Wake Up and Spell the Coffee Read online

  Wake Up and Spell the Coffee

  Enchanted Enclave Mystery #1

  Samantha Silver

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Also by Samantha Silver

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  I woke up on the morning of my first day at my first ever job anxious and ready to go. I had no idea what a nightmare it was going to turn out to be, or that it was going to result in my life being completely turned upside-down.

  I’d gone through a lot of life changes, recently. I graduated from college three months ago, and the day after he watched me cross that stage, my father died of a heart attack. Dad had raised me by himself after my mother died when I was a baby, and his death hit me hard.

  A part of me didn’t want life to keep going. A part of me wanted to continue hiding under the blankets, crying, and wishing things were different every day until it was finally my turn to go. But I knew Dad wouldn’t have wanted me to live that way. He would have wanted me to go out and make something of myself, to live my dreams.

  That was how I had ended up here, working as a receptionist at a small physiotherapy office in a local mall. It certainly wasn’t me living my dreams. It wasn’t even a job I wanted, but it was a job, and frankly that was fine with me for now. I wasn’t sure I could mentally handle anything more complex than answering the phones, making appointments and handling payments for people, so when I was offered the position I decided to take it.

  I arrived ten minutes early that morning, wearing my best pair of black slacks and a dark purple blouse. Despite the fact that I had just turned twenty-three years old, I had never actually had a job before.

  Dad had always insisted that he pay for my entire education and living costs – it helped that I was able to live at home while going to college – so that I could focus on my studies. I was very aware of just how lucky I was to have a father both willing and able to do such a thing for me, but as a result, while all my peers had experience working everywhere from McDonald’s to the local library, I had an extra layer of nerves to deal with. There was no denying it: I had lived a sheltered, coddled life, and I was now nervous going out into the real world for the first time.

  I knocked on the locked front door, and a moment later a perky woman in her late twenties with way black hair and friendly round eyes opened it up for me.

  “Hi, you must be Elizabeth,” she said, holding out a hand. “I’m Emma.”

  “Call me Eliza, please,” I replied, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” she said, motioning for me to enter. I did as she requested and looked around. Oasis Physiotherapy looked very clinical, with white-painted walls and a shelf against the wall on the left displaying various items for sale – kinesiology tape, ankle wraps, knee braces, slings, that sort of thing. The wall to the right featured various awards the place had won, as well as framed photos of athletes, signed along with messages of thanks for ensuring the athlete in question was able to return to their sport of choice after an injury.

  Straight ahead was a long reception desk, with a couple of chairs behind it.

  “So most of your job here is going to be to answer the phone,” Emma told me as she motioned for me to follow her behind the desk. “Most of the calls are either to make appointments, or asking about the services we offer. Our job also involves setting up the physiotherapy rooms for the next clients, but I figure it’s best to let you master the stuff behind the desk before I show you that part.”

  “Thanks,” I said gratefully, sitting down in one of the chairs and looking at the computers. “So this is the appointment system?”

  “That’s right; let me give you a quick crash course on how it works.”

  Twenty minutes later I was feeling somewhat confident in my ability to schedule an appointment, but when the machine rang and Emma motioned for me to pick up, I still froze for a second.

  “Go on,” she said kindly. “You’ve got this.”

  My hand moved toward the phone as if someone else was controlling my body. The next thing I knew the handset was pressed against my ear.

  “Hell-hello?” I said slowly, my mouth feeling like it was full of cotton balls. At the last second I realized that was absolutely not the greeting Emma had taught me, and I added it on quickly. “Thank you for calling Oasis Physiotherapy, how can I help you this morning?”

  Emma gave me a thumbs up as she sat down in the other chair, and my confidence began to grow from there. I had successfully uttered a single sentence without messing it up too badly. When, a couple of minutes later, I had successfully made an appointment for the woman on the other end of the line, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment. Maybe I wasn’t going to be the worst person ever at this whole ‘having a job’ thing after all.

  The rest of the morning passed by uneventfully as I got increasingly comfortable with my job, and eventually my heart even stopped skipping a beat every time the phone rang.

  “You’re a quick learner,” Emma told me approvingly after a couple of hours. “Good job.”

  It was right after I came back from my break, at around one in the afternoon, that everything went nuts.

  A woman had come in, along with her son who looked to be about six years old. He was carrying one of those individual-sized cartons of cereal, and dropped it on the floor in front of the reception desk. As the cereal spilled out on the floor, the boy burst into tears, his mother immediately picking him up and consoling him. I jumped up, looking over at Emma.

