Tea Leaves and Trouble: Castor's Resident Witch: The Resident Witch Series, #1

By Anne Marie Lucci-Stahl

Ernie and Zelda start the new school year with expectations of the same old grind. One Saturday morning changes everything, though, when a mysterious neighbor moves in next door. Determined to discover who it is, Ernie calls in reinforcements, in the form of his friends, to do some detective work. They quickly realize that the dilapidated house seemingly changes overnight, leading to even more suspicion.

Will the crew's investigation go a little too far as they delve deeper into the case, putting themselves and the mystery person at risk?

Enjoy this modern-day fairy tale about cottage witches. Join Ernie and Zelda in not only finding out who moved in next door, but how one can truly accept others in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Marie Lucci-Stahl
• Release date: Sep 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215688885

Book preview

Prologue

The rambling ranch house was nestled amongst the trees and butterfly bushes at the end of the cul-de-sac. Vines strangled the lilac bushes, and the chimney paint flaked into the deserted birdbath below. Dirt and dust collected on the thinly paned windows. The dry grass blew in the crisp autumn breeze. The house’s eaves bent sadly, bearing the weight of abandonment. But one thing stood out as the sunlight diminished. The front door was a brilliant color of emerald green. A half-moon window winked from the top, and the brass handle glinted in the descending sunbeam.

I’ll take it, said the diminutive stooped-over octogenarian. Her eyes twinkled with a gleam of mischief as she looked up at the battered gutters.

The realtor’s eyebrows crept towards each other as he scratched his head. Ma’am, you will want to see the inside before you jump into the deep end of the pool.

As he walked towards the front door, he looked over his shoulder. The little white-haired woman stood where she was, feet planted firmly in the front yard grass. She looked up at the slate roof that sagged in surrender and dismay. A crow circled above and found its perch on the light post at the end of the walkway.

No dear, I’m quite right. I’m home.

Chapter 1

The world only exists in your eyes. You can make it as big or as small as you want.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

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Ernie reluctantly rolled out of bed, tripping over a jumble of sheets and pillows… and one very big dog. Bentley stretched his long legs and yawned as Ernie crawled over him, reaching for his robe that had been tossed on the floor. He cinched it around his thin frame as he tripped over his own feet, and he scurried into the hallway. Ernie was always flitting from room to room. Today was no exception.

Come on, Bentley. I smell breakfast. He flew down the steps and headed toward the smell of a thirteen-year-old’s heaven — bacon.

Hearing the racket in the hallway, a curly topped head popped up from the mound of blankets in the room across from Ernie’s. Fists stabbed the air in an early morning stretch. Zelda’s feet found the soft purple rug that hugged the side of her bed. It took her twice as long as her brother to get out of bed in the morning, whether it was a school day or weekend. She was a girl who valued her sleep. Even at eleven years old, she saw the benefit of hibernating. Putting on her slippers and rubbing the sleepy sand from her eyes, she meandered her way down the staircase.

That better be bacon I smell, she mumbled to herself as she descended into the kitchen.

Momma, why do I have to go to school this year? Ernie asked as he wriggled onto the stool at the breakfast bar. His mother’s back was to him as she flipped the pancakes on the griddle.

Honey Bunny, it is where you need to be this lovely time of year, she said. Ernie studied his mother as she adeptly flipped, poked, and stabbed the food with one hand as she held a book in the other. Momma always read as she cooked.

You need not worry about that kind of thing today anyway because it is Saturday, she pointed out as she turned the page of her book. Bentley had found his spot in front of the stove and flopped himself down on Momma’s feet.

Why are we up this early? Zelda grumbled as she took the seat next to her brother.

Momma, peeking over her shoulder, sighed, and simply said, Darling Z, you’re a grumpy one this morning. Momma flipped a pancake onto the awaiting plate. Probably because of the noise coming from next door.

In fact, that morning Ernie was awakened from bed not necessarily from the smell of sizzling bacon, but the sounds of trucks and vans pulling into the driveway and front yard of the dilapidated house next door.

Momma placed a plate of hotcakes, dripping in butter, and a generous side of bacon in front of each child. Ernie did not even bother reaching for a knife, let alone a fork. He grabbed a pancake in his hand, folded it over, and ate it as if it was a taco. He gave it a second thought, stuffed his homemade taco with bacon, and began noshing on his creation.

