Chicory Up: The Pixie Chronicles by Irene Radford Read Free Book Online Page B

hit the wall.
    Dusty frowned. Thistle hated to disappoint her friend. Of all the people in Skene Falls that Thistle had befriended, Dusty had believed in Pixies longest. Well, except maybe for Dick. But Dick was a boy, not a girl’s best friend forever. Like Dusty.
    “Nothing is going on that concerns you,” Thistle finallysaid. She kept her gaze on the cracks in the floor, tracing them endlessly around each square.
Not a lie. I’m not telling a lie
, she reminded herself.
    So why did she feel hot and faint?
    “But it does concern us, Thistle. It affects you and our dear friends who make our gardens flourish. Therefore, we hurt when you hurt,” Mabel insisted. She tried to straighten Chicory’s wingtips. They defied her attention, continuing to curl at the edges. A sure sign that Chicory ailed. Still he leaned into Mabel’s caress, his moans becoming lighter, more rhythmical, like a cat purring.
    “Stop that,” she whispered to Chicory. “You aren’t a cat. Cats are evil. They hunt us and eat us.”
    “Cats hunt
Pixies
. You aren’t a Pixie anymore, Thistle,” Chase said sternly.
    Thistle recognized the pattern of their comments. She’d seen the same thing on the television last night. They called it Good Cop/Bad Cop. Clearly, Chase had elected the Bad Cop role.
    Thistle looked at Chicory. Chicory returned her gaze. They were in agreement.
    “Pixie business stays within Pixie,” Thistle said.
Definitely not a lie
. She still didn’t feel well.
    “Not when my roses are drooping and getting the blight from lack of attention by Chicory and his tribe,” Mabel insisted. “Rosie’s in a snit about something and not holding up her end of the bargain; gardening for sanctuary. So spill it, Chicory, or I’ll deed the place to my nephew. He’ll have it subdivided and sold to developers within a week.”
    “You wouldn’t!” Chicory gasped.
    “Try me.” Who was the good cop and who the bad now?
    “We’ll… we’ll sue,” Chicory replied. “We’ve owned those two acres longer than you have.”
    “Legally, you don’t exist.” Chase crossed his arms, then leaned back in his chair, tipping the front legs off the ground. “There is nothing you can do to stop the exchange of land.”
    “I’d need to run it all by the historical preservation committee first,” Dusty added.
    “What about your will, Mabel?” Chicory asked. Hestood straight and faced Mabel. His defiant posture lacked a little authority because of the sling and the droopy wing edges.
    “I changed it once. I’ll change it again.” Her eyes started to roll upward and her breathing became labored.
    For a moment Thistle thought the old lady might pass out.
    Chase noticed, too. He leaped up and pressed his fingers to Mabel’s wrist, testing her pulse the same way Dick had taught Thistle. “Mabel?” he asked.
    “What? Oh, oh, oh,” Mabel sputtered coming back to herself with a jerk.
    “Mabel, your pulse is rapid and faint. You are having trouble breathing. I’m calling for an ambulance,” Chase said, reaching for his radio.
    “No, you aren’t. I’m perfectly fine.”
    “Mabel, listen to him,” Thistle said. “I know the signs. You aren’t all right.” She clasped the woman’s hands, shocked that they felt cold enough to send a whole tribe of Pixies into hibernation.
    Mabel’s head wobbled forward. “Thistle, promise me you will take care of my house and garden while I’m sick?” she whispered. “You’ll decorate for Halloween like everyone else in town.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “You’ll notify Chase of unusual visitors? Chase and no one else.”
    “Certainly. I won’t let anyone damage your property or steal your belongings.
    “Don’t let my nephew try to sell it.”
    “I won’t. I promise.”
    “Chase, write it up and let me sign it. Thistle is my authorized house sitter and gardener until… until…”
    “There’s no until, Mabel,” Thistle insisted. She moved to stand beside the older woman and