Vintage Spirits

Book 3: Midlife Magic Cocktail Club

by Annabel Chase

Genres: Fantasy; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Fantasy; Paranormal; Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Sometimes the dead aren't so silent Julie Duncan never expected to be a fifty-year-old widow living with her domineering mother in the same lakeside house she grew up in.

Winters in Lake Cloverleaf are a gloomy time for Julie. Christmas and New Year’s Eve remind her of her late husband and she isn’t looking forward to yet another holiday season without him. The unexpected death of her mother only adds to Julie’s grief--until a magical cocktail recipe triggers psychic visions of ghosts.

The new year kicks off a new normal for Julie, except she has neither the time nor the energy for unwelcome spirits. She already has an unwelcome visitor in the land of the living—her estranged brother who’s arrived in town to take control of the estate. Brad hasn’t been in their lives for years, yet now he expects to displace Julie and sell the family home, knowing perfectly well that Julie is unlikely to put up a fight.

As Julie struggles to cope with these seismic changes, she encounters more spirits and slowly begins to accept her gift. In learning to use her voice on behalf of the dead, Julie just might learn to use it for herself.

Vintage Spirits is a paranormal women’s fiction novel in the Midlife Magic Cocktail Club series by Annabel Chase, author of the Starry Hollow Witches and Spellbound series.

Release date: April 6, 2021

Publisher: Red Palm Press LLC

Sample

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

It was the afternoon of New Year’s Eve and Julie Duncan sat at the kitchen table, taking advantage of a quiet moment to order groceries for delivery. If she ordered before 5pm, she’d likely snag a coveted morning slot for January 2nd. Her mother was out of cream of tomato soup and Murphy’s Law dictated that Doris would have a hankering for that specific soup if the can wasn’t in the pantry.    

Julie’s gaze drifted to the Christmas tree in the family room as she nibbled on a frosted strawberry Pop-Tart. The tree was a gorgeous blue spruce decorated with her mother’s antique ornaments and lush velvet ribbons. The tree took pride of place in front of the large windows that framed their view of the lake.   

Silently, Julie counted the days until she could take down the tree. She wasn’t a Scrooge exactly, but she found the holidays difficult ever since the death of her husband two and a half years ago. Greg’s cancer had upended Julie’s life and she still struggled with the new normal. She was fifty years old. She wasn’t supposed to spend Christmas alone with her mother. Greg should be here, making his overspiced jambalaya and helping Julie cope with her mother’s abrasive and overbearing personality.

“I’m surprised that mangy cat hasn’t knocked the whole tree down.”

Think of the devil and she shall appear.

Julie turned at the sound of her mother’s voice. She’d hoped to get through this one task in peace and quiet. Doris wore what Julie referred to as her mother’s uniform—a peach-colored robe and plain white slippers. The older woman leaned on a cane and Julie noticed the blue veins protruding from the skin of her hand. Had those veins always been so prominent? Julie wasn’t sure.

“Peggy has been a perfect angel,” Julie said. The cat joined their household in July, after the death of Julie’s friend, Inga Paulsen, the founder of her weekly cocktail club. Peggy had been one of four of Inga’s cats, each one named after the Schuyler sisters, made famous by Hamilton: The Musical. 

“Don’t call her an angel,” her mother scoffed. “She’ll think she belongs at the top of the tree and make the leap.”

“She only looks at the tree. She hasn’t even tried to bat an ornament.” 

“If she breaks one of my baubles, that’ll be the last thing she ever breaks in this house.”

Julie ignored the threat. If Doris truly wanted the cat gone, her mother would’ve forced the issue by now. When Julie first brought the cat home, Doris objected, but the cat seemed to have won her over—inasmuch as anyone could win over Der Kommissar. Each day, Peggy spent hours in bed purring beside the older woman and keeping her warm. Doris was always complaining of being cold, which was the opposite of Julie, whose menopause made certain that she was forever putting out internal fires.

“What are you doing downstairs?” Julie asked. “You know you’re not supposed to use the stairs.” 

“I’ve lived this long. I’ll do as I damn well please.” Doris zeroed in on the remainder of the Pop-Tart in Julie’s hand. “If you keep stuffing your face with junk, you’ll never get married again.”

Julie lowered her hand to her side, no longer interested in finishing her treat. Her mother had a way of ruining even her guilty pleasures.     

