The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Chapter 10

10

News of Alistair’s lunch date means the paparazzi have lost interest in me. My brush with fame is officially over. There’s no one hiding in the front garden when I return home that evening. No suspicious people lurking in the street. Though there’s still a lingering feeling of being watched. It’s probably just my imagination. I do my best to shake it off as I head up the stairs. It’s good to be back. I owe my neighbors an apology. Maybe I can talk Mom into baking a few batches of cookies with my help.

When I reach my door, however, the quiet hum of conversation comes from within. What the fuck?

I drop my shopping bag and fumble in my purse for the small can of Mace. With pepper spray in hand, I slowly turn the doorknob. The door is unlocked, with no sign of forced entry. Curiouser and curiouser. No sign of any criminals engaging in nefarious activity. Just two women drinking my wine, kicking back on my couch, and reading my notebook. My very private notebook.

“Lilah!” Lady Helena cries in her posh accent. Her long dark hair is messily piled atop her head. She’s in another long flowy pastel dress paired with a cream tweed jacket and several strands of pearls. But it’s the combat boots that pull her outfit together. She gets up to greet me. “How wonderful to see you again!”

“It’s nice to see you too. This is a surprise. I didn’t notice the Rolls-Royce outside.”

“Dougal dropped me off. He had some errands to run.”

“Thought I’d come over early and check on the press situation,” says Rebecca, who has a key to the apartment for emergencies. “Look who I found knocking on your door.”

“Wow” is all I can think to say. As good as it is to see her, I have no idea why Her Ladyship is here. Her son was out today on a date making it obvious that he and I aren’t together. Maybe she wants to be friends too.

“Her Ladyship and I have been talking, and we have some questions.” Rebecca holds up the notebook. “Such as why are you drafting your will and researching green burials?”

“I think being buried in a woven willow casket is lovely,” says Lady Helena. “It reminds me of a picnic basket. Like you’re eternally out to lunch.”

“Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “It was actually private...the contents of my notebook.”

Lady Helena smiles. “I swear we weren’t snooping, sweetheart. We just happened to see it. It was right over there on the table. Underneath those papers and some junk mail and a book or two.”

“You’ve been acting weird, and I’m worried,” says Rebecca. “What’s this sudden interest in death? I know you had a hard time last weekend with the ex and work and your car. But there’s more, I can feel it. What’s going on with you?”

Having Lady Helena here for this conversation isn’t ideal. Though she is sort of a part of things. At any rate, it was one thing to keep Rebecca in the dark to save us both some stress, but if she’s stressing anyway...

“I’m going to need you to keep an open mind,” I begin. “Please hold all questions and comments until the end.”

Rebecca nods.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” says Lady Helena. “We’re listening.”

And I open my mouth and tell them almost everything.

“Goodness,” says Lady Helena when I’m done, her delicate brows drawn tight together. “I can certainly see why you’d be upset.”

“Yeah,” I say, taking a seat. “It’s been a lot to deal with.”

“We don’t actually know if you’ve been cursed or hexed or what, do we?”

“You think Good Witch Willow cursed her?” asks Rebecca with some serious side-eye.

Lady Helena taps a finger pensively against her chin. “It’s times like this I wish I could see auras. Because it could have been anyone, really. Or a buildup of negative energy from your own psyche. Or even bad karma spilling over from past lives. Many things can sour a life force. A spiritual cleanse would be the safest thing.”

“Guess it couldn’t hurt,” I say with much dubiousness. “It would definitely be a new experience.”

“Don’t panic,” says Lady Helena, pulling a cell from the pocket of her designer jacket. “I know exactly what to do.”

“You do?”

There’s no reply. She’s already striding into my bedroom and shutting the door. Her phone call requires privacy, apparently.

Rebecca sticks up her hand. “Hang on. I have questions. Lots of questions.”

“Okay.”

“The first is more of a statement,” she says. “You get that I hired Good Witch Willow as entertainment for my party and that you’re not actually going to die, right?”

