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Chapter One
Believing in magic doesn’t make it any less elusive…
Alina McAllister glanced around the over-stuffed cottage that was to be her home for the next few months. She took in the sloped roof that narrowed into a window seat abounding with lacy, hand-embroidered throw pillows in soft pastels. Scuffed wooden furnishings crowded the front room, but, oh, how she loved the tiny tables with their graceful Queen Anne lines. Antique glass cases of collectibles invited further inspection. Framed daguerreotypes decorated walls. She could nearly believe she’d stepped back in time to the early 1900s.
Magic, if that was possible, hovered in the air.
Loving the coziness of her surroundings, Alina sat on the classic curved back art nouveau sofa across from her hostess, not quite ready to relax. She kept her hands clasped politely in her lap. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m thrilled to be able to learn the docent scripts so far ahead, and I can’t wait to learn about the community. Honestly, Hazel, renting me a room in your home until the job starts and I can get settled into a place of my own next year? You’re a life saver.”
The small round-faced, elderly woman in a bright red beanie chuckled. “No, dear, that would be you. You’re my life saver.”
Rain pounded outside, spattering the windows beyond the old-style shutters on Camellia Cottage, Hazel Bestwick’s home, built in 1914. Long green and red tapers were lit and flickering in wall sconces as a nod to the holiday season. A jaunty sprig of mistletoe was secured to the frame above the arched entryway, and Alina wondered how her diminutive hostess had managed to hang it. Alina paused for just an instant to imagine herself in the arms of a tall, dark-haired man standing under that mistletoe. She shook her head to clear it.
Lights dimmed, threatening a power outage as the rainstorm surged and drenched the tiny town of Hazard before brightening back up. Alina’s mood, too, dimmed a bit from her long journey but rose back up with the lights. She was determined to stay positive.
She needed this to work out. Before heading across the country, she’d felt like she’d come to know Hazel well from their online communications, but the reality of what she had taken on was daunting. And Hazel, who she had determined to be a force and an energetic one at that, looked more like a frail old woman tonight.
Alina stifled a yawn. Grateful for the hospitality, she refused to appear rude, but the gabled guest room upstairs beckoned. Hazel had given her a tour when she first arrived. She couldn’t help but be enchanted by the old cottage, finding herself especially charmed by the attic full of old furniture and hope chests, no doubt filled with all kinds of treasures. Alina was certain decades of history could be reclaimed to add to the Hazard Historical Society’s efforts at preservation.
“I wish I could have tidied up a bit more for you,” continued Hazel, her brow furrowed as her eyes wandered over the crowded sitting room.
The house was run down in the way of many homes of the elderly, but it didn’t bother Alina one whit. A bit of cleaning and a lot of sorting would set it to rights. “Nonsense,” she said, pleased to have discovered a way to bless her new landlady. “I’m delighted to make myself useful, especially with this little love.” Alina stroked the sleek, black cat, curled and purring in her lap.
Traveling cross-country from California to Rhode Island in her iffy little car for a job with the Hazard Historical Society had been a nerve-racking adventure. She started the journey with a new motto: Do it with confidence. That confidence, however, had almost—almost—flagged on the trip out here when her radiator overheated in Utah, followed by a flat tire in Indiana, and her alternator quitting in Ohio. She’d nearly depleted her entire savings just to get here.
Was it a bad omen? Was she making a terrible mistake? Or was this the miracle that she’d prayed for? With the blustery storm rattling the windows and Alina tucked up safe and warm, she was counting on that miracle.
In fact, since losing her last job, she was desperate for it.
Hazel leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially, “Meeting you in that museum chat room was serendipitous.”
Alina grinned at the older woman’s turn of phrase.
“I’m certain you being here is just as it’s supposed to be, my dear. I used to give the mansion tours myself, you know, but these old knees can’t take all those stairs anymore.” She patted Alina’s hand. Alina squeezed hers back, concerned at the dry papery feel of her skin. “It was past time to hire more help,” The elderly president of the historical society continued, “Hearst Castle’s loss is our gain. I don’t know how they ever let you go.”
