Title: The Welcome Sign

Author: Barbara Jean Weber

Publisher: BookBaby

Pages: 218

Publication Date: July 1, 2024

Genre: YA/Fantasy

Formats: Paperback, Kindle

When 10-year-old Molly Parnell’s grandmother mysteriously disappears she and her mother travel to Cape Cod to take ownership of the house they inherited and find out answers about the sudden disappearance. But what they discover could be more dangerous and life changing than they ever imaged. Molly and her mother find a beautiful mermaid welcome sign in the attic and place it on the front door. Unusual things start to happen and they are flooded with visitors who claim they knew the grandmother.  The true powers behind the mysterious sign are revealed as Molly learns her grandmother was part of a secret organization working to keep balance between the magical realm and the real world. The magical realms placed an invisible veil of secrecy over the world to hide their true identities from the human world but allowing them to live among them  in secret. An angry rebel group of magical beings, tired of living in hiding is tearing down and destroying the magical cloaking fabric between the two worlds. If they are not stopped the magical realm will no longer be safe from the world.  As Molly and her mom embark on a dangerous and magical adventure throughout the magical realms to help stop  the rebels, she learns of her own magical powers and her strong family heritage connected to the welcome sign. Along the way, she teams up with new magical friends helping to keep the realm of magic safe from the eyes of the world and discovers that her grandmother was right all along. The world she thought she knew no longer exists, but an amazing world of magic woven into their world has always been hiding  in plain sight.

The Welcome Sign is available at Amazon.

First Chapter:

Popular Bluff

NINE-YEAR-OLD MOLLY PARMELL, THE ADVENTUROUS, BROWN haired girl, sat quietly on her bed as her cat, Cuddles, sat purring in her lap. Molly adjusted her braids, shivered, and pulled her cozy pink sweater closer around her shoulders. She looked lovingly down at her orange tabby cat and scratched his head. The roof creaked and groaned loudly from the gusty winds of the storm, and Molly cringed, thinking the roof might actually blow off the house. A low rumble of thunder boomed in the distance, and Molly glanced up as a continuous “drip, drip, drip” noise splashed into a half-full pan of water in the corner of her room. Huge flashes of lightning lit up the room, creating odd shadows over the walls. The falling rain created thunderous pounding sounds on the roof as it poured relentlessly from the sky. The creaky old house was cold and drafty, and the chill in Molly’s room hovered in the air like a thick smoke. Molly rubbed her arms and shivered again. She hated this creepy old house and couldn’t wait until they could move into one of their own.

It was a cold and stormy October day in the town of Popular Bluff, Missouri. Popular Bluff was set among the majestic foothills of the Ozark mountains, which were replete with spring-fed streams and breathtaking lakes. It was a great place for fun outdoor activities; however, there wasn’t much to do there on cold rainy days. Molly didn’t particularly enjoy these chilly fall days when the sky was dark and cloudy and the trees were losing leaves. The house was dark, eerie, and very creepy. Molly looked thoughtfully out the window at the constant downpour. The few leaves that still clung to their branches were covered in the bright, fiery shades of yellow, orange, and red. Fall at the Parmell house meant that the fireplace was ablaze with the warm glow of firewood, and Molly and her mom would devour large mugs of hot chocolate with extra-big

marshmallows. In front of the fireplace was the only real warm spot in the house on dreary days like this. Molly sat back with a sigh, glanced around her bedroom, and frowned at her nippy surroundings.

Molly and her mother rented the rundown modern style, two-story house with a large front porch. It needed a fair bit of work, but it had been available and cheap. It had been almost five years since the horrible car accident that had taken Molly’s dad, Michael Parmell.

He’d been on a business trip when the fateful accident claimed his life. Molly and her mom missed him terribly but thought of him often. There were photos of them as a family throughout the house.

After the funeral expenses had been paid, this leaky old house was all they’d been able to afford. It was very drafty and needed a new paint job inside and out, new carpeting throughout, mending on the porch railings, multiple patches in the ancient roof, and a real fence with a working gate. The fence right now consisted of five rickety and warped old stakes attached with two cross stakes that leaned over so far that any day now they’d be resting comfortably on the ground. The railing on the staircase was loose, and the stairs were warped and weak. The roof leaked everywhere, and the house was falling apart from corner to corner. On rainy days like this, buckets, pans, and anything that could hold water littered the floor throughout the house, catching the cascading water as it dripped off the ceiling.