“Well...”

“I understand how the predictions coming true rattled you. Your ex cheating and the promotion and the lotto. I mean, the lotto in particular is—Wow. But, babe, they’re just coincidences. They have to be.” Rebecca rises and comes toward me with arms outstretched. “We’re hugging now.”

“That’s nice,” I say, hugging her back.

“One day you’re going to realize that you don’t have to handle everything on your own. In the meantime, I think using this as the impetus to get out there and try new and exciting things is a great idea.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

“What are you going to do with the money?”

“Not a clue.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she says. “Josh is definitely gone and out of the picture?”

My nod is one of much resolution.

“Good. So you and Prince Charming are friends now, huh? I assume as much, what with his mother being here.”

“I think so,” I say. “Yeah.”

“Lady Helena is wild.”

“So wild. You have no idea.”

She turns my hand over and studies the new book tattoo. “This is cute. Did it hurt?”

“Like a bitch. But there’s one more prediction,” I say in a quiet voice. “One I didn’t want to mention in front of Her Ladyship because I don’t think her son would approve. He’s supposedly my soulmate.”

“No shit?”

“Nope.”

She cocks her head. “Are you two involved in a more than friendly way, by any chance, and you forgot to tell me?”

“Still just friends.”

“But you almost crashed into him the day after Willow told you about being soulmates. The timing is amazing.” Rebecca blows out a breath. “Though I refuse to believe that any of it’s real. That these predictions are anything more than uncanny nonsense. It’s important to keep a grip on reality.”

“I honestly have no idea anymore.”

“Which of the wish-list items can I do with you?”

I instantly perk up. “Which ones would you like to do?”

The bedroom door swings open, and Lady Helena appears with her cell pressed to her ear. “Sweetheart, I’m guessing you’re probably not comfortable with casual nudity?”

“Um. No. Not really.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing until you’ve had your tits out on a beach in Europe. Such a feeling of liberation. Just don’t forget the sunscreen. I suppose whatever swimwear you have will do for tonight,” she says before returning to her call. “We’re going to need lavender for purity, rosemary for cleansing, lemon balm for healing, and cedar for protection. And I want a big-ass chunk of clear quartz, Dougal. The biggest you can get.” She disappears back into my bedroom and slams the door closed. What is it with this family and slamming doors?

“This should be interesting,” says Rebecca. “Are you sure you’re up for being spiritually cleansed by Her Ladyship?”

“That’s a really good question.”

A hint of a smile curves the corner of her mouth. “I asked her earlier if I could call her Helena. You should have seen the look on her face. She was horrified.”

No idea which of us started giggling first. And I’m not even entirely sure what we’re giggling about. But neither of us stop for a good long time.

When I tried to envision what Lady Helena might be planning, standing in my shower in a bikini while Her Ladyship used a pump-action water pistol to spray me with a combination of essential oils wasn’t one of them. Not even close. Same goes for having Himalayan salt thrown at me intermittently. The way it stings when she accidentally gets me in the eye. I don’t start to lose my temper, however, until I stub my toe for the third time on the boulder-size chunk of quartz sitting on the shower floor.

“Motherfucker,” I cry.

“Focus, sweetheart. You’ve got to say the mantra,” says Lady Helena. “Repeat after me: I am whole. I am healthy. I am calm. Or reasonably calm, at least.”

Rebecca leans against the bathroom counter. “I’m pretty sure calm left the building a while back.”

“Aye. So did common sense,” mutters Dougal, standing in the bathroom doorway. Like I need an audience for this event. He scratches at his gray beard and says, “Perhaps I should give the lad a call.”

“Absolutely not, Dougal.” Lady Helena turns the Super Soaker on the man with a warning look. “You know Alistair doesn’t believe in any of this. He’ll just be in the way. I know what’s best for Lilah in this particular situation.”

Dougal mutters something beneath his breath.