Alina bit back her sigh. She knew, of course, why she’d ended up on the chopping block. Her dyslexia made it impossible for her to compete for the new positions when her usual tour section closed for renovation. She couldn’t learn new scripts fast enough, and she’d never been one to claim she needed special consideration. When her correspondence with Hazel led to a surprising job offer and a place to stay over the Christmas season, Alina had jumped at it.
The only catch was she needed to learn all the scripts before her docent job started mid-January. Four scripts for four separate mansions, all pages and pages long. She wasn’t even sure she could do it, but the historical society here was small. She was only the second docent they had hired. They needed her available for each of the tours, so she had to try. Besides, she was flat out of other options, and being homeless in winter was a terrifying thought.
“How are you coming on the first script? The one on my Gilded Age beauty Sundial Sands? It’s my favorite.” Hazel’s deep blue eyes twinkled. “I wrote it myself.”
“It’s…coming. I worked on memorizing it on the trip here. I love learning how the Gilded Age affected Rhode Island. But I especially love how each mansion in Hazard reflects a different historical era and architecture: Gilded Age, Art Deco, Georgian Colonial, and American Federal Style.”
“It’s one of the qualities that makes our town unique.”
Alina nodded. “I’m especially curious about the Hazard Blessing.”
“Ah, now that’s a fun bit of mystery. The blessing goes back even further, back to the time America declared her independence. It’s not quite clear if the blessing was first spoken by my ancestor Captain Edwin Hazard, or his one true love, but we do know it was originally set to music. We recently discovered a second verse to the blessing. And we do know that the blessing originated about the time young Prudence Worthy fell in love with a British officer garrisoned in her home. Prudence was born in Hazard and had been brought up to value American independence, but she nearly betrayed the cause when she eloped. It was my ancestor who saved the day and that’s why the town was renamed to honor him. Before that it was known as Mischief.” Hazel’s eyes sparkled with a bit of that mischief.
“Is that because mischief can be hazardous?” Alina laughed.
Hazel chuckled. “You tell me after you hear the tale.” The lights dimmed again as Hazel spoke. “Prudence’s father, Franklin Worthy, was one of the town’s leaders. He and his family lived in what is now called the Worthy Inn, but back then it was a stately, family home. The blessing came into effect during the Revolutionary War. In fact, I know I have some items around here that date back to that era.” Hazel glanced vaguely about her, appearing confused, before shaking her head slightly. “British soldiers were garrisoned in many of the homes which caused tremendous strife and friction. Not everyone was loyal to the crown. We were mostly a town of rebels, but couldn’t let that be known.”
“Oh dear,” said Alina and grinned.
“While the soldiers were stationed in his home, Franklin Worthy was secretly working behind the scenes—smuggling supplies, grain, guns, and ammunition to the American rebels. His lovely seventeen-year-old daughter Prudence abided in the house with him. She was an only child, and her mother had long since passed. British soldiers had taken over the first floor for their operations, all their planning and such. They slept on the second floor, and the family was allowed to keep their third-story bedrooms. But the family’s cook prepared all the meals. The soldiers all ate together downstairs, three times a day, week after week, along with the family. So, you can imagine how it was only natural that young Prudence would fall in love with a handsome British officer. Quite the scandal, of course, falling in love with the enemy. Her father did not approve, but he dare not let that be known for fear it would alert the British to his clandestine activities.
“Legend has it that the redcoat was honorable and planned to marry Prudence, so they could return to England to start their lives together. It’s said he believed the American rebellion would fail. Prudence, with all the idealism of youth, was certain the rift between America and England would heal. Yet, even after tragedy struck and it was clear their young love was divisive, they clung to one another.
“During the same time, Prudence’s cousin on her mother’s side, Edwin Hazard, fell in hopeless, head-over-heels love with the daughter of an English nobleman. She was to be betrothed to a wealthy ship builder to restore the family’s fortunes, but was here visiting her brother. Knowing her father would never approve their union, they did, in fact, marry secretly in the little chapel at the end of Main Street. And I will have you know that their union has had a lasting effect on this community.”
“I love how everything is connected.” Alina leaned forward, unwilling to miss any of the story, then cast a worried look up when the lights dimmed a third time, but Hazel didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s said that the love of these two couples led to all the key elements of the blessing.”
“How does it go?”
“Thou who loveth, / Be blessed amongst us. / With breath bestoweth / Thy heart. / Thou who dwelleth, / Find home amongst us. / With heart bestoweth / Thy song.”