Their landlord, Mr. Garreth Simmons, was a nice man in his mid sixties and had been a stable and solid part of their lives for the past four-and-a-half years. Molly had lost her real dad when she was only five years old. Mr. Simmons was more like a father figure to her than a landlord, really. He would spend lots of time telling her wonderful

stories of his adventurous youth and teaching her all sorts of new things, explaining how and why certain gizmos worked, and answering lots of life’s little questions. The three of them were a real family, and Molly knew she’d miss seeing Mr. Simmons regularly if they moved, but the house was driving her crazy.

Due to the extensive repairs that were needed, Mr. Simmons had shown leniency and charged Angela and Molly an exceptionally generous and affordable rent each month. In fact, it was hardly any money at all. Angela had insisted that he take more, but he’d refused. The best she could do was offer him hearty home-cooked meals several times a week. Mr. Simmons gladly accepted that offer at least three nights a week. He had planned on tearing down the old structure but recognized a family in need. He wasn’t a good repairman, however, so the damages to the house were slow to get repaired. Although the house needed a great deal of help, it was home for Molly, at least until they could afford to buy a home of their own. She’d miss sweet Mr. Simmons but just couldn’t wait to move out of this dreary, shabby place.

Whenever Molly got frustrated with her decrepit surroundings, she’d think back to the fun-filled summers she and her mom had spent with her grandmother on Cape Cod. Every spring, Molly would get excited as she thought about the long trip they’d be making in a few months over to the Cape. Early in the summer, Molly and her mom would drive two hours to the nearest airport in Memphis, Tennessee, and board the airplane for the seven-hour flight to the Barnstable Muniboardman/Polando Field Airport in Hyannis, Maine.

They would spend several weeks with her grandmother in the beautiful town of Barnstable, soaking in the salty sea air and having endless adventures. There were always wonderful new things to do and see when she went to visit her grandmother.

Grammas’ house was heaven for Molly. It was a large, white, two story, Victorian-style house with a dark-green trim all around the windows and doors. There was always something new to discover and explore in that huge house; new nooks and crannies she’d never found before. A long, covered porch wrapped all around the house, lending itself to a fabulous view of the ocean in the distance.

On the second level was Molly’s bedroom, with a door that opened onto a smaller covered porch. The room was decorated with delicate little seashell patterns on the wall trim just above the chair railing two feet off the floor. The smoky-white curtains had sandy-colored, embroidered shell patterns scattered here and there on the fabric. Several glass bowls sat on the old dresser by the wall, filled with brightly colored seashells. Over the dresser hung a large mirror with a crooked tilt to one side.

There was a large seashell-shaped lamp by the bed, the paint chipping off on both sides. Her mom’s room was right next door and was filled with dashes of blues and greens. A large lighthouse lamp sat on the bedside table. Molly loved turning it on and off and watching the lighthouse light up at night. Her mom’s room had several lighthouse-shaped candles and a big ship’s steering wheel on the wall above the bed.

Gramma’s room was downstairs, next to the staircase, and opened up onto a small deck overlooking the ocean. Her room was decorated in purples and pinks. Several elegantly painted fish and sea creature wall hangings covered the walls. A few large and

impressive-looking shells were also showcased in this room. From every window in the house there was a spectacular view of the ocean. The peaceful, melodious music of the waves crashing on the shore was soothing and relaxing. Molly always looked forward to

hours of staring out at the sea with her mom and grandmother.

