Awakening (Lily Dale #1)(26)

“A tree stump?”

“It used to be. Now it’s encased in a concrete block. You’ll learn more about it if you stay.”

“If I stay?” Calla echoes.

Her grandmother walks over to the cupboard and takes out a loaf of Wonder bread, saying, “I know you’re having second thoughts, sweetie pie.”

How do you know? Calla wants to ask, but thinks better of it. Of course she knows. She’s psychic.

“And I’m not surprised you’re thinking of getting the heck out of Dodge,” Odelia goes on. “You were hit with a real wallop yesterday when you found out about me, and Lily Dale.”

Calla nods. A wallop. Yeah, you could call it that.

And what about the fact that her mother and grandmother never got along? Why didn’t they? Did it have anything to do with Lily Dale, and Odelia’s so-called occupation?

The lake. It was something about the lake . . . dredging the lake? Already, last night’s dream—no, nightmare—is beginning to fade.

“Look, I’m not going to try to persuade you to stick around”—Odelia opens the fridge and removes a carton of eggs—“but I’d like it if you would. It’s been nice, having you here with me. I get lonely sometimes.”

“Doesn’t Miriam keep you company?” Again with the sarcasm. But Calla can’t seem to help herself, and anyway, Odelia doesn’t bat an eye.

“Miriam can’t eat my cooking, and she can’t play Trivial Pursuit. How about you?”

“What? I, uh, liked your spaghetti and meatballs,” Calla admits with a weak smile.

“I hope you’ll like my French toast, too, because that’s what I’m about to make us for breakfast. Are you good at Trivial Pursuit?”

“That depends—which edition?” Not that it matters much. Sometimes, when she plays—rather, played—with Lisa and Kevin, she found that the answers would just come to her, even when she had no clue about the subject matter.

“Genus edition, of course,” Odelia says briskly. “Want to play after breakfast?”

Calla shrugs, unaccustomed to playing board games in the middle of a weekday—or eating breakfast at nearly noon. “Sure,” she says, “why not. But what about your schedule?”

“Unless I get another walk-in, I’m free for a couple of hours.”

“So you can’t even tell me why they were here?” she asks, curious about Mrs. Riggs and her daughter.

“Why who was here?”

“That woman, Elaine, and her daughter. From Ohio.”

Odelia is staring at her, looking surprised for some reason. Oh! She must think— “They were the ones who were here last night,” Calla quickly explains. “That’s how I know they’re from Ohio. The mom told me. She told me her name, too.”

Just so you know I’m not some kind of . . . psychic.

Odelia is wearing an oddly thoughtful expression, watching Calla carefully. “Did her daughter tell you her name, too?”

“No. She didn’t say anything.”

Odelia nods. Still staring. Feeling uncomfortable, Calla changes the subject. “Um, I had to make a phone call to my friend in Tampa. I hope that’s okay. I’ll pay for the charges.”

“Hmm?”

“The long-distance charges. I would have asked, but you were busy with those people.”

“Right.” Odelia nods slowly. “The woman and her daughter. From Ohio.”

“Right.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the charges.” Odelia has finally snapped out of it. Whatever it was. “It was probably just a few cents. No big deal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Calla gets the feeling her grandmother wants to say something more, but she doesn’t.





SEVEN

A few rainy days later, in yet another lunchtime Trivial Pursuit tournament—now a tradition—Calla has four wedges of proverbial pie in her game piece. Odelia has five and is madly rolling the dice in an effort to gain the sixth.

“Roll again . . . four! History or roll again. I’ll roll again.”

There’s a knock at the door as she blows on the dice.

“Who is it?” she calls, shaking the dice in both hands, her gaze intent on the game board.

“It’s me, Odelia,” a voice calls through the screen door.

“Oh, Evangeline!” Odelia stops shaking, hands poised over the board. “I forgot all about you. Come on in!”

“Thanks a lot,” the voice retorts, and the screen door creaks open. “You tell me to come over as soon as I get back from camp, and then you forget about me?”

A moment later, a young girl with frizzy reddish hair appears in the living room.

Another client? Nah, Calla decides, taking in her rather plain, pudgy face and realizing they must be around the same age. Evangeline’s wearing a pair of baggy khaki shorts and an oversized orange Cleveland Browns T-shirt, and her sturdy, athletic-looking legs end in purple high-top sneakers worn without socks. Calla can’t tell if she’s truly heavy or just looks that way because of her clothes. Lisa the fashionista would love to do a makeover on someone like her.

“This is Evangeline Taggart, Calla. She’s our next-door neighbor.”