It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, her four thousand four hundred and thirty-second Saturday afternoon. Olympia Blanchard was eighty-five, but her mind hadn’t slowed down for a second. She was the eldest of her kind in her family, so that made her the wisest. She was sitting on the front porch which wrapped around their large twenty-three room country house. At three stories tall, not including the tower room, the Blanchard house was one of the largest homes in Daihmler County, Alabama. It was on this land where courageous farmers, armed with only their tools and very few rifles, did their best to ambush Yankee soldiers marching their fiery path through Alabama during the Civil War. The ambush did not stop the soldiers whose orders were to burn every landmark and building of prestige, but it is remembered as a courageous endeavor, nonetheless. Although if truth be told, the Confederate Blanchard’s of the time were running a secret stop on the underground railroad. Jebediah Blanchard and his wife Nancy helped 17 slaves get to the north. And it happened on Blanchard land. Olympia was proud of her home and heritage—most of her heritage.

            The soft cushions of the white wicker rocker helped her to relax, as the scents of flowers whiffed by in the quiet breeze. The morning glories climbed high and proud, wrapping around the columns of the porch, displaying a regal shade of blue. Another vine twisted alongside the morning glories, a vine of moonflowers which would open a cascade of white brilliance at nightfall. Around the porch grew her roses, gardenias, and hydrangeas. A few feet away stood her six tall magnolias, emitting perfume all the way to the pool area beside the house.

            She grinned whenever she thought of the pool. The grandchildren had insisted upon that monstrosity. It wasn’t natural to dig a hole in the ground and pour concrete and chlorine water in it. Olympia tried to tell them to walk down to the stream if they wanted to swim, but they just had to have a swimming pool. Sinclair had put that dreadful thing in against her wishes. But he’d never been able to say no to the grandchildren, she remembered smiling. He’d loved them as if they’d been his very own. And they’d all adored him.

I should go inside. It’s hot and I have been out here too long.   Olympia rolled her eyes. Will they never learn?

“Demitra,” she whispered into the breeze. “Come here.”

            Moments later a woman of around forty appeared in the doorway, her raven hair curling gently off her shoulders.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Dear, will you and your sister ever figure out that though I am old, I am still not weak enough for your mind games to work on me.”

“Sorry, Mother.” Demitra smiled. “But it is too hot out here for you. You should come in where it’s cool.”

“I know this old body better than you do my Love,” Olympia replied. “I want a few more minutes out here in the sunshine with my flowers.”

Demitra took a seat in the empty rocker beside her mother and enjoyed a little of the summer’s gifts herself. She paused between rocks and asked, “Tell me, mother to mother, how do you differentiate between your own thoughts and implanted ones? I never learned to, and the girls were always doing it to me as teenagers.”

“No, they weren’t my Love,” Olympia chuckled, much too pleased with herself, remembering those long-gone days when her daughter’s daughters were younger.  “That was me.  You were much too strict with them.  They needed some freedom.”

“So, it was you who would plant those thoughts in my head about dropping curfews and letting them date early!”  Demitra gasped, but in truth she wasn’t a bit surprised by this revelation.  “You are unscrupulous Olympia Blanchard!”

Olympia patted her daughter’s hand. “It was strenuous on you, Baby. Raising children alone is never easy.”

“You managed fine.”

“Honey, if I’d managed fine then Artemis might be married with children of her own, and Nacaria might not have ruined her life the way she did.”

Demitra smiled consolingly, “You did the best job raising us that anyone ever could do. One single mother with three adolescent witches to raise had to be its own kind of torture. At least I had you and Artemis for help.”

The old woman laughed out loud. “Yes, it wasn’t easy to remain one step ahead of you three girls. This white hair of mine used to be the loveliest blonde.”

“You amaze me every day, Mother. Always did. Like the mind whisper thing. I could be at a friend’s house, and I could hear you speak to me. And you always knew when we were lying to you. I know you’re going say it’s because you’re a full witch and we weren’t, but I don’t buy that. Salem and Seth are full witches, but they can’t do all the things you can do.”

“Demitra, Demitra, so full of questions. Your mother is old and wise in the ways of the earth and despite your lack of assuredness, so are you.”

            The tranquility of the moment came to an abrupt end as Seth Blanchard came tearing up the driveway in his white truck. He’d barely stopped the vehicle before he bounded out, bolting up the porch steps to his grandmother and aunt. The sunlight streaming onto the porch accentuated his sandy blonde hair.

“Guess what? Guess what?”

“Slow down Seth,” Demitra replied. “What on earth is so important? If this about how much you bench pressed at the gym again, we’re not that interested.”

“They finally agreed to come to dinner!”  Seth exclaimed, lifting the end of his red tank top to wipe a little sweat from his brow.  “After all my invitations they finally agreed.”

