lucas had a kind heart and a generous nature. He was the ideal companion for Kate.
Lucas kissed his wife’s cheek before turning to greet the other women. “No Chris?” he asked, scanning the crowd.
“He couldn’t make it,” she lied. The truth was, he didn’t offer to accompany her. Didn’t even inquire after the details. “The kids and I discussed whether they should come, but I decided it would be too much for Courtney. You know how she is. It’d be nightmares for weeks.”
“Yeah, same.” Lucas raked a hand through his dark blond hair. “Ours would run riot in here and destroy the place anyway.”
“Lucas,” Kate said in mock outrage. She gave his arm a playful swat. “Our children would never misbehave at a funeral.”
“Hey, if there’s one funeral where misbehaving would be acceptable, it’s this one,” Julie said. “Inga would love to know that kids were running amok.”
Lucas rubbed his wife’s back. “Are you lingering or heading home?”
“We need to stop by Inga’s house after this,” Kate said. “Which reminds me.” Her gaze darted to the other women before returning to her husband. “We now own a cat.”
His brow creased. “A cat? How did that happen?” He cocked an eyebrow at Rebecca. “Was this your doing?”
“Not me this time.” Rebecca frequently tried to persuade them each to adopt an animal from the shelter, especially when there was one she deemed ‘really special,’ which was basically all of them.
“Cat-Cat was one of Inga’s, and now she’s ours.” Kate cupped his rugged jaw and drew him in for a kiss. “The kids will be thrilled.”
“I’m sure, but I know how you feel about pets,” Lucas said.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Kate said with a tight smile.
Libbie had been on the receiving end of that smile often enough to recognize it as the end of the discussion. “I can drive us all to Inga’s if you want to ride over together,” she said.
“Sounds good to me,” Julie said, and the others agreed.
They left Needham’s, and Libbie took a moment to appreciate the sunshine before ducking behind the wheel of her compact SUV.
Julie slid into the seat behind her. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t want a funeral. I’d prefer a wake.”
Kate took her place in the passenger seat beside Libbie. “I’m surprised Inga didn’t request a wake. I could see a big party with body shots off the casket.”
“That can be yours,” Rebecca said from her place beside Julie.
Kate laughed. “Go for it. Be sure to record it for my YouTube channel. My subscribers will go nuts.”
Libbie was quiet as she drove along the curved mountain roads that led to Inga’s house.
“Are you going to keep Cat-Cat?” Rebecca asked.
Kate turned to look at her. “Why are you only asking me?”
“Because I know how you feel about pets,” Rebecca said.
“I can’t give up Inga’s cat. If she wanted me to have Cat-Cat, then I will.” Kate pushed open the door the moment the car came to a stop.
“She’s going to need help with that,” Julie whispered.
“Who are you kidding?” Rebecca shot back. “She’s Kate Golden. She doesn’t need help with anything.”
By the time they caught up to their friend, she’d already unlocked the front door and was standing in the foyer. Libbie caught her best friend’s mournful expression as she surveyed the compact space. Just as quickly, Kate’s face returned to its usual state.
“We should’ve brought boxes,” Rebecca said. “We’ll have a lot to carry.”
“Inga has boxes in the garage,” Libbie said. She’d noticed them two Fridays ago when she’d gone to retrieve another case of wine for the bar.
“If there aren’t enough, I have plenty I can bring over,” Julie said. “I even have a few garment boxes if Bonnie needs them, or whoever’s packing up the house. Greg didn’t end up having nearly as many clothes as I thought.” She laughed. “And I’d always accused him of being a clothes horse. Joke was on me.”
One of the cats came tearing down the staircase meowing. “Someone’s hungry,” Libbie said.
“More like someone’s litter box needs to be cleaned,” Rebecca said. “I’ll go check it out.”
“Be quick,” Kate urged. “I want to open this letter and see whether we need to have a seance or something.”
“That’s a psychic,” Libbie said.
Kate shrugged. “Can’t witches be psychic?” Her face brightened. “Hey, maybe that’s one of the assets.”
Libbie shuddered. “No thanks. I don’t want to be psychic. I have enough issues with my own thoughts without including anyone else’s.”
They gathered around the coffee table where Kate placed both the jar and the letter.
“Do you think we need the journals?” Libbie asked.
Kate shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out in a minute.”
Rebecca hurried to join them, trailed by all four cats. Libbie didn’t know whether the cats were actually related to each other, but they bore similar markings of brown, black, and white.
Rebecca knelt beside the table. Her knees had barely touched the floor when Kate ripped open the envelope. Libbie leaned forward expectantly.
“Open the jar?” Kate said, frowning.
“That’s it?” Rebecca asked. “The letter tells us to open the jar?”
Kate flipped the letter around so the other women could read it. “Open the jar and receive your gifts.”
“No explanation? Nothing?” Libbie settled back on her calves, feeling disappointed. She’d hoped for more information from Inga. Then again, the older woman hadn’t told them she was a witch when she was alive. Why would she bother now?
Kate blew out a breath. “Here goes nothing. Literally.” She twisted the lid off the jar, and a gust of wind rushed through the room, sweeping the letter off the coffee table and onto the floor. A pungent smell filled the air.