6. Presley
Presley
The morning sunlight makes everything from last night seem ridiculous.
I stand in the kitchen wearing fuzzy socks, an oversized sweatshirt, and absolutely no makeup while Penny stares at me from beside her empty food bowl.
“You ate.”
Her tail wags.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
More wagging.
“You’re not starving.”
She looks at the bowl, then at me. Then back at the bowl.
I narrow my eyes. “Emotional manipulation doesn’t work on me.”
Penny sits. Her ears droop.
Crap.
I sigh. “Fine. We’ll compromise. One treat.”
Her entire body comes alive.
“Little beggar.”
I grab a small treat from the container and hand it to her, then reach for my phone. No messages from Stella. That’s suspicious. Normally, she would’ve sent me at least three by now.
One asking if I’m alive. One reminding me to eat something. And one random meme that has nothing to do with anything we’ve talked about.
I glance toward the coffee maker, then immediately look away. “Nope.”
Penny tilts her head.
“I’m not risking it.”
She has no idea what I’m talking about. And I’m not about to relive the espresso disaster right now. Some things are better left alone.
I grab my purse and keys. “Come on. We’re getting coffee made by professionals.”
Penny races toward the door.
“You just want a pup cup.”
She begins running in circles.
I shake my head.
Lord, help me with this one.
Ten minutes later, Penny is buckled into her little dog seat on the passenger side while I drive toward town. The trees lining the road blaze orange and red beneath a bright blue sky, yesterday’s uneasiness fading with every mile.
I was being ridiculous. That’s all.
The horror movies and huge house in the dark woods got to me.
It could also be too much grief.
Or not enough sleep.
Either way, those things are the perfect recipe for imagining a psychopath standing outside my house.
My phone rings through the car speakers.
I glance at the screen. Unknown number.
I hesitate. “Probably someone trying to sell me an extended car warranty.”
Penny looks at me.
“Or tell me I’ve won a cruise.”
I debate not answering. But what if something happened to Stella and someone from the university is calling to tell me?
I tap the button on the steering wheel. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Presley?”
“Speaking.”
“Hi, Presley. This is Margaret from The Crooked Spine.”
I straighten behind the wheel. “Hi, Margaret.”
“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
“No. Not at all.”
“I wanted to see if you’re still interested in the position you applied for.”
My mouth drops open.
Penny glances at me.
“I—yes. Absolutely.”
Margaret laughs softly. “Good. One of our employees just gave notice this morning. She’s moving out of state sooner than expected, and your application was still on my desk.”
My heart gives a strange little jump.
The Crooked Spine.
I’d applied at the quaint bookstore weeks ago. Before Grandma got worse. Before everything became hospital visits and medication schedules and learning how to pretend I wasn’t terrified every time she slept longer than usual.
At the time, Margaret had told me they weren’t hiring.
Apparently, Stella’s witchy intuition has struck again.
“I’d love the job.”
“Wonderful. Would you be able to stop in tomorrow morning? We can go over everything and get your paperwork started.”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Ten o’clock work for you?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She ends the call.
I stare through the windshield, feeling dazed.
Then I look at Penny.
“Oh my God.”
Her tail wags.
“I got the job.”
She pants happily, her lips curving in what looks like a smile.
“At The Crooked Spine.”
More wagging.
“Stella is never going to shut up about this.”
Penny sneezes.
“Exactly.”
I immediately call Stella. She answers on the second ring. “You got the job, didn’t you?”
I blink. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You’re calling me before nine in the morning. Either the house is on fire or I was right about something.”
“The Crooked Spine called.”
“I KNEW IT!”
I wince and turn down the volume.
“Jesus. I think I’m half deaf now.”
She’s unbothered. “I told you!”
“You said I’d end up working there.”
“Because I know things.”
“Lucky guess.”
“You still don’t believe in my witchy intuition, huh?”
“You’re unbearable.”
“I know.”
“At least you’re honest.”
She laughs. “So you’re taking it?”
“Of course I’m taking it.”
“And abandoning your promising career in coffee?”
“I haven’t even started.”
“Hollow Creek’s espresso machines live to see another day.”
I gasp. “You’re horrible.”
“I’m accurate.”
“Whatever.”
“You’re excited.”
I smile despite myself. “Yeah.”
And I am. More than I expected to be.
Something about working around books feels right. Familiar. Safe. A place where I can breathe for a while.
“Your grandma would be happy,” Stella says softly.
My throat tightens. “Yeah. She would.”
I blink rapidly, fighting back tears. “Okay. Enough of these feelings before coffee.”
“There she is.”
