Broken Mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own; it was a week after Charley hung it. I could not turn my gaze away.

Chapter 1

Charley had agreed to go to the estate sale with me although he was not a fan.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean, I don’t want to wake up and have some dead person sitting in a chair you bought from an estate sale!”

I laughed at him. My husband was the sweetest guy around and my friends were jealous I had been so fortunate to marry this man with rugged looks of a cowboy model and hands that could sculpt pottery or hang drywall equally well. His stormy gray eyes were drilling into me as which made me giggle hysterically, to his dismay.

“You aren’t going to see ghosts because I buy some antiques, Charley! That is so dumb!” I scolded him, but it was clear he was serious. “All right, I will rethink how many antique pieces we have in our place, OK? Does that satisfy you?”

He shrugged. “Not really. I don’t want any. It’s creepy. I like new things, things I can make that are cheerful and have our energy – not items carrying the energy or karma of who knows what!”

Charley’s mother Frances, better known as Frankie, was a well-known psychic in the area with a wide-ranging clientele. She was an astrologer and numerologist as well, conducting Zoom calls or in-person appointments; some clients flew in on private jets from faraway places to consult with her. Frankie's income was approaching seven figures, far surpassing mine as a management consultant; it surpassed Charley’s father’s income and he was a longtime CEO of an international bank. Charley didn’t have the ambitious drive of his parents and was content to develop small businesses and frequently drew me in as a management consultant at start-up.

Charley had inherited the sixth sense from his mother which prevented me many times from purchasing the antiques that called to me. If he didn't get a spirit vision near the object, I could buy it. His sixth sense seriously limited my shopping.

My husband kept us safe when he foresaw danger; he had nixed several of my choices of houses; he had cancelled several vacations that I had planned extensively; and he frequently saw spirits roaming the streets in confusion after a sudden death. Most unsettling to me was that he told me, after two years of marriage, we would have only one child. No amount of needling got him to divulge the sex of our one and only (per him) yet unconceived child.

“Look, Charley, logically, everything is made from something old or repurposed.

“You are so wrong there, Arly! New furniture is new, from new wood. I am not into the ‘reclaimed’ wood movement. I will compromise. You can have two decorative things, and one piece of furniture that are antique, but nothing with creepy history behind it.”

I scooted close and kissed him on his cheek. “So sweet, Charley, my love! I will take that compromise…for now. By the way, you do know that we can’t always know the history of objects?” He swatted me on my back side, with a wink that clearly said, he would know.

We arrived at the estate sale in time to get entry numbers fifteen and sixteen (my best friend and business partner Ginger was with us). It was a massive four-story mansion built years ago by a famous wood baron. I had always admired the turrets and stained glass windows glimmering above the wrap around porch. Now here I was finally, with the opportunity to go inside. I hoped to talk the estate people into letting me go to the fourth floor, even as I knew my chances were slim on getting a tour.

Immediately upon entering, I saw the one piece I had to take home. It was a French carved large gilt wood wall mirror. I elbowed Charley. “I want that,” pointing. “I don’t care how much it costs, get someone here so I can claim it.” He was fingering the price tag and his eyes bugged out.

“Are you kidding?? It is $2200! Over a week’s salary.”

“I don’t care. I’m buying it. I have my birthday money from my dad and the bonus from work, so only $500 will come out of our joint account.” He glared at me; Ginger was gripping my hand hard. I tried to shake her loose but couldn’t and understood it was a signal not to do it. She knew Charley would be angry for weeks about the insane purchase.

Charley capitulated under my steady gaze and retrieved an estate salesperson; Ginger and I standing guard over the mirror until a ‘sold’ tag with my name was attached.

“We can leave now, right? I mean you blew your wad on that damned mirror, so let’s make tracks!” Charley was pulling me toward the cashier to pay and leave.

“I saw another piece,” I began but he shook his head firmly, the way that means don’t dare argue now. I knew it was in my best interest to pay and leave or he would never agree again to attend estate sales. The clerks at the payment table carefully wrapped the gilt mirror in plenty of bubble wrap, collected my credit card payment (which went through, yay!) and off we went in Charley’s Dodge Ram with Ginger and I yammering non-stop about the gorgeous items in that house.

The outside thermometer showed ninety-six degrees and the weather report said the humidity was seventy-four percent. We walked to the back yard of our abode and Ginger and Charley plopped into the antique wicker chairs. I went through our backdoor into the kitchen to make a speed batch of iced mocktails from ginger ale and mulberry simple syrup poured into extra tall glasses filled to the brim with ice cubes. Outside in our backyard under the giant red maple we enjoyed the shade, somewhat relieved from the hot, sticky air.

The gilded French mirror was ensconced in its bubble wrap in the back of Charley’s Dodge.