Lady Helena turns back to me and lets loose with a jet of liquid. It gets me right in the left breast and hurts like hell. Trusting Her Ladyship with such a powerful water pistol was a mistake. One of several I may have made regarding her tonight.

I cover my chest with my arms. “Ouch. Not the boobs.”

“Sorry, sweetie. Turn around and I’ll do your back.”

“I think we’re finished,” I say, pushing my damp and oily hair out of my face. My eyes are still stinging and watering and yeah. “Thank you for trying to help, but I’ve had enough.”

“Oh.” Lady Helena’s face falls. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thank you. I really appreciate you going to so much trouble. But yes.”

“All right, then.”

“Eighteen minutes of water torture isn’t bad,” says Dougal. “Good effort, lass.”

I give him a thumbs-up.

There’s a chance I’ve done something stranger in my lifetime. But I can’t remember what or when. Once my audience is gone and the bathroom door is closed, I strip off the bikini and wash myself from head to toe—not once, not twice, but three times. It takes about half a bottle of shampoo to get the salt and oil out of my hair. Nothing is going to get rid of the various scents clinging to me. My smell could most neatly be summed up as vaguely pleasant mass confusion.

I dress in wide-leg jeans and a white tee and socks. Pure comfort. My wet hair is tied up in a bun and my face is clean. Food has been delivered by the time I head back out. I didn’t know we were ordering, but I could definitely eat. A sentiment seconded by my growling stomach.

Rebecca is oohing and aahing over the assortment of dishes spread out on the coffee table. It’s a beautiful display of sashimi, tempura, gyoza, edamame, and more. “Look at this! Have you ever seen such a perfect piece of sushi in all your life? It’s a goddamn work of art.”

“No,” I agree. “This is amazing.”

“I noticed you had ‘Michelin star restaurant’ on your list,” says Lady Helena with a pleased little smile. “Dougal and I eat at Hara as often as we can. They were happy to put together something for you.”

This time when I tear up, it isn’t due to the salt. I mean, Uber Eats is great, but this is food delivery on a whole other level. Candles light the room and music plays at a low volume. After the drama and action in the bathroom, it is a balm to my soul. And another check off my wish list. Which makes me think about the countdown to my death day, but no, I won’t ruin this lovely moment by stressing out about that. Not when it wouldn’t even do any good. “This is beautiful. Thank you. But there’s so much. You’re not staying?”

“No.” She smiles. “It’s time for us to be heading home. I need my rest, what with a certain idiot who shall remain nameless calling at odd hours carrying on about absolute bollocks. I swear, one of these days, I am going to shove that crown right up his—”

Dougal loudly clears his throat.

“Thank you again,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome.” She pats me on the cheek. “Don’t forget to use your mantra. It also wouldn’t be a bad idea to sleep with the crystal. Close contact can help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“We can go over how to put a hex on someone next time if you like. You know. Just in case you ever need it. Basic life skills and so on.”

“That’s enough now, Your Ladyship.” Dougal holds open the door, and Lady Helena sweeps out into the night. Then he gives us a parting nod. “Nice to meet you, Rebecca. Come and lock this door, Lilah.”

“Bye, Dougal,” I say, closing the door behind him. Now I know where Alistair learned his security-conscious ways and general bossiness.

“Getting back to your wish list.” Rebecca pours sake from the bottle into the two small matching cups. “I don’t have any major meetings tomorrow. How do you feel about me being your someone special to stay up all night and watch the sunrise with?”

“You’d do that?” I ask with a grin.

“Of course.” She smiles back at me. “If I qualify as a special person, that is. It might have been meant romantically.”

I am not going to get teary again. People being kind shouldn’t make me want to bawl. But for some reason these days, it definitely does. All the big feelings are bouncing around inside of me. Guess you appreciate moments on a different level when your time might be limited. Ticking items off my wish list sure has a special significance. “You are most definitely a special nonromantic person to me, and I would love to sit up all night with you.”

“Let’s talk nonsense all night, Lilah,” she says. “It’ll be fun.”

And that’s exactly what we do.