One wet morning in late March, Maggie was in her kitchen heating water for coffee when she heard someone banging on the front door. She crossed cold stone and crossed into the wood floors of the front room.

She pulled the heavy door open and revealed a stranger, a woman of about forty, somewhat portly, the first glimmers of grey hair showing in her short curly locks. At the woman's side was a pony-tailed girl of about ten wearing blue jeans and a pink pinafore top. Maggie recognized her immediately.

"Hello, Maggie?" said the woman. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Phyllis Gregory, Phyllis Simmons that was, we went to high school?"

"Phyllis?" said Maggie faintly. "Of course," she lied.

"Well, we weren't exactly friends in high school, so I'm not surprised you don't remember," said Phyllis. "This is my daughter Abbey. We live down the street in the white and blue house. Say hello, Abbey."

"Hello, Miss Jenkins." Abbey said, looking down and twirling the tip of her pony tail around her index finger.

"We've met before, haven't we, Abbey?" said Maggie.

"Umm, I'm awfully sorry about that, Miss Jenkins." Abbey studied the door frame.

"Yes, you should be," said her mother. "I've brought Abbey to apologize for trespassing into your garden."

"It's really not a problem, Phyllis. I can understand her curiosity; it's not your typical garden."

"And I'm sorry I broke your fence."

"Oh, it wasn't very broken, just a little dented. Would you like to see the garden close up?"

"Whoa, yeah! I mean, could I, Mom?"

Phyllis said, "That is very kind of you. What do you say, Abbey?"

"Um, yes please, thank you, Miss Jenkins."

Maggie led the way through the big old house. To Abbey it seemed as if there was a forest inside the house everywhere, the floors and walls all unpainted wood. In contrast, the kitchen was a recent addition, with a flagstone floor and a door leading into the back garden. Maggie opened the door and Abbey ran out to begin exploration.

"Cup of coffee, Phyllis?"

"Thanks, I will."

Two tall kitchen chairs abutted a butcher block table. Maggie pulled one out for Phyllis. She poured water into the carafe and coffee began to drip through. "Was there something else you wanted to talk about, Phyllis? Seems like an awful lot of trouble for a little dent in my fence."

Phyllis settled into the chair. "I need your help," she said. "Abbey is convinced you're a witch."



Created by KKris. Last Modification: Saturday 03 of October, 2020 16:55:00 EDT by kristin.