Ginger spent the night with us, all sleeping on cots in our basement to escape the heat. When we arose, we savored our morning cappuccinos, expertly created by my gourmet barista husband. Then Ginger and I prowled the house to select a perfect place for my extravagant (who was I kidding - extravagant doesn’t begin to describe the purchase) gilt mirror.

Deciding on a section of the entry hall wall, Charley carefully hung it, ensuring it would not fall. The carving around the mirror was delicate and ornate, and we gazed at our reflections in the mirror, his arms around me.

Chapter 2

Alone in the house, I was frozen at the mirror. A face, not mine, reflected in the mirror, a deep blue-black wave of hair swept to the side. Quivering in sheer fright, I studied the image, its eyes following the trajectory of mine, left to right, up and down, mirroring me. A smile crinkled the edges of its eyes, and I watched its nose wrinkle, at what, a fragrance?

The spell was broken by an incoming text alert. I replied “Ginger, a woman’s face was watching me as I looked in the mirror! My reflection wasn't there – just her face where I should have seen mine!”

“Oh, geez, Arly, your imagination is going to kill us all! Just stop!” she texted back with a scowling emoji.

“I am not imagining it; you have to get over here.”

“Did you read my text? I am parked out front, Silly.”

Ginger slid into the hallway and went to the mirror, smirking at me...and her face froze in horror as she looked at me.

“Who is that? Could this be a magic mirror from a magic shop that got into the estate sale?”

I was shaking my head no and neither of us could break the gaze with the face peering back at us. “Who is she?” Ginger whispered. The face smiled.

“Oh my God, she can hear us!” I squeaked, and reflection nodded. She turned slightly and we saw her entire figure with the turret house in the background.

“Holy shit, Ginger! That’s where the estate sale was!” Ginger grabbled my hand and dragged me out onto the porch.

“So, so spooky! I don’t know how they are doing this, but that mirror is creepy,” Ginger declared.

“Ging, it’s an antique, from an estate sale that was in a house with turrets – you were with us when we bought it!”

“Well you must take it back! Right now!” I was staring at her, not understanding.

“Ging, I can’t take it back, it was an estate sale, they don't take returns.”

“Then take it to Goodwill. Just get it out of your house. That turret house is surely haunted, so probably everything in it is too.

Charley appeared in the driveway and saw our distress. “What’s wrong, you two? You look scared to death.” I dragged him to the mirror. Our reflections were there, not the woman.

“Charley, Ginger thinks the mirror is haunted. We saw a woman’s reflection.”

“I told you not to buy antiques, didn’t I?” He was walking away from me.

“But it shows our reflection now, Charley! Do you have any bad feelings about the mirror?” I was tugging on his shirt to keep him next to me.

I heard a faint sigh as he turned me toward him. My peripheral vision caught a movement in the mirror, the same direction of the sigh. Ginger was behind Charley and pointing at the mirror in terror. I tilted my head to see better and there she was, the spector in the mirror, pointing back at my husband and I, from in front of the turret mansion. I gasped loudly and Charley looked also, his body tightening at the sight.

Charley pushed me away and took the mirror down, setting it face down on the floor. “You get rid of this damn thing today. I don’t care how. I will take it to the dump if you want.”

“No Charley! What about your mom, do you think Frankie could tell us anything?”

“I’m not interested in its history, and no we aren’t asking Mom! I want it out of this house, Babe; it has to get gone, today! Promise me!” I nodded at him, but there was no way I was taking a mirror that cost me $2200 to Goodwill. I would sell it. Charley ate lunch and left; Ginger left to meet with a client.

I was alone again.

Searching online sites to decide where to post the mirror for sale, I saw something in the laptop screen next to my face's reflection. A face. The same one from the mirror, but now she was peeking over my shoulder as I worked on my laptop, watching my keystrokes like a shoulder surfer information thief. My stomach flipped and I gasped, taken aback. She pointed at a word I had misspelled. Oh, hell no! The reflection is correcting my typing? I shut the laptop and laid down on the couch, my arm covering my eyes.

It must have been about twenty minutes and my eyes snapped open. Where was I? I ran it down in my mind: I'm at home alone because Charley is at work; I took a nap…suddenly I jumped to attention.

The laptop was open on our coffee table, yet I knew I had closed it. Heading to get a glass of water, I passed where the mirror had hung prior to Charley placing it on the floor. Slightly crooked, it was again hanging on the wall. What, how could that be? Before I could stop myself, I straightened it and walked away, but turning back when I heard a creaking noise. Once again, it was slanted, raising the hairs on my neck and arms. I realized I was backing up slowly, trying to get away, without her hearing or seeing me.