  “Where’s the broom?” I asked instinctively, and she pointed at the storage cupboard next to me. I opened it and grabbed the plain wooden broom and dustpan. I had to fight back tears at the sight. One of Dad’s weird quirks was his hatred for brooms. He had never allowed them in the house, insisting that vacuum cleaners, a mop and a Swiffer were all we needed. I had never understood why he was so opposed to brooms being available, and pulling this one out of the closet now made me think of him, and how much my life was changing now that he was gone.

  But no, I couldn’t dwell on that fact. I blinked back the tears and tried not to think about my dad. I had to keep it together, or my new coworkers would be convinced I was a crazy person and I’d be let go before I knew it.

  Instead, I focused on cleaning up the spilled Raisin Bran on the ground.

  “It’s ok, buddy,” I said to the little boy, who gazed up at me with big, black eyes lined with red. Obviously, losing his cereal treat was the worst thing to have ever happened to him in his short life. I flashed him the kindest smile I could, and he sniffled once before trying to smile at me in return. It appeared the worst of it was over.

  The broom felt a little bit strange in my hand, almost like it was buzzing with energy. But that was ridiculous; it was a broom. Brooms didn’t have energy. I knelt down to place the duster on the floor, and as soon as I did, the broom began to move on its own.

  “What the-?” I called out in surprise as the next thing I knew the broom was pulling me alo
ng the floor.

  “Eliza!” I heard Emma shout from the counter, but it was too hate. I was being dragged toward the doorway and out into the main entrance to the mall. The broom was picking up speed with every passing foot, and I had no idea what to do.

  What on earth was going on? A part of me wanted to let go, but I was somehow frozen. My hands wouldn’t obey my brain as I began zipping through the mall attached to a broom that was flying around as if by magic. A squeal of fear escaped my lips as the broom darted around surprised shoppers who appeared as barely more than blurs in front of my eyes. Startled passersby stopped to watch as the broom dragged me along, my feet glancing along the floor as it floated through the expansive hallway toward the escalators.

  Fear rose in my throat as I was dragged closer toward it. Was I going to crash right into it? I had to let go. And yet, my hands wouldn’t let go of the broom. Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the inevitable thud which never came. When I finally dared to open them once more, I let out another yelp.

  The broom had gone straight ahead instead of taking the escalator up or down, and I was now hanging about twenty feet in the air, above the food court. Shocked diners stood and pointed as the broom began flying in a circle in the atrium above the dining area, with me now clinging desperately onto it for dear life. If I let go now, it was going to be a long fall onto the ground below.

  Rather than imagining myself pitching to the ground and dying a gruesome death surrounded by old trays and KFC wrappers, I swung my legs upwards and wrapped them around the broom for extra security. The broom then did a quick barrel roll before spinning around on itself and coming to a stop, floating in the air, and I found myself sitting on top of the broom, clutching onto it for dear life like the world’s most terrified and incompetent witch.

  Multiple security guards wandered underneath me, looking upwards, obviously at a loss of what to do. “Ma’am, we’re going to need you to come down from there,” one of them called up toward me.

  “I can’t,” I shouted back. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Look, I don’t know what kind of trick you think you’re playing, but Halloween was months ago. Please come down from there.”

  “I’m telling you,” I cried, panic rising in my voice. “I have no idea how. I don’t know why this is happening. Help me.”

  “Alright, we’re going to call the fire department, and they’re going to come and get you. Hold tight.”

  Oh, I was definitely holding tight. My knuckles were white and my ankles were locked together so tightly the firefighters would need the Jaws of Life to get them separated. Why couldn’t I have let go of the broom earlier? I never would have found myself in this situation.

  I began to cry as the onlookers gawked at me and dropped my head down out of shame. To my immense surprise, the broom began moving again, and I shrieked as the shame was replaced with a new wave of fear as I held on for dear life. The broom swept downwards, plummeting toward one of the dining tables. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see what was about to happen, but at the last second the broom leveled out, sweeping straight through the table and sending glasses of pop, French fries and burger wrappers flying everywhere. The family sitting at the table let out a shout as they did their best to escape the carnage, while my brown hair now dripped with Coke, and I was fairly sure there were a few fries stuck in it as well.

  The broom took a left and headed down the main hallway. Shoppers plastered themselves against the wall as I zoomed past, before finally reaching the elaborate, two-story high fountain in the center atrium of the mall. The broom zoomed straight underneath the thick current of water, soaking me to the bone, and the shock of the cold water caused me to let go of the broom.

  I fell straight into the fountain, the cold water bringing me to a quick stop, but pain still seared through one of my arms as I hit the edge. I inhaled sharply, sending fountain water down my throat, and spluttered it all back up, arms and legs flailing around like a baby giraffe on its back. When I finally regained control of my body I was sitting on the bottom of the fountain in water that almost reached up to my shoulders. My wrist hurt like crazy, there were French fries in my hair, and dozens of people gawked while mall security rushed toward me.