“Christmas is over now. You might as well put those presents away and not leave them in plain view of any burglars.” Doris pointed to the handful of parcels under the tree.

“I don’t think a burglar is interested in your new hairdryer.”

“They won’t know what the presents are until they’ve already broken in,” her mother countered. “By then, it’s too late.”

Julie refused to indulge her mother’s alarmist tendencies. “I’ll do it tomorrow afternoon,” she said. 

“Must be nice to be a lady of leisure, living off your father’s pension and my social security.”

Julie gritted her teeth. The only reason Julie didn’t have a regular job was because her mother required full-time care. She would’ve been thrilled to go somewhere else for eight hours a day if it meant a break from her mother.  

“I think if you’re going to insist on coming downstairs against the doctor’s orders that we should move your bedroom down here.”

Her mother glowered at her. “I heard you the last fifty times you suggested it. I’m not interested in a new bedroom at my age. Do you want me to wander outside in the middle of the night and catch my death?”

“You don’t have dementia, Mom. You’d be fine.” Even so, Julie wouldn’t make the suggestion again. It was clear Doris wasn’t going to budge.   

Her mother peered at the computer screen. “You’re ordering groceries now? You should’ve told me.”

“Don’t worry. I was going to check with you before I finished,” Julie said. The main reason Julie bought groceries online was so that Doris could oversee the selection. It was too hard for the elderly woman to hobble around a store and she didn’t trust Julie to buy ‘the right things,’ despite the fact that Julie had been in charge of shopping for years.

“Let’s see what we’ve got so far.” Doris stood so close that Julie could smell her mother’s minty breath. Over the past few years, the older woman had developed a peppermint candy habit. Julie seemed to spend half her day picking up those little plastic wrappers and tossing them into the trash.  

“I’m ordering more cream of tomato soup,” Julie told her.

Doris skipped straight over the soup to the next item. “You’ve got organic milk on the list again. I told you I want normal milk. You have no idea what they’re putting in the milk to make it organic.” 

Julie bit her tongue. She’d tried explain the meaning of organic more times than she cared to count.

“No multigrain crackers either,” her mother continued. “I’ve lived this long without worrying about gluten or whatever else is out there threatening to destroy civilization as we know it. I’m not going to change now.”

No, she certainly wasn’t. 

Julie removed the organic milk and multigrain crackers from the cart. “You should sit down, Mom. You don’t want to get tired from standing too long.”

“I sit all day and night.” Doris tapped her cane on the edge of the table. “I’m not drinking soy milk either.”

“That one’s for me, not for you.” Julie had been trying to cut down on dairy, although she still had a weakness for cheese. At fifty years old, she noticed that certain foods affected her differently than they used to and dairy was one of them.  

“If cow’s milk is good enough for me, it’s good enough for you.”

Julie removed the soy milk before the conversation went any further. She knew if she left it in the cart, Doris would rant for half an hour about Julie’s malleable mind, and how she was always susceptible to the latest fads. Remember when you used Aqua Net by the truckload? Didn’t care so much about the harmful effects of aerosol on the environment then, did you? Julie wasn’t in the mood to be frog marched down memory lane, especially when those memories would be used to shame or guilt her.

“Anything else you’d like to add?” Julie asked.

Doris leaned over her shoulder. “I think that’s it. Thank goodness I came down when I did.”

Julie muttered a string of curses under her breath. Thanks to years of practice, she knew exactly how low to speak if she didn’t want her mother to hear her. 

“Don’t forget I have plans tonight,” Julie said. 

Doris leaned on her cane. “I don’t think you told me that.”

“I did.” She knew it with certainty because Doris had reacted with her usual shock that Julie had a life outside these four walls. “Remember, I said I’m going out for New Year’s Eve, but it’s not far and I’ll make sure you have everything you need before I go.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. I have virtual plans with the other ladies,” her mother said. “We’re going to play poker until the ball drops.” 

“Yes, I know.” Doris had told her about thirty times already.  

“How will I get a refill on drinks and snacks if you’re not here? You don’t want me hobbling downstairs on my own after a margarita. I could break a hip.” 

Julie rubbed her temples. “Maybe you could stick with one drink and one bowl of chips tonight.”

“That’s your plan, is it? To starve me into submission?” 

Julie would’ve laughed, except she knew her mother wasn’t joking. No matter how good of a daughter she tried to be, her mother seemed incapable of seeing her through anything other than a warped lens.

