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into the ground, leaving only the bare, ugly cave.

“Eh. I was tired of that ridiculous bottle anyway.” She flipped her long, blond ponytail over her shoulder.

“Really sister? Jeannie the genie? You have always been so vain. Have you learned nothing? Perhaps returning to the ancient crone’s body is necessary.”

The witch looked down at her freshly-painted, pink toenails. She helplessly watched them change back into the old, gnarled feet she’d been forced to wear these past forty years. Ugh.

“Alright.” Her shoulders sagged, and she scuffed her unpainted toes in the dirt. “What do you want of me?” she asked.

“You know what I want. Stop manipulating the citizens. Suffer your punishment as it was intended. Learn something. Perhaps you will find yourself liberated.”

“In the meantime, what should I do?”

“Meditate? Read? Plant a garden? Write a book?”

The witched laughed at that. “Once upon a time, in a dark and dreary cave . . .”

Her sister looked irritated, not amused.

The witch tapped her knobby fingers on her arm. “If I promise to be good, can I have something better than this bare cave to live in?” She tried to look innocent. It didn’t work.

“Your promises have always been meaningless.”

Her sister sounded annoyed. She’d better try a different approach. “Something else, then. Penance?”

Silence was her answer. So, she waited. Counted in her head to a hundred. It had always worked before. Her sister was too kind-hearted, even though she pretended otherwise.

“Penance. Then you shall have an improved living space. Of my choosing.”

“Pfff. Fine.”

Her sister approached and held out her hands, palms up. “I will use the power of two. You can give back some joy where you have removed it.”

“You know I hate that,” the witch whined. Oh, she did. She hated that goodie-two-shoes stuff. But now that her sister had offered, she’d be a fool not to take it. She gingerly placed her hands upon her sister’s.

The sister began to chant.

When the witch realized what she was doing, she recoiled, drawing her hands back.

Her sister glared. “You have only yourself to blame for this. For once in your long, godawful life, do one kind thing for someone else.”

The witch paused. “Ack. Fine. Perhaps it will count toward my redemption.”

She replaced her hands as the words swirled in the air around them.

Then it was done, and her sister was gone.

The witch turned around in eager anticipation to see her new living space. She clutched the bodice of her old-fashioned dress and gasped.

It was an exact replica of their childhood home. From the year 1840.

38

“Good morning! Time to get up, Buttercup!” I woke to the sweet voice of my cat. Meows from Chanel and little Lola followed, which I interpreted to be their good mornings too. I reached over and gave all three a morning rub.

“It’s the ten-day-a-versary since Sapphire’s dramatic rescue. Oooo, and nine days since Kerbie’s demise. Or can I say death now?”

“I think you can stick to demise for now,” I said.

The horror of the entire episode was still fresh in my mind. I was grateful that the family had accepted my sincere and repeated apologies for withholding the box from them. They understood the deep need to protect the family and realized that my intentions were pure. Misguided, they said, but pure.

I sat up and looked out the window at the sunrise. Hmmm. I could always watch the sunset from my room. Did the house revolve or did the sun? With Destiny Falls, one could never be sure.

“Guess what, Pussycat? The grand dame will be calling you down to her office this morning.”

“Oh, boy. Does Chanel know why?” I asked. Because, of course, that’s where she got her news.

Meeeow. Meowww. Meow. Meeeeow. Meow. I’d never heard Chanel so talkative.

“Nope. No idea,” said Latifa. But she wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“Fine. Keep your secret. I’ll find out soon enough.” I slipped out of bed and did a few morning stretches.

My phone pinged.

Your grandmother requests your

presence in her office at 7:00 a.m.

Good morning, Cleobella.

Thank you. : - )

.

Good morning, dearest.

(Then she added an emoji of a purple octopus. I assumed it was her version of a smiley face.)

“Good morning, Grandmother,” I walked into her office and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. The fact that she turned her face up to accept it brought me a rush of happiness. Seeing a small, black kitten asleep on her lap made me smile.

“Take a seat, granddaughter.”

Out of nowhere, Cleobella appeared and placed a cup of tea on the end table beside me. She put a fresh cup in front of my grandmother, then quietly exited the room.

I didn’t notice what she was wearing. I was so apprehensive about the reason for my grandmother’s summons, I was keeping my eyes on her, waiting for her to speak.

“Congratulations on your first Observer issue. The cover story has captured the attention of the entire community. Well done, my dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you able to continue with a monthly issue?” she asked.

“I’m sure that I can. The story opened doors for me. Everyone appears to be anxious to talk, which gives me a great opportunity to hear all the gossip.”

“Shall we call it local commentary?” She looked amused.

Local commentary. I liked that. It fit my new image of the community newspaper editor. I might even use that name for a regular column.

Grandmother picked up her cup and sipped her tea. Was that it? Was that the reason for a meeting? She hadn’t dismissed me, so there was more to come. I sat still and waited.

“I have worked with a friend to orchestrate a very special occasion for you. You may consider it a gift. A sign of my appreciation for your dedication to the family. You have embraced us all with your bungling, kind-hearted passion, and I wish to show my gratefulness.”

Did she really have to include bungling? Hmm. I suppose it was accurate. The rest of her words settled in my heart with a joyful warmth.

“There are strict regulations and rules that you

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