Opening the laptop, I logged in and my screen desktop was now the turret house from the estate sale with that woman sitting on the porch. My hand unconsciously flew to my throat in fright, and my heart was pounding. “What is happening?” I reached for my cell phone, waking it up, and saw her façade was the phone screensaver. A woman with blue-black hair and mesmerizing eyes stared out, her lips turned very slightly into a Mona Lisa smile.

I locked the phone and set it down. “Dammit, I can’t turn it off unless I unlock it!” Slowly I awakened the phone again and my normal screen saver of the sun setting off the coast of Oregon was there. My breathing calmed, but I sat frozen in place, phone in hand, until Charley came home.

“Hey Babe, I’m home,” I heard him call out from the back door. He came and sat next to me, sensing I wasn’t my normal self. “What wrong, Sweetheart?”

I was stammering. I didn’t want to be a fool in front of him; I had insisted on the purchase of this obviously haunted mirror. “Charley. It is.”

“Huh? What is what?” he replied.

“You were right. We need to get rid of it. I’m going to sell it but you need to put it in the garage. The mirror. Get it out of the house. Now.” He was staring at me.

“Arly, I told you to get rid of the mirror today. Why is it still here and why in hell did you hang it up again!” He was furious, his cheeks red and his hands in fists, but then he saw the tears rolling down my cheeks. Charley pulled me to his chest, stroking my heavy blond hair, pushing it behind my ears.

“It looks at me. She looks at me. From the mirror. And my phone. And then she was behind me when I was on my laptop pointing out typing errors,” I was sobbing my story into his chest, but he heard every word.

Charley’s head spun around, looking for the phantom I described. “There is no one here, but us, Baby. What is going on??”

“It’s haunted. Ginger says that house is haunted too.”

He stood in front of the mirror. I saw his handsome face reflected. Ambling slowly to him, I stood behind him, my head peeking around his arm. Both of our faces were reflected, until it blurred for a split second and I saw her peeking out from the edge, winking at me.

“There! She is there, do you see her? At the right edge, look!!” I was jumping and pointing.

“C’mon Arly, let’s go get some dinner.”

“Cover up the mirror first or take it down.” I stood with crossed arms, feet planted on the gray carpet. I braved a quick glance at the mirror and her long finger was shaking no from the edge, no, no, no, don’t you dare, the finger said. “Hurry up Charley!” He covered the mirror with a blue sheet.

As we opened the front door, the sheet billowed out and the mirror groaned, while Charley shoved me out onto the porch. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Chapter 3

During dinner, I posted photos of the mirror to Facebook Marketplace, listing it at $2400, figuring I might as well get a profit for my trouble. I got two messages asking if that was a firm price and if I could ship it, even though my listing stated no shipping. Jeff wanted to see the mirror tomorrow so I replied that 6pm would work (Charley would be home then).

We arrived home after dinner to a mirror that was uncovered, the blue sheet neatly folded and lying on the floor beneath it. “This is a practical joke. Call Ginger right now!” Charley yelled. I was immobile, my mouth a silent ‘oh’ so Charley dialed Ginger himself.

“Ginger, you have to stop this crap. You are scaring Arly!” I could hear her protesting in ignorance of what his accusation meant. “You are the only one with a key, so I just figured... Arly had me cover up that effin’ thing with a sheet and she posted it for sale on Facebook. When we got home, the sheet was neatly folded and setting on the floor. A mirror can’t fold up a sheet! Who the hell was in our house?”

Charley put the mirror in our detached garage overnight; we made popcorn and watched a comedy on Netflix, but I couldn't relax and barely enjoyed the comedy. He stayed home the next day working on his pottery projects and doing some yard work; I rearranged my consulting appointments for another day. At 6pm the prospective buyer arrived and Charley took him out to the garage to see the mirror. While they were in the garage, I opened my laptop to read the details of the mirror posting. She appeared again staring at me from the laptop screen, wearing a white transparent blouse with a red lace bra. The blouse was unbuttoned to her sternum, and on her chest was a tattoo of a pearl crown of seven large fresh water pearls with Margot written across it. I shut the laptop and began pacing nervously, very anxious for the buyer to take the piece off our property. My normal desktop appeared when I opened the laptop again, so I typed ‘Margot pearls’ into the browser. A bunch of sites with jewelry came up along with designers having the name Margot. Nothing could be found that was helpful.

The buyer came into the house with Charley; he offered me $1900 for the mirror. Charley was behind him nodding yes, yes, yes at me, mouthing 'take it, take it'. I wasn’t sure; I wanted the haunted mirror gone, but didn’t want to lose money on that cursed thing. I cocked my head at the buyer and stood up.