I laugh. “I’ll call you later.”
“You better.”
“I will.”
“And Presley?”
“Yeah?”
“I told you so.”
I roll my eyes and hang up.
Penny looks at me.
“She’s obnoxious.”
Penny yawns.
“Thank you for your support.”
Bramble & Bean smells like heaven. Coffee. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Fresh pastries.
Basically, everything I need in my life right now.
The bell above the door jingles as I walk inside with Penny tucked against my side.
Gracie looks up from behind the counter and smiles. “There she is.”
I smile. “Hi, Gracie.”
Her gaze drops to Penny. “And there’s the baby girl.”
Penny’s tail immediately starts wagging.
Everyone loves Penny. And vice versa.
Gracie grins. “Coffee?”
“Yes. Desperately.”
“The usual?”
“Please.”
I set Penny down, keeping hold of her leash while Gracie rings me up.
Walter, Gracie’s fourteen-year-old male dachshund, immediately comes out from behind the counter, moving slowly. His tail wags as he greets Penny.
I clear my throat. “So.”
Gracie gives me the total, and I swipe my card.
“That sounds ominous,” she says.
“Apparently everyone in Hollow Creek thinks everything I say sounds ominous.”
“Maybe it’s your delivery.”
“Rude.”
She laughs, then turns toward the espresso machine and reaches for my cup. Her elbow hits something. The machine hisses.
Gracie squeaks as espresso shoots sideways. “Shit!”
She jumps back, nearly colliding with the counter behind her. Espresso drips down the side of the machine.
I can’t hold back my laughter.
“It’s probably for the best that this place doesn’t have two of us working here.”
Gracie looks confused as she grabs a towel.
“I had an incident with my grandma’s espresso machine.” A sheepish smile curls my lips. “I kind of blew it up.”
She laughs. “This one’s new.”
“What happened to the old one?”
She hesitates.
I immediately start laughing.
“We have a lot in common.”
She gives me a sheepish smile. “This machine is temperamental.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is.”
She wipes up the mess.
Perfect segue into my news. “I got a call this morning.”
She looks over her shoulder. “Good or bad?”
“Good.”
“That’s promising.”
Maybe not for you.
“The Crooked Spine offered me a job.”
Gracie stops… then slowly turns around. “And?”
I brace myself. “And I’m going to take it.”
She stares at me for three seconds, then smiles. “Good for you, Presley. Seriously.”
My shoulders unknot. I blow out a sigh of relief.
“At least my espresso machine will be safe.” She winks at me.
“From me. Not from you.”
Gracie hands me my coffee. “Good. Then it won’t be experiencing trauma from both of us.”
“I’m leaving,” I say, laughing.
“You just got here.”
“I feel judged.”
“You are being judged.”
Penny sits beside me, looking between us. Walter lies beside her, licking his paw.
“See?” I point at her. “Even Penny thinks you’re mean.”
Gracie comes around the counter and squats down, petting her. Penny immediately tries to climb into her lap.
I shake my head. “Unbelievable.”
“She has excellent instincts.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Gracie straightens. “Seriously, though. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
“And don’t worry about the job here. I’ll figure it out.”
“I feel bad backing out before I even start.”
“Don’t. You wanted the bookstore job.”
“I know.”
“You have to do what’s best for you, Presley. Not what others want you to do.”
Something in my chest loosens. “Thank you.”
She nods, then gives me a wicked grin. “Besides, books are safer.”
I snort out a laugh. “Stella said the exact same thing.”
“Well, she’s right.”
I lift my coffee. “I’m not discussing this anymore.”
She laughs.
The bell jingles as someone enters behind me. I can’t explain it, but the hair on the back of my neck rises.
I glance over my shoulder.
An older man heads toward the counter. A woman carrying a toddler follows him. They barely spare me a glance.
Yet it feels like I’m being watched.
I look out the front window. Cars line the street. People move along the sidewalk. A couple stands outside the bakery across the road.
There’s nothing unusual.
And certainly, no one staring at me.
Still, the feeling remains.
It’s the same one I had last night. Like someone is watching me.
I tighten my grip around Penny’s leash.
“Presley?”
I look back at Gracie.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “Just tired.”
Her gaze lingers on me for a moment. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
I wave at her, then Penny and I head toward the door.
The cool air hits my face when I push it open. I tug my coat tighter, still looking around like someone’s watching me.
Penny trots beside me as I head toward my car.
I look across the street again.
No shadow moves between buildings.
No stranger stares at me.
There’s nothing out of the ordinary.
I shake my head. “Great. Now the horror movie has followed me into daylight.”
