Sand Witches in the Hamptons (9781101597385) by Celia Jerome Read Free Book Online

voice, my grandmother added, “And Janie at the salon nicked a mole on the back of Joe the plumber’s head when she buzz-cut his hair, and both of them got the rash. Young Kelvin Junior at the garage broke out after football scrimmage, but the team doctor called it early acne.”
    Everyone in the village had a rash? Pokpokpok. I didn’t want to start any Paumanok Harbor hysteria, not yet. “Why don’t you ask around, see if anyone else has a suspicious skin condition?”
    â€œI don’t have time for that. We have worse problems.”
    I wasn’t sure what was worse than an outbreak of blood-borne irritations, but I asked anyway. “What now?” Last time she had a rare bird at the farm and bird watchers trampling her fields.
    â€œThe All Hallow’s ceremonies might have to be called off.”
    Sure, like a canceled witches’ convention at a pagan holiday mattered more than an unknown epidemic. So what if they called it a fall festival and held it the night before Halloween. “It’s weeks away. A rash isn’t going to keep your friends from coming. Mom swears she’ll be back in time to help.”
    â€œThat’s not it.” Her voice trembled. “We have no place to hold it.”
    â€œOf course you do. The village green, the firehouse, the school parking lot. Even the bowling alley ought to be big enough. Uh, how many wit— That is, how many guests are you expecting?”
    â€œDon’t be foolish. We live in Paumanok Harbor. We always hold it on the beach where we can make a big fire.”
    So they could dance naked under the full moon? I knew better than to ask.
    I didn’t have to. “Which you’d know if you ever spent enough time here the way you should have. We need the beach for the fire and the water to float our blessings.”
    My pen ran out of ink. I grabbed two new ones so I could pok twice as fast. “What’s wrong with the beach, then?”
    â€œThere is no beach!”
    â€œCome on, we have lots of beaches. The one a block away from Garland Drive is perfect. People can park at the farm stand and walk in. I’ll put up signs so they can park in Mom’s yard, too.”
    â€œThat’s what we always did, but the beach isn’t there anymore. There’s a couple of feet of sand at low tide, but that’s it, just a drop-off to deep water.”
    â€œThat can’t be. I walked the dogs on that beach all summer. And there were still tourists and swimmers and sunbathers and joggers past Labor Day.”
    â€œNow there’s swimming, nothing else. As you’d know if you spent any time here.”
    Poketapoketapoketa. That wasn’t fair. I’d been out just a few weeks ago. Granted, Matt and I hadn’t left the house much. Or the bedroom, for that matter, but it rained a lot. We had a great time. We’d made plans to go away for Thanksgiving, just the two of us, no dogs, no issues, maybe somewhere rainy.
    â€œIt’s that last hurricane,” Grandma Eve went on. “Desi, the one that brought the huge tidal wave.”
    We both knew the hurricane didn’t do it, the sea monster N’fwend did. It sucked all the water out of the bay so it could rise up, and up, and up, a vast fluid tornado ready to rush back in and swallow first the cruise ship we used as a war command post, then the whole town.
    Except we vanquished N’fwend before it came to shore.
    â€œThe water came back.”
    â€œBut the sand did not. It’s out there somewhere, where your dragon swept it, clogging the outer harbor. We don’t have the funds to dredge all the way across to Gardiner’s Bay to reclaim the sand and barge it to shore. The experts natter on about inevitable erosion. We cannot tell them the truth, for obvious reasons.”
    They’d put straitjackets on everyone. I added a yellow marker to the pens in my hand. Plok.
    â€œThe Engineer Corps claim that