Page 39 of Out Of A Fix

“Well, this is really something.”

“I hope you’ll be staying,” she said, squeezing my hand.

I smiled at her.

The kids had so many knickknacks on the table that I was worried.

“You’re sure you don’t want any of that?” I asked Griff.

He shook his head. “We all made sure to take things of Mom’s that we all love and have memories of. And we didn’t touch stuff in the basement of Dad’s that’s wrapped in a crazy amount of tape. It’s just all the things no one cares about. And someone is going to want all the crystals and the weird mugs.”

I’d called Locryn’s mother, Sherri Barnes, about the crystals, and we’d ended up on FaceTime the night before so she could see the pieces and suggest pricing.

“Four hundred dollars?” I was stunned. “It’s a big purple rock.”

“It’s a raw amethyst, darling, and a very nice one. Their mother probably paid quite a bit for it.”

“Then maybe I should keep it for the kids.”

“Weren’t the kids the ones who wanted to sell it?”

“Yeah, but––”

“The thing is, stones, crystals, have their own journeys. Much like jewelry that will still be here, on this plane, when we are only memories, they will be as well. Her children are releasing these friends their mother collected to move on to their next incarnation.”

Well, when she put it like that…

“Now, that lovely labradorite tower you have there and the carved moonstone, those are going to be pricey as well.”

“If you want something, I’ll ship it to you.”

“Thank you for that lovely offer, but I have to hold things in my hand and—oh! Angel, do you see those golden stones there?”

“Where are you—yeah.”

“I need you to go bury those in the backyard.”

“Bury them?”

“Yes. That’s heat-treated amethyst.”

“Heat treated?”

“Yes. You can use a blowtorch on amethyst, that purple stone we just looked at, and it will turn yellow, resembling the top of a crème brûlée.”

“Okay. But why are we⁠—”

“Stones vibrate, you understand? It hurts when you burn them the same as it does when it happens to us. And it’s all right if you don’t believe me, but that’s not good to have in the house. It needs to go in the ground and be at peace.”

Which was why I’d buried heat-treated amethyst in the backyard that morning. The rest of the pieces were all priced, and Griff was correct. They flew off the table. I put the amethyst at two hundred since this was a yard sale, after all, and a lady forked over four hundred bucks for the amethyst, a sodalite tower, a carnelian tower, and a green fluorite palm stone. I probably said holy crap too many times, and the kids were thrilled.

We also sold old PlayStation games, Nerf guns, the weird bud vases, and a slew of mugs with witchy sayings on them. One lady nearly fainted because she found strawberry dessert plates that completed a set she had at home. She kissed and hugged Griff.

“That was weird,” he told me when the woman was almost skipping away.

“Not a fan of exuberant affection?”

“No, that was fine.”