I fidgeted on my stool, thinking about my conversation with Saylor. She’d called herself a Mage, but it seemed like “witch” was just as good a term. And she’d obviously used some kind of power on Cathy Foster and Suzanne Perry. And now that I knew why she’d taken over all of those things, my beloved Cotillion included . . .

“Do y’all know anything else about the Starks? Anything . . . I don’t know, kind of odd? Out of the ordinary?”

Aunts May and Martha exchanged another glance as Aunt Jewel got another glass of sweet tea. “Whole family is strange if you ask me,” she said, frowning. “Saylor appearing in town like she did, with that brand-new baby. And buying up Yellowhammer.”

Right, that had been the name of the Starks’ house. I knew it was kind of dumb.

“When we were growing up, people used to tell ghost stories about that house,” Aunt May mused. “They said a witch lived there a long time ago. Or something like that.” She waved her hand, raining ashes down on Aunt Jewel’s yellow gingham tablecloth. “Of course, you can’t swing a possum without hitting a haunted house in these parts, so I’m sure it was nothing.”

Aunt Martha shook her head. “I always thought it was odd that she didn’t have a husband. I’m telling you, I don’t think that boy is just her nephew.”

“Hush, Martha,” Aunt Jewel admonished. She went back to the table and began dealing cards again. “I’m not Saylor Stark’s biggest fan by any means, but no matter who she is to that boy, she’s done the best she could by him. And he’s turned out nearly as smart as our Harper!” Leaning forward, Aunt Jewel gave me a shrewd smile. “You’re still going to whup him for valedictorian though, right, baby?”

I smiled back. “Absolutely.”

They started to play again, and while I was already about to go into a diabetic coma, I poured myself some more tea anyway. “Are there any other weird things that’ve happened here in town? Not only related to the Starks, but . . . I don’t know. People seeing things. Stuff disappearing, like . . . magic kind of stuff?”

All three of them exchanged a look this time, and then Aunt Martha very gingerly put her cards down. “Harper, have you been doing the huffing?”

“No,” I said, setting down my glass so fast that tea sloshed out onto the counter. I reached behind me for a paper towel and continued. “I was just wondering. For a research project. I’m doing a—a paper on local superstitions.”

Mollified, The Aunts resumed their card game. “Oh, well, in that case, of course there have been odd things,” Aunt May said. “There’s that window in the courthouse that supposedly shows a man’s face if the sun hits it the right way.”