“Who?” Demitra asked.

“His young girl and her father, I am presuming,” Olympia answered.

“Yes!” Seth beamed. “Vanessa and her father.”

“Oh,” Demitra frowned, cutting her eyes to her mother. “The reverend that hates us.”

“He doesn’t hate us!” Seth cried. “He’s just nervous about us. But he’s agreed to come for dinner to meet the family. If all goes well and we win him over, he’ll stop giving Vanessa a hard time about dating me.”

            The screen door opened as two women, different in ages, stepped outside to the porch.  The first looked very much the same as Demitra, only her raven black hair reached her hips rather than stopping at the shoulders.  This was Olympia’s eldest daughter, Artemis.  The younger woman accompanying Artemis looked like a fresher copy of the sisters with short, wispy hair.  This was Demitra’s daughter Fable.  The sunlight streaming onto the porch cast shadows on the white plank board wall of the house.  Artemis and Fable’s shadows were not alone.  Between them hovered a third shadow but there was no figure on the porch to cast it. 

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“Seth, are you on fire or something!” Artemis Blanchard scolded, sweeping a bit of flour out of her hair. “I have a cake in the oven.”

“Where’s Beryl and Yazzy?” Seth asked.

“Beryl is still making her rounds at the hospital,” Fable Blanchard answered. “And Yaz is assisting Howard with some depositions.”

“Oh, I forgot she took that job at his office,” Seth replied. “Well, call them and tell them to be on time for dinner tonight. And everyone is to be on their best behavior. No one is casting, using their powers, or in any way even referencing witchcraft tonight.”

“You don’t get to order us around Seth Blanchard!” Fable shouted. “I don’t care who is coming to dinner, we don’t have to change ourselves for anybody.”

Olympia waved a hand to shush her granddaughter. “Fable, your cousin is just excited because he wants to make a good impression on his girlfriend’s father. You have to admit we Blanchards are a lot to take in. Reverend Collins has certainly heard about us in town since they moved here last winter. I don’t think Seth is asking a lot. Simply that we not be too in their face about our way of life tonight.”

“Thank you, Hecate,” Seth grinned. “Now if we can just get her to stay upstairs tonight.” As he spoke, the third shadow on the wall of the house darted to the open doorway and disappeared into the house.

“Don’t speak to her like that!” Demitra snapped.

“Everyone, calm down,” Artemis said. “Seth- you come with me to the kitchen, and let’s figure out what I should feed your sweet Vanessa and her father. If I remember correctly, preachers always used to like fried chicken.” They left the porch together as Fable took a seat atop the wooden porch railing.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Vanessa Collins is not even right for Seth. Why we have to go through the motions with her and her father is beyond me.”

“We love Seth,” Demitra told her daughter. “He had a very hard time when he lost Susan. It wrecked him. He’s done nothing with his life but work out like a fiend and fail college classes. The fact that he appears to care for this Vanessa so much is important. It might put him on the right track. We will do as he asks.”

“Yeah, but we all liked Susan,” Fable said, remembering her again after so long. “We all went to high school together. Susan was the best.”

“And if she hadn’t died in that jet skiing accident the summer after graduation, Seth probably would have married her,” Demitra pointed out. “It’s taken him a while to get over that, and he’s dated some doozy mistakes since. This thing with this Vanessa seems different.”

“He’s too young to get too serious. I sure hope he doesn’t plan to marry this girl,” Fable scoffed. “Marriages don’t work out too well in this family.”

“Your father and I had a perfect marriage,” Demitra exclaimed. “And Mother and Sinclair were very happy.”

“Then I’ll restate my comments.” Fable sneered. “Spouses don’t live a really long time in this family.”

“Well, that is certainly the truth,” Olympia laughed. “But I’ve always felt that love, no matter how short-lived, is always worth experiencing.”

As she shut off the computer, Yasmine Sinclair swept back the same unruly brown curl from her eyes that never seemed to grow out long enough to tuck behind her ear. She glanced around at the tiny little office. It needed a woman’s touch. Now that she was working here, she’d make some changes. Plants, pillow cushions on the waiting room sofa. Maybe she’d even give the walls a coat of paint. Howard Caldwell may be a great personal estate manager, but he wasn’t the best decorator in the world. Gathering some papers from the printer tray she gave a quick rap on the door to the connecting office before walking inside. Howard was at his desk, busy with the latest mutual fund reports. 

“I finished the Carson file. Now I’m hungry and ready for a swim. Wanna come back to the house with me?”

Howard looked up from his work and smiled at his lovely assistant. “Actually, I do. Your grandmother called and invited me to dinner a few minutes ago.  My car hasn’t come back from being serviced yet, so I’ll ride home with you and Uber back later. Now, go down and start the car and I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Oh goody,” she laughed. “I get to sit in the hot sticky car until it cools off enough for you to come down.”