Penny looks up at me.
“At least you didn’t growl this time.”
Her tail wags.
“Exactly. Case closed.”
I put her in the car, climb behind the wheel, and pull out of the parking lot.
Even though I tell myself I’m being ridiculous, I still check the rearview mirror twice before turning toward home.
The attic smells like dust, old wood, and cardboard.
I stand at the top of the narrow stairs with my hands on my hips.
“This was a terrible idea.”
Penny stands three steps below me.
Smart dog.
Sunlight streams through a small window near the peak of the roof, illuminating stacks of boxes, old furniture, trunks, and enough Christmas decorations to qualify Grandma for some kind of holiday intervention.
I step farther inside. “Okay. Looking for Halloween decorations.”
Penny remains on the stairs.
“You’re very helpful.”
She pants.
I roll my eyes and start reading labels.
CHRISTMAS.
CHRISTMAS.
MORE CHRISTMAS.
I snort. “Of course.”
Grandma believed there was no such thing as too much Christmas.
Grandpa disagreed.
Which meant she decorated more.
I step around an old rocking chair and find another row of boxes.
EASTER.
THANKSGIVING.
“There you are.”
HALLOWEEN.
HALLOWEEN.
OUTDOOR HALLOWEEN.
I crouch beside the boxes.
Grandma’s handwriting stretches across the top in thick black marker.
My fingers reverently trace the letters.
She wrote that.
She stood exactly where I’m standing and packed these decorations away, assuming she’d be here to unpack them again.
My throat burns.
I close my eyes.
“Damn it,” I whisper.
Penny whines softly from the stairs.
“I’m okay.” The lie comes automatically.
I open the box. Orange tissue paper covers the top. Beneath it sits a ceramic jack-o’-lantern with a crooked smile.
I laugh through the ache in my chest. “Oh my God. Grandma loved this ugly thing.”
She put it on the fireplace mantel every October even though one eye was chipped and Grandpa repeatedly threatened to throw it away.
He never did, though.
Because she loved it.
I lift it carefully.
“I guess you’re staying.”
Penny finally climbs the rest of the stairs.
“That’s brave of you.”
She trots over and sniffs the pumpkin.
“Don’t lick it.”
She licks it.
“Of course.”
I set the pumpkin aside and dig deeper.
Black leaf garland.
Black candles.
A little wooden sign that says WITCHES WELCOME.
A stuffed bat with one wing hanging lower than the other.
Then I find something wrapped in newspaper.
I unwrap it.
A small construction-paper ghost stares back at me. Two uneven eyes. A crooked smile.
PRESLEY - AGE 7 is written across the bottom in Grandma’s handwriting.
I swallow hard. “She kept this?”
Penny presses against my leg.
I sit on the floor beside her.
For several seconds, I let myself cry.
Not the kind that breaks me apart. Just quiet tears.
Missing her.
Missing Grandpa.
Missing the version of myself who once believed grandparents lived forever because mine felt too important to die.
Eventually, I wipe my cheeks. “Okay.”
Penny looks up at me.
“We’re not sitting up here crying all day.”
Her tail thumps against the floor.
“We have decorating to do.”
Two hours later, the house looks completely different.
Black garland wraps around the fireplace mantel, with orange mini lights giving it a pretty glow.
Grandma’s ugly pumpkin sits proudly in the center, flanked by black candles.
The WITCHES WELCOME sign hangs beside the front door.
My childhood ghost is taped to the refrigerator.
Penny is currently dragging the stuffed bat across the living room by its good wing.
“Penny.”
She freezes.
“Drop it.”
She stares at me.
“That's vintage.”
She stares at me for another beat... then runs.
“Seriously?”
I chase her around the coffee table. But she’s too fast. She darts behind the couch.
“You have six toys lying around.”
Her little head pops out.
“Seven if we count the squeaky pumpkin.”
She disappears again.
I laugh.
The sound echoes through the room.
When I stop, the realization washes over me.
For the first time since Grandma died, it doesn't sound wrong.
I look around.
The house is still too quiet. Too big.
Still missing the people who made it home.
But the orange glow from the little lights around the mantel warms the room.
A pumpkin-spice candle burns on the coffee table.
Woodsmoke drifts from the fireplace.
And for just a second, when I breathe deeply, it smells familiar.
Not exactly the way it used to.
Not quite home.
But closer.
My chest aches. I smile anyway. “Tomorrow we tackle the porch.”
Penny emerges from behind the couch with the bat still in her mouth.
“You’re helping.”
Her tail wags.
“Glad we agree.”