“I solemnly swear to make sure you have everything you need before I leave. And I won’t be out late.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve. You won’t be home until after midnight.”

“It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get home.” Which meant she’d likely be home by seventeen minutes past twelve. 

“Is it a man?”

Julie flinched. “Of course not.” 

“Didn’t think so.” Her mother’s cane clicked across the floor. “I think I’ll sit on the deck for a bit. Make me a cup of hot water with lemon, would you?” 

“Mom, it’s freezing out there today. Don’t sit outside.”

“I’ll be fine. My skin is thicker than an elephant’s hide.” 

Julie knew there was no point in arguing with her mother. “I’ll get your drink ready.” 

She filled the kettle and turned on the gas stovetop. While she waited for the water to boil, she debated whether to change her plans. If Doris didn’t get what she wanted, she had a tendency to make life difficult for Julie in the days that followed. Julie ran through a mental list of her calendar. Was there anything on the horizon that Doris could spoil if Julie chose to go out tonight? Nothing came to mind—except the next cocktail club meeting with her friends. Julie groaned as she turned off the kettle and filled a mug with water. Julie was due to host the next meeting on Friday night, which Doris was sure to ruin if Julie was on her naughty list.

She added lemon to the hot water and hurried to deliver it to her mother before it cooled down. Doris sat on an Adirondack chair that faced the lake, appearing lost in thought. Julie set the mug on the small table beside the chair and admired the view. She’d never tire of looking at the water. It didn’t matter how many years she’d lived here and how many times she’d stood in this very spot. She loved Lake Cloverleaf, even in winter when many of the trees were bare and the sky was coated in gunmetal gray. There was nowhere else she’d rather be.

“Best view in town,” her mother said with an air of satisfaction. 

“It really is.” 

Her mother glanced up at her. “Have you seen the cardinals lately?” 

“No, but I haven’t been watching carefully.” Cardinals were her mother’s favorite type of bird. She loved the way the male’s red feathers stood out no matter the seasonal backdrop.

“The other day I spotted two females and a male. I bet there’s a second male around. They’re always in pairs.”

Unlike us, Julie thought, but didn’t say out loud. Never in a million years did Julie expect to become a widow in her forties. She thought she’d have Greg in her life until they were too old to pluck their own chin hairs. 

“Can I make you an early dinner?” Julie asked.

“I’m not hungry,” Doris said. “Besides, I want to leave plenty of room for snacks tonight.”

“Good idea.” Julie was grateful that she didn’t have to make dinner. Cooking wasn’t her specialty and meals for her mother tended to become more challenging than necessary. 

Doris sipped her hot water. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Libbie is having a small party at her house.”

Her mother blew a disappointed raspberry. “That piece of milquetoast? If you’re going out, at least go somewhere good. Isn’t Kate having a party?”

“No, Kate is going to Libbie’s.” Julie knew her mother was a big fan of Kate Golden. 

“I guess that other one will be there, too. The little Italian.”

“Rebecca. Yes, she will.” 

Her mother harrumphed. “Well, at least you have friends.”

Amen to that, Julie thought, and retreated inside.

 

 

 

 

As much as Julie loved her friends, she found it hard to spend New Year’s Eve with them. Libbie was in a new relationship with a lawyer named Ethan Townsend and radiated joy. Kate and her husband Lucas were stronger than ever. Rebecca seemed content to be single, probably because she was constantly surrounded by animals. She was like a modern-day Snow White. Julie wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to learn that woodland creatures cooked and cleaned for her.

They toasted to the new year as the clock struck midnight and exchanged hugs and kisses. Julie went through the motions with a huge smile plastered across her face, fully aware it was false cheer. Why would she want to celebrate another year without Greg? The whole ‘new year, new me’ concept didn’t appeal to Julie at all. She didn’t want anything new. She wanted her old life, the one with a wonderful husband and a bright future. Now she only looked forward to her weekly cocktail club meetings and the occasional book, although she had to admit even books weren’t helping her escape lately. Ever since Greg’s diagnosis, she’d returned books to the library without finishing them more times than she cared to count.  

“I need to get going,” Julie said, prompting disappointed groans from her friends. “I’m sorry, but you know Der Kommissar. I don’t want to start off the new year on the wrong foot with her.” 