“That’s what I pay you the big bucks for,” Howard winked.

            Howard watched her go and then slipped on the blazer which had been hanging on the back of his chair. Yasmine was the best assistant he’d ever had. His office was in shambles after his last assistant quit to marry the FedEx delivery man who knocked her up. Ironic, since he had suspected all along, she’d only taken the job in his office to try and meet rich clients whose wealth he managed. It all worked out for the best. He now had Yasmine. She was organized, friendly, smart, and best of all she did not mind working weekends when necessary. Her work ethic was a nice surprise. When she had asked him for a job, he’d only hired her as a favor to her grandmother—or step-grandmother as it were. It was the best favor he’d ever done. If he was not twenty years her senior, he might even allow himself to fall in love with her.

            Yasmine drove to Blanchard House while Howard replied to a few urgent emails from his phone. She was a good driver. He’d actually taught her himself just a few years ago when she turned 16. He’d taught her cousin Fable too, a couple of years before that. After Demitra’s husband Larry Mariner died, Howard did his best to step in to be the surrogate father figure for all the Blanchard grandchildren.

“I need to speak to your grandmother tonight about her accounts,” Howard said once he had sent the final email. “Some of her investments need revisiting.”

“Please do not try to talk her into that oil company again,” Yasmine laughed.

“Oh, I learned my lesson the last time. It is not easy making sure none of her investments cause any harm to the earth. That is one of the things I need to discuss with her. One of her holdings has just cleared a section of rainforest.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-Oh’s right,” Howard grimaced. “So of course, now she’ll insist on selling. But the worst part is her refusal to do anything with your grandfather’s money. It just sits there.”

“You’ll never get her to spend that money.”

“I don’t want her to spend it,” Howard replied. “I want her to invest it.”

“You know Grandmother’s reasons,” Yasmine answered.

“Yeah, but they are preposterous reasons.”

“Maybe so,” Yasmine sighed, “But they are her reasons and it’s her money. I’ve lived with her for fifteen years and I’ve learned a lot. She’s a pretty smart cookie. I wouldn’t be so quick to scoff at her principals.”

“Oh, I’d never be fool enough to scoff at Olympia Blanchard. I admire her. She is a woman of wisdom and substance. But as her financial advisor, it burns me up that she is sitting on a fortune she’ll do nothing with. Not to mention the millions she’s wasted over the years.”

“I wouldn’t call it wasted,” Yasmine declared. “She’s just using it to right the wrongs she feels Granddaddy’s company committed to the planet while he was alive.”

“That woman has spent years making restitution where none is needed. Your grandfather was a brilliant businessman. But it is her money. At least she set aside a sizable amount for you.”

“Not to change the subject,” Yasmine said, making the turnoff towards the Blanchard property, “But why did you get invited tonight? Friday night is your typical dinner night at the house.”

“Is it so unbearable to have to dine with me two nights in a row?” Howard laughed.

“No, of course not. It just seemed last minute.”

“Well, my little sidekick,” Howard chuckled, “It seems Seth’s girlfriend’s father finally agreed to come to dinner to meet the family. I guess I am going to be the conservative normal man to the mix. Imagine a preacher at the table of the Blanchard coven. Should be an interesting night.”

“Should be.” Yasmine replied softly. She stared down the road as she drove. Her silence was telling.

“How is this sitting with you, Yasmine?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know very well what I mean. You have a thing for Seth. You aren’t very good at hiding it.”

“I do not have a thing for Seth. I’m very happy with the man I’m seeing.”

Howard sneered. “Yes, the man you’re seeing. Do you realize you never describe him any other way?”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Yasmine, you never once have referred to Jake as your boyfriend. Just the man you’re seeing.”

“That’s only because we haven’t reached that serious a level yet.”

“You’ve been dating for two months!”

“I’m just not quite sure yet how I feel.”

“And that’s because you are in love with Seth. Always have been, always will be. He’s just too dumb to realize he loves you too.”

“We are cousins. That’s the only way he sees us,” Yasmine replied.

“Not blood cousins.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she explained. “When Granddaddy married Olympia, we were all small. They loved him like he was their real grandfather, and they love me like a real cousin. Seth has never thought of me any other way. I figured that out when he fell in love with Susan in high school. Then after she died, he wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship. I guess now he is, and its Vanessa.”

“But if Seth were with you, he could be himself. He can hardly be a Blanchard around that preacher’s daughter.”

“We will see,” Yasmine grinned. “But I’ll be honest with you, Howard. If I had any Blanchard blood in me, I’d zap that girl to Timbuktu faster than you could say ‘Abracadabra!’”