Your mother gave you a fork, buddy, came a booming voice from the living room. Dad appeared in the kitchen doorway, pulling his polo shirt over his head, and adjusting it down his torso, hurriedly getting ready for work.

But Dad, I am using my human utensils, he stated as he wiggled his fingers around his hotcake taco. I don’t need some man-made utensils.

Dad shook his head. He kissed Momma on the cheek and took his plate of cakes and bacon from the counter; he also grabbed the bottle of syrup. Momma sat in her seat at the counter, wrapping her tired hands around her hot mug of coffee.

Zelda loved her mom’s coffee mug. It was a blue stoneware mug that depicted an old crone witch on her flying broom, her black cat comfortably seated on its bristles. In raised lettering around the old woman, it said, ‘Double, double, toil and trouble.’ It was a relic of Momma’s teaching past. She loved teaching literature classes, which included anything from Shakespeare to old fairy tales. She now stayed home to watch after Ernie and Zelda, occasionally writing research articles to keep her skills fresh, as she liked to say. Dad sat at the kitchen table, eating his breakfast while checking his phone for new texts and emails. His duty belt and boots lay beside him on the floor. Dad currently taught at the local police academy and wore his uniform every workday. Nothing new or urgent, that’s a good start to Saturday training day, he said. Scarfing down the rest of his meal, he simultaneously put his belt around his waist and moved towards his boots. As a former police officer, it was still a habit of his to jump into his clothes and inhale his food. Even with a slower paced schedule nowadays, habits did die-hard.

Ernie wiped his sticky hands on his pajama bottoms and jumped off the stool. He grabbed his plate and licked the syrup off it before he threw it into the kitchen sink. Whistling for Bentley, he ran towards the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, he ran upstairs to change into his clothes for the day. Once he made it into his room, he was reminded why he was up so early. He heard a truck pulling into the driveway next door and walked across his room to peek out the window. There was a definite hustle and bustle on the ground below him. Crates, boxes, and even a few barrels littered the front yard. Two robust men hoisted a steamer trunk from the moving van parked in the driveway, and they carried it towards the open front door. Ernie tried to peek into the front entryway, but all he could see were more boxes. A flash caught his eye as he walked away from the window. He paused to see if he could make out what it was, but Bentley tugged on his robe, pushing him to change his clothes and get out the door for the day.

A few minutes later, Zelda popped her head into Ernie’s room. E, we gotta roll. Carter is waiting for us at the tree, she said as she started back out of the room and headed towards the staircase.

Z hold tight, will ya? Ernie yelled at the descending form as he skittered out of his room and down the steps, following his sister out the front door. As he reached the end of his own porch, he took another peek at the house next door hoping to glimpse his new neighbor.

Zelda noticed her brother dawdling on the porch. She was already at the end of their walkway. Hey, E, what are you doing? Ernie shook his head as he skipped down the steps. Just looking to see who is dumb enough to move into that broken-down heap of a house, that’s all.

Ernie and Zelda walked down the sidewalk together. Zelda busied herself with zipping up her fleece jacket. The weather had already turned from summer to autumn. Where it was 80 degrees in the afternoon a few weeks ago, it had rapidly dropped to 50 degrees in the shadow of the still brilliant sunlight. Neighborhood pools had been purged of their water, and the kids who had crowded them in July were back in classrooms. Thoughts had gone from hot dogs and chips around picnic tables to hot cider and cinnamon rolls around the bonfires. Football games dominated Friday evenings; people either walked to the game or listened to the updates on the radio. Web searches changed from pool toy caddies to pumpkin porch decorations.

They began their quick journey through the maze-like blocks of the neighborhood. As they walked, Ernie continued to look behind his shoulder until their house grew smaller on the horizon and ultimately disappeared.

E, if you keep twisting your head like that, it’ll fall off your shoulders. What are you doing? Zelda asked pointedly.

I don’t know. Something’s weird about that old place, anyway. I wanna know who’d move into it, was Ernie’s simple reply.

They found their way to Carter’s front yard, where he was already waiting for them, looking at his iPad screen. He was fourteen years old — the advisor of the neighborhood. Being the oldest child within a few blocks in any direction, as with any wise sage with his ancient tome of knowledge, Carter always carried around his digital tablet. Ernie and Zelda felt quite privileged anytime Carter regaled them with some of his token bits of history and trivia.

Carter fell into step with the younger kids as they headed towards his backyard. Tucked in the far corner of his yard stood a tall, old oak