“You shouldn’t feel bad about staying out,” Kate said. “You’re with her all the time. You deserve a life of your own.”

“I have a life of my own,” Julie said, a bit too defensively.

Rebecca regarded her over the rim of her wine glass. “Have you given any thought to that dating app I told you about?”

Julie gave an adamant shake of her head. “Hard pass. No dating apps.” Ever. Julie was willing to roll with the times in most respects, but she drew the line at swiping left and right. With her luck, the habitual movement would trigger arthritis. 

“The days of the setup are over,” Kate said. “Believe me, if Lucas or I knew anyone worthy, we’d have arranged it by now.”

Julie swallowed the last drop of wine in her glass. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m content with my life as it is.”

“Greg wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life,” Libbie pointed out. “You’re only fifty and in good health. You could live another fifty years.”

Julie nearly choked at the thought of living another fifty years. It seemed ridiculous, but Libbie was right. Look at Doris. Despite the cane, she was still going strong—or at least her attitude was. 

“I’m not alone. I have a fulfilling life, great friends…I don’t need a man to be complete.”

Libbie’s cheeks colored. “Oh, I know that. I just mean…”

Julie squeezed her friend’s hand. “I know what you mean, and I appreciate your concern.”  

“What’s your mom doing tonight anyway?” Rebecca asked.

“Online poker with her friends.” 

Kate barked a short laugh. “Well, we know who the winner will be in that game.”  

“Are you kidding? My mother is incapable of a poker face.”

“Oh, I know,” Kate said. “I figure she’d bully the cards into forming the winning hand.”

Julie laughed. “That sounds more like it.”

“Do you need a lift home?” Lucas asked. “I’m the designated driver for us tonight.”

Kate patted his cheek. “Yes, you are and I love you for it.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Julie said. “I didn’t overdo it because of Doris.” Otherwise she’d be trading one headache for another in the morning.

“Happy New Year, Julie,” Libbie said. “I’m so glad we got to celebrate together.”

“Me, too.” 

Julie drove home, catching a glimpse of fireworks over the lake and feeling guilty for not experiencing the same level of enthusiasm as her friends. She wanted to, but she couldn’t quite muster it. Inevitably, something would remind her of Greg and she’d be back to lamenting his death and a life without him.

She entered the house to find Peggy meowing at the front door. The cat sounded distressed.

“What’s the matter? Is it the fireworks?” She crouched down to stroke the cat’s back. “Maybe I forgot to give you dinner.” No, she was sure she’d filled the bowl before she left. Nevertheless, she walked into the kitchen to check. The water bowl was a quarter full and the drops of wet food around the bowl indicated that Julie had, in fact, fed the bottomless pit.

Peggy had followed Julie into the kitchen and was now winding her way around Julie’s legs, still crying for attention. 

“What is it, Peg?” The fireworks seemed to be finished now, although there was always some drunk yokel who tried to set off his own and ended up in the emergency room with missing fingers. 

The cat darted from the kitchen at a dizzying rate of speed. 

Okay, that was strange.

Julie gathered her wits and prepared to face her mother. Fingers crossed that Doris had enjoyed her poker night so much that she’d forgive Julie for going out. Julie would wish her a happy new year and quickly retreat to her bedroom for a fun-filled night of hot flashes and insomnia.    

Peggy was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. Once Julie reached the landing, the cat ran into Doris’s room. She hoped her mother didn’t leave snacks where Peggy could reach them. Peggy was gluttonous enough to lick a margarita out of the glass if left unattended, as they discovered after an unfortunate incident with a rum and Coke.  

Julie poked her head through the open doorway of the bedroom. The laptop was open on the bed beside her and there was an empty glass on the bedside table. 

“Happy New Year, Mom. Do you want me to move the computer off the bed?” 

When her mother failed to respond, Julie tiptoed closer to the bed to close the laptop and move it to the bedside table. Doris must’ve fallen asleep early tonight. Sometimes her mother’s insomnia was worse than Julie’s. It was only when Julie turned back to adjust the sheet that she noticed her mother’s lips were blue.  

Her palms began to sweat as she stared at her mother’s motionless body. “Mom?”

Julie’s fingers curled around her mother’s wrist and felt for a pulse. Nothing. She bent down to check for breath. Still nothing.

“Shit,” Julie whispered.   

Der Kommissar was dead.