Crazy Thing (The Brighton Family #5)

Chapter 1

1

ZIGGY

Honey Hill, Iowa

“ M y gosh, Ziggy. That was better than an 0rgasm !” The town librarian rolls over in the grass, flinging her arms out at her sides.

My favorite bartender, Jane, stares up at the sky with a dopey, breathless grin on her face. “Agreed. I feel like I just had the best sex. But without all the saggy balls and the boob sweat.”

Everyone laughs.

“I feel like I just ate like, three gummies,” another voice chimes in. “I feel more relaxed than I have in years.”

“Me too! Today’s session was ah-mazing .”

“Yes, girl. Seriously. Thank you, Ziggy. Thank you.”

Stretching my limbs and drawing to my feet, I grin proudly. “The pleasure is all mine, ladies. And Joanne’s, apparently.” I toss out a wink and the ladies laugh.

I just finished leading a meditation workshop at the local park, right around the corner from my metaphysical shop. The vibe here is sooo good. The end-of-summer breeze. The beaming sunshine. The sounds of nature and of little kids yelling their heads off at the playground in the distance.

I’m still smiling to myself as all of my attendees climb to their feet and gather their things to leave. This workshop had a great turnout. At least ten guests joined me for today’s session, and every one of them seemed to find their inner peace during our meditation practice. In my book, that’s a win.

Although my measly bank balance would strongly disagree.

As I stand barefoot in the grass, saying goodbye to the participants and doling out hugs,I’m loving the after effects of this session. I would meditate all day if I could, focusing my attention on my inner world. Unfortunately, the outside world has this annoying habit of getting in the way of my bliss. But I digress.

Being my own boss is a gift. I mean, how else could I justify spending an hour of my day lying on a yoga mat in the grass, grounding myself, easing stress naturally, and reaching a higher consciousness?

I may not be making the big bucks but at least I’m blessed with an enjoyable work life. I’m thankful to have found such a fulfilling career. I write about it in my gratitude journal every single night. I get to do something I absolutely love and it pays the bills.

I glance across at my small tip jar that’s sitting beside my yoga mat.

Shit. It’s empty. Again. Not a single dollar bill or coin sits inside.

The smile tumbles off my face. My gut clenches with a sharp, sudden twinge. Uh, well…maybe I shouldn’t dwell too much on the ‘paying the bills’ part .

I hosted this meditation seminar for free, on an at-will, tip-what-you-can basis. Yet, here we are at the end of the session and no one is tipping.

I don’t want to ruin the vibe by begging for handouts as my participants prepare to leave. But if I want to keep enjoying the benefits of self-employment and keep doing the work I love, something’s got to give. It’s now or never, Ziggy.

“If everyone could leave a donation in a size of their own choosing, that would help fund future sessions.”

There’s some grumbling among the small crowd and discomfort trickles through my veins. But I hold on to my outstretched tip jar—and my prettiest smile—as the women amble past me.

They turn their pockets inside out, dropping their loose coins and lint in my sad little tip jar. Someone even leaves a peacock feather and wishes me good luck.

Oh lord.

When everyone has left the park, I fold up my yoga mat and make the short walk down the block and around the corner, back to my metaphysical shop. The familiar fragrance of essential oils and dried herbs greets me when I push through the door, making me smile again.

I love this place.

Divine Treasures may be tiny and cluttered and a bit chaotic. But it’s mine. It tells the story of the colorful, little life I’ve cobbled together for myself in the years since I left my hometown of Starlight Falls. This shop is my shining pride and joy.

I make my way through the crowded aisles, taking my tip jar to the counter. I dump out its meager contents and count up the change.

Eighty-three cents and a pretty blue feather .

A whimper leaves my lips. I guess I could add the feather to the trinkets on sale in the basket at the cash register and try to get a whole nickel out of it.Even then, I still wouldn’t have made a single dollar today.

My stomach clenches again. I've been suffering from some tummy problems lately. It almost feels like anxiety. But anxiety? Me? That’s not like me. Usually, meditation would clear that right up. Not these days, though.

I’m generally an optimistic girl. But these days, it’s hard not to feel disheartened. I’m not in this business for the money but still, I’d like to feel appreciated for my efforts, to know that I’m making an impact, to not have to worry about how I’ll cover my essentials.

All I want is security. That doesn’t seem like too much to ask.

Setting my newfound riches aside, I turn toward my stack of mail. I try to hold on to the after effects of my meditation. Only, my mind is not so clear anymore. I already feel a dip in my mood.

I really should ignore the mail until tomorrow if I want to continue riding the high of my meditation. But considering I recently spent three weeks in Arizona participating in a spiritual retreat, I can’t really afford to take any more mental health days.

One of the envelopes stands out to me. I rip it open and find a letter from the landlord of my metaphysical shop. My spirits sink a bit lower with each line of text I read.

Oh no. Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no . This has to be a mistake.

It’s a notice of non-renewal. According to the letter, Mr. Jones is not going to renew my lease since I’m a tad behind on the rent.

Okay, fine. Not a tad behind. I’m very behind.

He’s nice about it, at least, apologizing a half dozen times throughout the letter. He likes me, he says, but things can’t go on like this. He has bills to pay, too.

I stare at the letter until the words go blurry from the tears clouding my eyes. I drop my face into my hands and let out a tired sigh.

“Come on, Ziggy,” I mutter to myself. “You know better than this.”

There’s a solution. There’s always a solution. The universe always presents a solution…Right?

Dropping my weight against the front display case, I flip over the envelope and grab a pen. I search my brain, considering who I might be able to turn to for financial help. I scribble down a few names and I’m not liking my options.

Aunt Rainbow recently loaned a whole bunch of money to my little sister, Daphne, when she was opening up her vintage clothing boutique. So I really don’t want to ask my mother’s sister for help.

As for Daphne, she’s still neck-deep, repaying that very same loan. On top of that, my sister and her fiancé, Felix, are busy planning their dream wedding. So showing up at her door, looking for a hand-out is out of the question.

Then there’s my brother, Timothy. But all he and his boyfriend, Zack, ever talk about is how they're struggling to save up to get out of their tiny shoebox apartment.

My snooty parents are out of the question. Despite being annoyingly rich, they’d never lend me a dime. I’m the black sheep of the family. Too spontaneous. Too whimsical. Too impossible to control. The few times a year when I make the mistake of going to visit them, they’re always on my case about cleaning up my bohemian appearance and finding a rich husband. So, I already know they’d never help fund a business venture they disapprove of.

I have a group of amazing friends, but I can’t ask them for help either. I’m the spiritual one. The one everyone comes to for answers and guidance. I’d die of embarrassment, having to admit to my girls that I have no idea what I’m doing financially.

I go over my list of options again. I don’t see any other choice. With another sigh, I swallow my pride and pick up my phone. I scroll through my contacts and tap on Aunt Rainbow’s name.

It doesn’t even finish ringing once before I hear my aunt’s voice on the other end.There’s a frantic note in her voice that instantly sets me on edge.

“Ziggy! I’m so glad you called, moonbeam. You must have tuned into my telepathic S-O-S.”

“Oh, um, did I?” I stammer, caught off-guard.

Aunt Rainbow speaks in a rush. “You need to get to Starlight Falls. Now. We need your help.”