Mrs. McGee's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Mrs. McGee spread her grandmother's letters across the kitchen table and admitted she was chasing a ghost. The heirloom had been stolen from her family four generations ago and hidden somewhere in Stardust. She had traveled two days to get here. She still did not know what the thing looked like. The letters contradicted each other. One called it a locket. Another called it a key. A third mentioned only "the piece that shines under water." Mrs. McGee pressed her thumb to that line. Her poodle sat at her feet, watching her face the way he always did when she went quiet too long. "Russell," she said, "if I walk past it, I've come all this way for nothing." She pulled on her boots and took the letters with her. The innkeeper had mentioned three places tied to the old stories: a ruined tower choked in ivy, a cave the locals called a fairy's hiding spot, and a pond ringed with mushrooms where children were told not to swim. Mrs. McGee started with the tower because it was closest. Ivy had swallowed the door. She found nothing inside but bird nests and broken stone. The cave came next. Shelves inside held bottles, crystals, and trinkets left by strangers over the years. Mrs. McGee sorted through them with shaking hands. Every piece could have been the heirloom. None of them felt like it. Russell whined and refused to come inside. She left with a headache and no answer. By late afternoon she reached the pond. Toadstools crowded the bank in every color. She sat down in the grass and opened her grandmother's letters again. "The piece that shines under water." She read the line three times. Then she looked at the pond. Russell pushed past her before she could stop him. He waded in up to his chest, sniffed the surface, and barked once at his own reflection. Mrs. McGee stood. In the flat water beside him, she saw white flowers mirrored back at her. She turned. Behind her, half hidden in the mushrooms, someone had left an arrangement of calla lilies in a stone jar. Fresh ones. Someone tended this place. Someone knew the story too. Mrs. McGee knelt by the flowers. A folded paper was tucked among the stems. She opened it. The handwriting was not her grandmother's, but the sketch on the paper was clear: a small oval pendant, cut glass, with a lily pressed inside it. She finally knew what she was looking for. She also knew she was not the only one looking. Russell shook pond water from his coat. Mrs. McGee folded the sketch into her pocket and stared at the fresh lilies. Whoever left them had been here today.