Stunned into silence, I placed my cell phone down. Athena, my German Shephard lay at my feet, eyeing me as if she knew something was wrong. I rubbed her head, hoping she understood that I was fine.

But it was weird.

I hadn’t talked to my aunt. . . in twenty years. And she’d just called me, out of the blue. It’s like she knew my life was in shambles. Like she knew I needed to hear from her. I’d just quit my job a few days prior, a position in which I’d worked twelve-hour days thinking I was helping the company. I’d hoped to get a promotion to management. I’m a risk analyst – was a risk analyst. Something I thought I was good at, but then I got a new boss, and she seemed out to get me, and well, I guess I left before that could happen.

I’m burned out on corporate America. And living in New York City just felt wrong now. I had friends – co-workers really and men I’d dated, but nothing serious. Definitely nobody here to make me want to stay, find a new job and start over. I’d lived in Manhattan since I graduated from business school. But now, all I wanted was a break. A slower pace of life and to be around people that knew and loved me.

Which is why it was so strange that my aunt just called me. Aunt Lidia, my mother’s sister knew that before my father passed, he was adamant that I not see her or her daughters – my two cousins Kamila and Minka. I’m surprised she wasn’t angry with me. I mean, I’m an adult now, twenty-eight. I could’ve traveled to North Carolina to see her if I wanted too.

Honestly, my dad’s attitude about Aunt Lidia scared me. He never explained why we couldn’t visit at Christmas, or why I couldn’t stay during summer breaks like I used to. He always gave me the impression that my mother’s death when I was eight years old, had something to with her family, like he held my aunt responsible. Which made no sense, really. I mean, my mother drowned in the sea, down there. . . in Bellamy Bay. How could my aunt be responsible?

I remember The Bay as this beautiful sunny little beach town. It never seemed dangerous. In fact, it had been the exact opposite for me. Welcoming, safe, cozy. . . But my father who worked in law enforcement, a man who I thought was intrepid. . . seemed to fear my aunt.

And she’d just invited me to come visit.

I looked around my apartment. It was a small sleek space. Expensive. Full of wide white walls and chrome appliances. Accented with gray throw pillows and black lamps. Black framed pictures on the walls of weird geometric shapes. It all seemed strange to me now: cold, impersonal. . . Definitely not the me I was before I moved to the city. And then I thought of my aunt’s house, at least how I remembered it. The house was huge, historic, a Queen Anne, I think. And a pretty but odd shade of blue-green. The yard was filled with flowers and herbs. And there was a fountain. . . of a young maiden. . . a mermaid, maybe?

I took a deep relaxing breath, just thinking of how pretty and welcoming her home had been. Would it still look the same? Would it smell the same? Aunt Lidia had always been a baker, making the same cookies and cakes I vaguely remembered my mother baking. And I’d had a favorite dessert, one my aunt always made for me when I visited at Christmas. What was it called? It was a cookie, a buttery flaky treat filled with jam and covered in powdered sugar. I licked my lips, almost imagining the taste. My mother’s family was Polish-American, and my aunt always called the cookies by their Polish name. . . I knew a few words but the name of that cookie escaped me.

And my cousins! We’d been such a little trio during the summers, playing on the beach or in the back yard. Minka with her head of frizzy curls and bubbly laughter, would she greet me with open arms? Kamila who’d always been a bit of a tomboy, would she be happy to see me? If anyone held a grudge, I imagined it would be her.

I stared at my cell phone. I’d told my aunt, I’d think about her invitation to come down there and just sit a spell. Relax. Take a load off. All her words, I thought with a smile. And said in that soft lilting southern accent of hers. For a brief moment, when she’d called, I’d thought my mother was speaking to me. They sounded nearly identical, except my mother had lost her accent living in Connecticut with my father.

My dad. Tears sprang to my eyes. He’d been gone for nearly three months now, and it still didn’t feel real. He was always an overachiever. A workaholic. He didn’t smoke. But he’d eaten a lot of red meat, had a glass of whiskey before bed and dealt with a lot of stress investigating cases as a detective, and then eventually managing a police department as a chief. Stress killed him. And his broken heart probably didn’t help. He’d never remarried. Never fell in love again. There’d just been me. I was all that was left of his heart, he used to tell me. And I hadn’t even been with him when he’d passed, because I’d been working. That stupid job of mine, again.

A pang of guilt wrapped around my heart at the thought, and Athena raised her head off her paws to look at me. She whimpered, and I stroked her fur. I should’ve been there. But he knew I loved him. He knew I thought he was the best father in the world. I’d told him often enough. After mom died, it had just been us, and despite his busy career, he’d done everything he could to be the best parent possible.

My gaze fell to my phone, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. So, I was a little nervous about accepting my aunt’s invitation to visit. My father didn’t want me there. He had to have his reasons. But he was gone. Just like my mother. Tears sprang to my eyes and I blinked them back. I was alone. Absolutely alone in the world. Except. . .

I looked at my dog, wondering how she’d like to live in a place with a yard. A place where she could take walks on the beach. . . “Athena, you want to take a trip?”

She immediately stood, and barked her affirmation. And I smiled.

Sorry, dad. I sent the thought to my father, wherever he was just as a sensation of lightness filled my heart.

I picked up the phone and began dialing

I would accept my aunt’s invitation, and return to Bellamy Bay.


Giveaway: Leave a comment below for chance to win a copy of A Spell for Trouble, either print (U.S. residents only) or digital (open to everyone), winner’s choice. Giveaway ends May 13, 2020. Good luck everyone!


A Spell for Trouble is the first book in the NEW “Enchanted Bay” cozy mystery series, coming May 12, 2020.

Aleksandra Daniels hasn’t set foot in the quiet seaside town of Bellamy Bay, North Carolina in over twenty years. Ever since her mother’s tragic death, her father has mysteriously forbidden her from visiting her aunt and cousins. But on a whim, Alex accepts an invitation to visit her estranged relatives and to help them in their family business: an herbal apothecary known for its remarkably potent teas, salves, and folk remedies.

Bellamy Bay doesn’t look like trouble, but this is a town that harbors dark secrets. Alex discovers that her own family is at the center of salacious town gossip, and that they are rumored to be magical healers descended from mermaids. She brushes this off as nonsense until a local is poisoned and her aunt Lidia is arrested for the crime. Alex is certain Lidia is being framed, and she resolves to find out why.

Alex’s investigation unearths stories that some have gone to desperate lengths to conceal: forbidden affairs, family rivalries, and the truth about Alex’s own ancestry. And when the case turns deadly, Alex learns that not only are these secrets worth hiding, but they may even be worth killing for.

Purchase Link
# # # # # # # # # # #

Meet the author
Ever since Esme discovered Nancy Drew, she’s wanted to solve mysteries. As a mystery author, she’s finally found a way to make that dream come true. A former military spouse, Esme lives in Raleigh, NC with her family. When she’s not writing or dreaming up new mysteries for her sleuths to stumble upon, you can find her dancing her calories away in Zumba, patronizing her local bookstores or visiting the beach, the mountains and all historical sites in between. Learn more about Esme at esmeaddison.com and follow her on Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram

All comments are welcomed.