Alma and Emma snickered into their teacups, and Marigold scowled at them, but they ignored her.
“Milk and sugar,” Myrtle said.
Imogen sighed. “Yes, she’s back to just being Myrtle. That’s all she ever says when she’s Myrtle.”
“I imagine it’s tea time,” Myrtle said, looking into the depths of her tea, which Imogen had poured into a delicate, gold-rimmed tea cup.
The wolf shifter who’d been chopping wood outside came in a minute later, carrying Lainey’s suitcase. “Howdy, I’m Henry. I’ll just put your bags up in your room.” He glanced over at Myrtle. “Hello, Miss Myrtle, haven’t seen you in a while.”
She looked up at him. “I imagine it’s tea time,” she said.
Marigold folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, she did have a vision,” she informed him loftily.
“Sure, she did.” Henry raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Marigold stuck her tongue at him as he left the room.
“My fiancé. He thinks the whole Cypress Woods Witch thing is a myth. He doesn’t have much imagination – except in certain areas.” Marigold grinned wickedly.
A few minutes later, Lainey heard a car pull up. A harried-looking, balding man in a gray suit rushed in, just as they were finishing their tea.
The man shook his head. “Thanks for calling me, Imogen. I don’t know how she does it. Come along, Myrtle, you’ll be late for bingo.” He held out his arm and Myrtle took it.
“Milk and sugar,” she said, letting the man lead her out of the house.
As soon as she was gone, Imogen turned back to Lainey, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “My, my, this is an exciting week for us. Whenever she comes around, something dire happens. Let’s have it, what did she say?”
“Aunt Imogen, please,” Marigold said. “Can we at least let our guest get settled in before we start attacking her with questions? I think your need for gossip can wait five minutes.”
“It most certainly cannot!” Imogen looked shocked at the very notion. She turned to Lainey. “What did she say?”
Lainey appreciated Marigold’s attempt to spare her, but she didn’t mind sharing the strange woman’s words. “It was weird. Something about how I’m going to the wedding, and watch out for the dark cloud and a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Oh, dear. I wonder if we should tell Ginger. Maybe this has something to do with the tiara disappearing.”
“No! That warning could mean anything. I am not having my best friend freaked out right before her wedding,” Marigold said indignantly. “Dark cloud? Could mean it’s going to rain on the wedding day, in which case, the ceremony can be held indoors right there in the Beaudreau mansion. Wolf in sheep’s clothing? Could be a shifter wearing sheepskin. So, we are not going to tell anyone. Are we?”
“Of course not, dear,” Imogen said, looking smug. She hurried out of the room, heading in the direction of the kitchen.
“Why do I get the impression she’s scampering off to tell everyone in Blue Moon County?” Lainey asked.
“Because you’re very perceptive. My great-aunt is best friends with the gossip columnist at The Tattler. Everybody in town is going to know about this by nightfall,” Marigold sighed.
“I’m not going to the wedding,” Lainey added. “Why did the witch say that?”
“Actually, you are,” Marigold said, standing up. “You are going to the wedding. Here, let me show you where your room is.”