“Let me understand. You want to low ball me on an antique French mirror, is that correct?” My husband stared at me, astonished by my question. I was surprised at my question to the buyer also, my curt tone way out of character.

“Ma’am, I am not intending to lowball you. My wife, Margot, owned a mirror very much like this a few years back. It was lost from our household goods during a move; probably stolen, but we never were able to retrieve it. The mirror was something she treasured for years and she visited many shops hoping to find it and get it back.

I want the one you listed in remembrance of her. Sadly, she drowned while pearl diving in Fiji in a free-diving accident. I would give you more - your asking price, but $1900 is all the money I have in my savings. I can pay the rest, and I'm happy to do so, I just don't have it all today.”

This had to be some kind of prank; I was being punked by him, Charley, and Ginger. And then he opened his wallet and pulled out a photo. “This is – I mean, was – Margot, my wife.”

The photo was an exact duplicate image of the woman whose reflection kept appearing in the mirror.

“What is your name?” I demanded.

“Jeff. Jeff Symondsen.”

“Well, Jeff. You can have the mirror gratis, libre. I want nothing from you - I just want you to take the mirror. Charley, please load it up for Mr. Symondsen.”

Charley was giving me sideways glances, not sure what was going on, but I nodded firmly at him to do it. As he began to load it into the vehicle, I shouted, “Wait!” Walking up to the mirror, I touched the mirror glass and saw my image begin wavering and slowly change. I nodded curtly at Margot’s face and she returned the gesture with a slight incline of her head, her smile revealing a tiny cheek dimple. Charley bundled the mirror in the same bubble wrap used at the estate sale and Mr. Symondsen waved as he drove off.

Chapter 4

Two months later an elderly man punctually arrived at our door, at the agreed upon time from our previous day's phone discussion. He was Mr. Symondsen’s attorney, and said he had a delivery for us from his employer.

“My employer has instructed me to wire funds to your bank account. We must call your bank for the wire transfer information and complete the transaction - I shall then leave.”

“What are you talking about? I gave him the mirror, gratis. We have no further business.” I didn't understand and thought he was coming to give us a thank you card.

“Oh, but there is business. The short explanation is that Jeff, ah, Mr. Symondsen came into a large amount of money, just as his psychic predicted.”

“Psychic?” Charley interrupted.

The man nodded, a slight smile edging his lips upward. “I'm guessing you are Charley? My employer's wife, Margot, was a regular client of your mother Frankie, and he also had some readings with her. Great fortune happened upon Mr. Symondsen, as your mother predicted, and he won the Power Ball lottery. He had forgotten her prediction until he won! No one knows about this except the lottery commission, and you two; well maybe your mother? She did predict it, after all." His shoulders shook with mirth and then he snorted which made Arly and Charley laugh. "I am here to wire seven million dollars to your account today. Charley, your mother will receive a nice bonus for her excellent service over the years. Mr. Symondsen wants to share his good fortune and happiness now that he has Margot back.”

"Seven million dollars? My mother?" Charley's eyebrows nearly left his forehead. "She predicted he would win? His wife Margot was her client?"

"Yes, she did predict it. Seven million is one million for each pearl that Margot had in her pouch when she drowned, seven in total." Then on speaker phone with our bank the attorney completed the transaction. He handed us his card, shook our hands and left.

"Charley, did you miss what he said?"

"Huh?"

"He said Mr. Symondsen wanted to share his good fortune and happiness now that he has Margo back! What in the world does that mean?"

"Don't know, Babe, I'm just happy we are financially secure, so let's not fret, OK?"

Chapter 5

One year later, I gave birth to a ten-pound baby girl. We named her Marjorie Frances (yes, after Margot and Frankie). The doctor told me I was unable to birth any more children, as shame-faced Charley kept his eyes on the floor, knowing his prediction was fulfilled. When Marjie was three weeks old, Jeff Symondsen sent a baby necklace with seven tiny seed pearls. Grandma Frankie placed it into the tea cup Charley sculpted specially for his baby girl. She opened the note inside the gift and read it aloud: The money is a thank you for reuniting me with my one and only love, Margot. We are once again enjoying each other's company and the gilded mirror frames her face beautifully. Congratulations on your baby girl!

Charley and I stared at Frankie in shock, but she just shrugged. "The spirit world is amazing, isn't it?" she said. We watched our baby grasping her grandma’s finger, a dimple showing as she smiled in her sleep. “We’ll save the tea leaf readings for a few years, Dear,” Frankie earnestly told Charley.

“Ma,” Charley began, but Frankie shushed him.

“Marjie has it, Charley. Her destiny is clear.”

We gazed at our baby and saw the truth glowing in her stormy gray eyes, open now and examining us. “No more antiques, my love,” Charley whispered against my hair. I squeezed his hand tightly.