She didn’t have the energy to go find out today. She would see what else she needed to get settled, and then go to the box store in Maillard. Her bank account was slim, so she hoped her list wasn’t too long. Maybe she could get a job at that box store, because she was going to need some income. Well, she needed to see what her grandfather’s finances were. She needed to meet with Daisy again. She was the only heir—again, completely undeserved—but what did she inherit besides a town?
Her grandparents had been well-off, at least she’d always thought that was the case, because they’d always indulged her, had even paid for her college. But her grandfather had been in the memory home for four years, and she had no idea how much that had cost.
The house was just as she remembered—though sparser now, the rooms stripped of much of their furniture. What remained was covered with sheets, just as one would expect in a haunted house. While everything looked dreary through the dim light of the dusty windows, the interior didn’t appear as rundown as the outside. That was a relief, at least.
Okay, she needed to make an inventory of what she needed to buy, and hope it wasn’t too much. Why hadn’t she saved more when she had been raking in the money? Why had she signed her name to those documents that gave Dylan so much power over the restaurants she’d built from the ground up? If they’d been married, sure, giving him those rights, that trust, would have made sense, but he hadn’t wanted to get married, not yet. And honestly, as devastated as she was, she was glad for that.
Two hours later, she returned to Phantom Bayou with her purchases. She had towels, bedding and some groceries. Absolutely ridiculous that she used to be a chef, and now she was buying pre-cooked meals because it was cheaper than buying the ingredients. Adding insult to injury, she had to split the haul into two transactions to put one on each credit card. She pushed aside the idea that the accrued interest was going to put her over her limit, and that she’d probably have a late fee tacked on, too, since she hadn’t sent them her change of address. One issue at a time.
She used to be so responsible. The idea of having not one, but three, maxed-out credit cards and a pittance in the bank stressed her out.
At least she had a roof over her head, but she was going to have to get a job before the groceries ran out. She hadn’t seen a lot of options in town, and she didn’t want to have to drive into Maillard for work, because then she’d need gas money.
On the far edge of town sat the bar, a ramshackle thing that looked as if someone had propped a few sheets of corrugated tin together and called it a building—then, as an afterthought, nailed a bar sign to the front. But cars and motorcycles gathered out front, so they had business. Maybe they had a kitchen, too, and she could just eat at work.
She would look into that tomorrow. Right now she was starving, so she took her packaged meal to the kitchen. No microwave, of course, but she’d purposely bought dinners she could heat up in the oven.
Naturally, the oven wouldn’t heat. Exhausted, resigned, she just sat at the table, opened the package, and ate her meal cold. She was not going to cry about it.
Much.
Erielle probably could have spent a few more days settling into the house, but honestly, without her grandparents here, it was just too sad and empty, memories lurking around every corner.
Plus, she needed money. She needed to work up the nerve to go ask for a job at the bar. Of course the place didn’t open until noon, and since she hadn’t particularly slept well on the air mattress in a humid house that creaked even on a still night, she was up earlier than normal. She’d go back to Maillard at some point to get a fan, both for the white noise and to cool the room. She’d had a bowl of cereal for breakfast, though she wasn’t sure the refrigerator had kept the milk cold enough. The thing was probably older than she was. But nothing she could do about it now, so she headed out to explore the town.
She walked straight out of the gate and onto Main Street, past a few houses before she reached “downtown.” Most of the shops she’d visited with her grandparents were gone, the storefronts empty. She wasn’t sure if they’d been something else in the interim, but when she looked through the dusty windows, she didn’t think anyone had made an effort.
Seeing the buildings so neglected made her sad. She wondered if, as the landlord, she could entice businesses to town. What would a town like this need? They had a diner, a general store—more of a convenience store, really—and a bar. Off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of anything that would draw people to town.
At the end of the block, a spinning wind chime caught her eye. Beneath was a bench on the sidewalk, displaying plants, the greenery spilling over the seat and arms. So at least one storefront was occupied. As she watched, a dark-haired woman in a gauzy dress—a good concession to the humidity—carried a stepladder outside and arranged small pottery pieces on the rungs.
Drawn, Erielle walked past the closed beauty salon/barber shop, the closed five-and-dime where her grandmother took her weekly those years ago, and called out to the woman.
The woman froze, stock-still, then her shoulders relaxed when she saw Erielle. Okay, weird. That posture was definitely that of a woman who was afraid. Erielle resisted the urge to hold her hands out in a reassuring manner.
“Hi, I’m Erielle. I’m Etienne’s granddaughter. I just moved here.” She motioned to the house at the end of the street. She’d never really noticed how it loomed before.
“I’m Allison,” the other woman said after a minute, her eyes wide and her voice soft. “This is my shop.” She motioned, and Erielle turned to see the dream catchers hanging in the windows, the jars of incense sticks, the trays of crystals.
“Do you…do a lot of business?” The town didn’t have a lot of drive-through traffic. Who would come all the way out here to visit a New Age shop?
“Some. Not usually for another couple of months.”
Right. Halloween. Phantom Bayou. She wondered if the town did anything special to bring people here for the holiday.
When the other woman didn’t attempt to carry on the conversation, Erielle pivoted. “My oven isn’t working. Do you know of anyone who can fix it for me?”
“Might go ask Mr. Duval at the general store for recommendations. He seems to know everyone in town. He found someone to replace these windows when they got broke.” She motioned to the glass behind her with her shop’s name,Enchanted Visions, painted on it.
“How did they get broken?” Erielle asked.
Allison shook her head again. “Long story.”
Erielle had nothing else to do, but Allison didn’t seem to want to elaborate.
If Mr. Duval knew everyone in town, and Allison didn’t, she must not be from the area. “You don’t have a Louisiana accent,” Erielle remarked.
“Neither do you,” Allison shot back.