“Oh, that’s just lovely.”
“I like to believe that speaking the blessing can mend what’s broken, but mostly it’s said that speaking the blessing over an object infuses it with the power to transform lives.”
“That’s the part I like best, about the charmed objects of Hazard.” Alina gave a little bounce where she sat, then sought to contain her childish enthusiasm.
“Yes, well, not everyone believes in the magic of Hazard.”
Alina gave her hostess a soft smile and shifted uncomfortably. Did she believe? She wanted to. Still, it was a delightful, magical tale certain to please tourists. She would study the scripts and hoped to find it included. Perhaps she could convince Hazel to let her alter and improve on them, once she learned them verbatim, of course. But first, she needed to buckle down on the first script, Sundial Sands, for the stately Gilded Age manor house that looked out over the coastline with its own private beach. Of all the mansions of the Hazard Historical Society, it’s the one that captured her imagination.
After hearing this latest edition of the town’s heritage, she looked forward to visiting the Worthy Inn too. Of course, it was too cold to explore much of the town right now. For now, it was enough to stay inside amidst over-stuffed chairs, lace doilies, and tea cozies while poring over the scripts.
“Here, let me get a fresh pot of tea.” Hazel struggled to rise.
“I’ll do it.” Alina jumped up to aid her hostess. She carried the silver tea tray to the low-ceilinged kitchen—the china teapot, crystal creamer, and sugar bowls rattling gently. She set about boiling fresh water to add to the flowered teapot, refilled the sugar bowl, and added more cream.
Her hostess certainly liked her tea light and sweet. Alina preferred hers black. She found a large cookie jar in the shape of a gingerbread house and added fresh ginger crinkles with red and green sprinkles to the tea tray, along with a bit of crusty home-baked bread and butter. She wanted to do what she could to take care of Hazel. She felt spoiled here, like she’d gone back to simpler days.
All that, of course, was perfect for now, with the miserable weather and the short dreary days. The black cat twined around her ankles and mewed its displeasure at its empty bowl. Alina frowned. She tilted her head and studied it. “I don’t think you’re the same cat,” she said. “Or are you? You’re just a tad bit fluffier, I think.” She set out some cat treats, enough for two cats, and the fluffy black cat pounced on the treats, gobbling and purring simultaneously as Alina collected up the tea tray. Stepping carefully, she returned to the sitting room to find Hazel asleep. She paused—something about the angle of Hazel’s head was off. Tiny hairs rose on the nape of Alina’s neck.
“Hazel?” Alina balanced the tea tray against her hip. With her other hand, she reached out to rub Hazel’s shoulder. At no response, she shook her hostess, just a bit. “Are you all right?”
Hazel blinked up at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were garbled. Alina dropped the tray on the sofa and dived for her cell phone to dial 911.
“Emergency services.”
She quickly relayed all the relevant information and sat to wait, tea tray forgotten. Doing her best to make Hazel comfortable, she held her hand and prayed.
When the EMTs arrived, Alina tried to stay out of the way, shutting the cats up in the kitchen. As the EMTs carried Hazel out on a stretcher, she reached and clasped Alina’s hand. She tried to speak, but couldn’t get out any words.
“I’ll take care of everything, Hazel. I promise,” Alina told her. She followed the EMTs to the doorway and watched as they loaded Hazel in the ambulance. On the porch, wind whipped across Alina’s face while the rain plastered her clothes tight against her body. She stared after the ambulance for a long time after they drove away. No way did she dare follow in her lame car in this weather. She shut the door and turned to find both cats sitting in the middle of the room, amber cat eyes staring at her.
“Didn’t I shut you two in the kitchen?” Alina set about cleaning up the tea tray, the spilled tea, the crumbled cookies. She mopped up the sofa with a hand-embroidered tea towel and carried everything into the kitchen where she nearly tripped on the two sleek black cats underfoot.
Disaster barely averted, she plopped the tray on the counter and plopped her hands on her hips to stare at the two identical cats at her feet. When the door was nudged open by a tiny black paw from the front room, she frowned. “Oh dear, just how many cats do you have, Hazel?” she said to herself just before the lights dimmed once more and the house went dark.
End of Excerpt
