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Jitters ‘n Bowswas one of the best coffee shops to ever grace the planet. Their coffee was incredible, their mochas and other espresso drinks were perfect, their brownies and cookies were to die for, and they were reasonably priced in an overinflated world.
We parked near the door and headed inside. While it was the most popular coffee shop around, ninety percent of their traffic was drive-thru, which meant getting a seat wasn’t all that difficult. After we pushed through the door, Bree led the way over to a corner table where a couple of blondes were waiting.
They looked like mother and daughter, I thought. Highlighted wheat-colored hair, nails a perfect nude but nicely done, their makeup was similar, and they were both wearing blue jeans and crop tops. The mother—it had to be—had some crow’s feet around her eyes, and her lips were creased as if she smoked, but otherwise, they could have been sisters.
“Darla, Georgie, hello,” Bree said. “I promised and I delivered. Meet Elphyra MacPherson. I told you about her.”
“Do you cleanse haunted houses?” Darla asked, even as Georgie peppered me with queries about poltergeists and if they could physically hurt people.
“One question at a time,” I said, holding up my hands. They both sounded frantic, but they quieted when I spoke.
“I’m sorry,” Darla said. “We’re desperate. I’m Darla Bainbridge, and this is my daughter, Georgie. We’re in trouble, and we need help.”
I settled into my seat.
“What do you want? I’ll get it,” Bree said.
“Triple tall sugar-free vanilla latte,” I said. “Iced.”
While Bree went to grab our drinks, I turned back to Darla and Georgie. “So, you suspect your house is haunted? What makes you think so?”
I was deliberately being aloof because I wanted to scare them off if they were in it for the thrills. So many people thought every creak meant an invader and every dust speck they caught on camera was a spirit orb.
To my surprise, Darla nodded. “We know it’s haunted, and whatever is there wants us to get out. We have no clue what to do about it, and we didn’t want to try anything on our own because I don’t want to make the situation worse. When Bree mentioned that you were a witch and planned on opening up a shop here in Starlight Hollow, we asked if she could introduce us.”
Before I could answer, Bree returned with our drinks.
Georgie set down her cookie next to her coffee cup and said, “Mom’s right. We need real advice, from someone who can decipher what’s going on. We don’t trust phone psychics, and we’ve met a couple other people in town who claim to be mediums, but they seem like amateurs.”
I could sense the fear behind their frenetic energy. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong.”
Darla glanced at Georgie. “Well, we recently moved into an older home, and the minute we did, things started happening.”
“What about when you looked at it?”
“Our real estate agent found it for us while we were on vacation. We were worried we’d lose out so we had her make an offer and we did something stupid, since there’s such a scramble for real estate. We waived the inspection.” Darla sighed, embarrassed.
“Well, that’s not ideal. But you knew that.”
“Yeah. So, when we moved in, the activity started immediately. And my husband suddenly started acting strangely. He’s more temperamental and he yells at the kids a lot. He never did before. I’ve asked him what’s wrong and he won’t answer.”
“What else has been going on?” I was interested now.
“As a family, we’ve started arguing more, and it’s usually over nothing. And the arguments escalate. The other night Kevin—my husband—blew up when I told him dinner was late. He slammed out the door and sulked in the shed all evening. I finally talked him into coming inside before bed, but I thought he was going to lose his shit.”
“Is this the only time that’s happened?” I asked.
“No, but never before we moved into this house. And it’s more than that,” Darla said. “The kids are afraid of him.” She looked defeated.
“Kids? So, you have more kids than Georgie?” I asked.
“Georgie’s my oldest.”
“I’m twenty-four. Kevin’s not my father, but he’s Mary and Johnny’s dad.”
“Mary’s fourteen, and John is eight,” Darla said.
