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Then we move on to my big announcement. “We’re making a big, fundamental change to our annual Founder’s Day festivities in October. Starting this year, Founder’s Day will become Heritage Day, a celebration of the unique backgrounds of all our wonderful residents. We’ll have dozens of floats people can claim and decorate with bright colors, flags, flowers, anything you want to incorporate to honor the history of your people or species. Or instead of using a float, you can dress in traditional clothing, use face paint, make signs, and you and your group can walk in the parade. The route through town will be the same as previous years and will end in front of Mapletown Rock on Main Street.”

Vlad, our resident cranky vampire, gets to his feet. “Does your mother know about this? Because I’ve been a resident of Mapletown for eighty-one years. I knew Martha, your grandmother. It seems disrespectful to ignore our town’s creator and what she built here. This sanctuary for us.”

I hear some emboldened words of agreement in the audience, which isn’t surprising. There are a few locals who hate change, and anytime something like this is announced, they resist it. I know how to handle it though.

“Thank you so much for that question, Vlad.” I stop myself before adding as rude and demeaning as it was. Deadpan, I say, “I haven’t spoken to my mother about this because she’s no longer the mayor. I am.” I appreciate the few supportive chuckles I hear from the seats. “We will, of course, have a Founder’s Float as part of the parade, and I will be riding on it as the mayor and representative for the Crane family. Instead of focusing on one person or family, this is really about celebrating the town as a whole and how our rich diversity is what makes Mapletown such a popular destination for monsters from all over the world.”

Vlad finally parks himself in his seat, but another resident with a matching scowl stands up a few rows behind him. “Will we still have the Founders’ Broom Race? You can’t cancel that,” she asks.

Even though Gram never rode a broom, because that’s not a thing real witches do, she came up with this activity as part of the first Founder’s Day celebration when she was on the verge of retirement. Five people are blindfolded and gallop from one point to the other with a broom between their legs. It’s a short distance through mowed grass. The idea is to run in a straight line, but with the blindfold, nobody ever does. Whoever crosses the finish line first gets a dozen free pumpkin pies from Batter Spatter Bakery.

“I would never cancel the broom race, Louise. I’m not looking to start a riot here.” Knowing this would be a point of contention, I’ve come up with a way to sweeten the deal. “In fact, the Mapletown Coven has generously offered to manage a new activity this year, called Magic Flights. Anyone can take a ride on a broom for two minutes, guided by one of our witches, as high as sixty feet. There will also be a children’s station for those under thirteen. The max flight for them will be thirty feet.”

The approving nods and delighted gasps give me the boost of energy I’ve been lacking these last few weeks.

“It’s going to be a spectacular day for adults and kids alike. Bring your families, bring your friends. Invite out-of-towners to come. It’ll certainly be one for the books!”

After a long round of applause, I get ready to wrap it up. “If there are no other questions…”

“Actually, I have one,” says Grace, my hairdresser, nail technician, and the resident always rocking the coolest hairstyles around town. “Whatever happened to those cute painted rocks we’d get on our doorsteps?” She looks around at the crowd. “You guys used to get those too, right? The detailed paintings on rocks?”

Several people say yes.

“I haven’t gotten one in over eight months, and none of the girls down at the salon have either. They used to really brighten my day.”

“Uh,” I choke out, my palms suddenly sweating. I look over at Abe, who gives me a puzzled frown. “We never found out who was responsible for those, did we?” I ask everyone, trying to hide the shakiness in my voice.

When they agree, Grace continues. “It was our little Mapletown mystery. The paper used to write about it. Remember that? They did this whole investigative series trying to find the person behind it.”

Oh, I remember. I was a nervous wreck for four months. Luckily, they never figured it out.

I plaster on a sympathetic expression. “Yeah, it’s a bummer. I haven’t gotten one either. But you know, maybe the person has been really busy or stressed out.”

“I heard Joe Maynard say he saw the person who left him one,” Susan Fletcher, bat shifter, says. “They had a mohawk and big feet.”

Despite the miles between that description and the correct one, I need to put an end to the rumor mill right now before this gets out of hand.

“Well, let’s slow it down, folks.” I laugh, trying to play it cool. “I don’t remember seeing Joe Maynard’s account in the Mapletown Gazette, and they did a pretty thorough investigation on it. Now, I know we’re all very busy people, so if there are no other questions about the town slogan or Heritage Day, I say we call it a night, yes?”

Just as I suspected, people would rather return to their lives than stick around here and gossip. It’s likely the gossip will continue but will move from here to Fast Glass Tavern. Everyone gets up to leave, and Abe and I stick around to help Quinn, the owner of the B&B, put away the folding chairs. Ziggy’s here too, but he’s focused on rolling on his back in the grass.

Those painted rocks seemed to make a big impact on the people of this town, Ziggy sends in a sardonic tone. A real pity this particular source of joy has dried up.

Yeah, I send back, wracked with guilt. Pity.

Chapter 10

Abe

Log entry #3

Day 13 of assignment

Emma is behaving in a strange manner today. I’m unsure what to make of it. I’ve caught her looking at my mouth no fewer than three times, with her pupils blown out and her heartbeat thumping loud enough for the entire town to hear. But between those moments, she is cold and distant.

There’s no feasible way for me to make sense of this behavior other than making a record of it here. Perhaps if it happens again, I can return to this document and look for patterns.

Since leaving the town meeting, her mood has shifted into something new. It’s a combination of paranoia and melancholy, and I don’t understand where it came from. Upon entering the house, she raced into the second guestroom on the first floor and closed the door behind her, shouting, “I need privacy!” before the door slammed shut.