  The broom that had caused this whole ruckus floated in the fountain next to me like nothing had happened.

  And yet, it had happened.

  What on earth was going on?

  Chapter 2

  “Excuse me miss, you’re going to have to come with us,” one of the security guards said to me. I looked him up and down. He was older, probably in his fifties, with a beer belly that was more keg than pint glass. His thumbs were pressed into his belt loops, and he stuck out his stomach like he thought it made him look more intimidating.

  The other security guard was a scrawny-looking man who looked to be about my age and obviously couldn’t have cared less about being there. He looked around casually.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” the first guard replied. “That’s what they all say. And yet here you’ve caused all this mischief, and ruined one family’s lunch. Mall management will be pressing mischief charges, so come along now. Steven, grab that broom, as well. It’s evidence. I’m sure we’ll find a motor or something inside.”

  The other security guard made his way to the fountain and reached toward the broom, obviously trying to grab it without getting his shoes wet. My mind swam as I considered what the security guard had just told me. Charges being filed? I was going to be arrested? But I had no idea what had even happened. None of this was my fault. I looked over at the broom as Steven grabbed it, but nothing happened. It was just a normal, plain old run-of-the-mill wooden broom.

  This could not be happening to me. It was my first day at my new job, and now I was going to be arrested? There had to be a mistake. I would go with the security guards, I would explain to them what had happened, apologize to the family, and then everything would be fine.

  Except I didn’t know what had happened. All I knew was that as soon as I had grabbed the broom it had dragged me along for the worst ride of my life.

  “Come on, let’s get going,” the first security guard muttered. “What are you, slow or something?”

  I followed after the security guards, completely humiliated as shoppers gawked while I walked past, their eyes boring into me. My water-logged shoes squished with every step, and my clothes dripped onto the tiles. The only good thing about the water was that it masked my tears of complete and total humiliation. Thankfully, I hadn’t wet my pants. That would be the only thing that could make this embarrassment any more complete.

  I had considered running away, trying to make a mad dash for the door and hoping that no one would ever find out who I was, but of course, Oasis Physiotherapy had all of my personal information. Mall security would be able to find me easily, and if I fled now, even if I managed to get away, it was only a matter of time before I’d have the police knocking at my door.

  Going with the security guards and begging for forgiveness and mercy seemed like the best way to go.

  “Come on, keep up,” the first guard scolded as I trudged along after them. One of the bystanders caught my eye; I looked up to see a short woman who looked to be in her fifties. Her formerly brown hair was now liberally speckled with grey, and despite her short stature she had a way about her. She stood out in the room, and her brown eyes twinkled at me. The corners of her lips seemed to flicker up into a bit of a smile, but I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or supporting me.

  I made my way past her and followed the two security guards into their office. It was small, with two chairs behind a double-length desk, and a third chair sitting against the wall. On the desk sat a box of a dozen donuts; eleven of them were left.

  “Great, do you have to spill water all over the floor? Steve, go get a mop, this is ridiculous.” I wanted to sit down, but I had a feeling the se
curity guard wouldn’t like me getting the thin cloth layer on the chair against the wall wet. “So, what kind of stupid prank did you think this was?” he asked me, plunking himself down in one of the chairs behind the desk. The chair wheezed, obviously struggling under the man’s weight.

  “I swear,” I pleaded. “I have absolutely no idea what happened. I work at Oasis Physiotherapy. Today was my first day. I just grabbed the broom to clean up a mess and the next thing I knew I was flying through the mall. I don’t know what happened. Please, you have to believe me. I’m so sorry for all of this. I don’t know what happened, I really don’t.”

  The man sighed, then glanced up at me without moving his head. “Seriously, lady. I really don’t want to deal with this today. The cops are a phone call away. Just tell me what happened, for real, and maybe we can make a deal.”

  “A deal?” I asked. I so desperately did not want to get arrested for this. I was only twenty-three years old. I had my whole life in front of me. A deal sounded absolutely amazing.

  “Yes, I think we can organize something. How about you pay for the damage you’ve caused here today, and we can just let the whole thing slide under the table. How does that sound?”

  “Great,” I said, practically shouting from excitement.

  “Calm down, calm down. Geez. Look, I think we can all agree you cost this mall a lot of money. Why don’t we call it an even thousand? You give me that in cash, right now, and you can walk out of here.”

  The excitement I’d felt a moment ago drained from my body. A thousand dollars? I didn’t have that kind of money. All of the estate stuff with my dad hadn’t been settled yet – although immediately after he passed I had been given a few thousand dollars by his lawyer as an advance for living expenses - and since I’d only graduated a few months ago and hadn’t started working yet I was running pretty low on funds. I had a few hundred bucks to my name, but I certainly didn’t have a thousand.