Molly’s favorite thing about her grandmother’s house was the alluring mermaid/merman statue that sat on a side table in the living room. The elaborate statue featured an exotic mermaid with long, brown, flowing hair. She was draped in different shades and shapes of green seaweed. Pearls and shells were set elegantly in her hair. A

handsome young merman swam next to her. He was powerfully built and had long, brown hair that was carved to look like it was suspended in the ocean. The aquatic beings were glancing happily at each other. Both had a hand placed on an intricately carved, purple colored trident. The whole statue stood about two feet tall and was

painted to look realistic. Every line, every detail, was perfectly crafted, shaped, and painted. The tails were a shiny blue-green color, inlayed here and there with mother of pearl, and each shiny scale was carved to look like the real thing. The whole statue

seemed to be covered in a light pearlesque coating and shimmered as you passed it. At the base of the statue were several large, colorful, coral-covered rocks made to look as if they had come right from the bottom of the ocean. Molly had half expected to see real

fish swimming up from the reef. A small hole was cut into the head of the trident, about the size of a large marble. Molly remembered her grandmother saying that she had lost the marble some years before but had decided to keep the statue anyway. Molly had been

truly mesmerized and intrigued by the sculpture because it was so realistic and appeared to be a miniature version of real merfolk. Molly loved daydreaming about the undersea world and imagined  these two merfolk as her guides to the watery realm.

The view of the ocean from Molly’s porch was breathtaking, and she loved keeping the windows of the guestroom open so she could hear the gentle splashing of the waves on the shore and feel the cool ocean breezes on her face. A beautiful rocky area just off to one side held massive pillars of rock formations. Molly imagined merfolk from the depths of the sea coming to play there in the crashing waves at night when the shoreline was dark and the land dwellers slumbered.

Gramma had sand and sea glass in pretty containers; fishing floaters arranged on the table; dried, woven seaweed baskets filled with seashells; and a fishing net hung delicately on the wall surrounded by all kinds of hand-painted sea-creature decorations.

She had several giant clamshells, delicate corals, and other shells of enormous size displayed in a cabinet. There were sea objects everywhere you looked; there were even sea-creature-shaped soaps in the bathrooms. Gramma loved everything about the sea and proudly displayed that love in every corner of her house. Molly swore that the old sea chest in the living room was a real pirate treasure chest brought up from the bottom of the sea.

Barnstable was a magical place, and every summer Molly enjoyed beachcombing with her gramma and mom while listening to her gramma’s fanciful stories about the sea. Molly never fully understood why her mom had moved away from Cape Cod. Her mom didn’t like talking about her move from the Cape, but Molly hoped that one day they could live much closer to her gramma. Molly sighed happily at the thought that her gramma would be coming for Christmas in a few months and then it wouldn’t be long before summer was here again and they’d be off to the cape.

Molly was jolted out of her dreamy state as another flash of lightning streaked through the room. She had just finished her homework and was getting ready take her sleepy cat downstairs to curl up by the fire and persuade her mom to make more of that special drink. It was Saturday afternoon and most of her friends were off doing things with their families, but she was content to spend a lazy day with her mom, wrapped in a warm blanket in front of the fire, listening to the pelting tink of the rain on the roof. Tink!

Tink! Tink!

Angela Parmell, her long dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail, sat in the den, writing and addressing the bills. When she’d finished the stack of bills, she set the envelopes on the corner of the desk, sat back, and sighed thoughtfully. Angela glanced out the window at the torrential downpour. Lightning flashed throughout the room, and the thunder shook the windows. The sound of the rain on the roof was almost deafening by this time. She stared for several moments at the pans on the floor filling up with water and shook her head. “We really need to find a better place.” She exhaled. Angela wondered if she should venture out into that pouring rain to the mailbox and mail the bills right away or wait until later.

“Hmmmm,” she thought. She’d have to go check the fireplace in the living room and add more wood in a few minutes. Angela looked outside again, tugged on the neck of her turtleneck sweater, and decided to mail them when the rain slowed down a bit. “Molly will be coming down soon for a refill on hot chocolate,” she thought and walked to the kitchen. She heard a faint “meow” from the base of the stairs as she put water in the teapot and set it on the stove.

“Come here, Cuddles,” she called. “Where is that Molly girl of mine?” she asked, reaching down to pet the cat as it entered the kitchen sleepily. “She’ll be wanting more hot chocolate, I s’pose.” She smiled and sighed deeply. Angela bent down and picked up a full bucket of water from the kitchen floor and dumped it out in the sink, replacing it under the drips from the ceiling.

The telephone rang from the den. Angela reached down to pet the cat one more time as she brushed past her on her way to answer the phone. “Yes, hello. Oh, thank you. Yes, we’re both doing fine. There’s an awful lot of water, but we’re using pans and buckets, and that seems to be working. The power is still on, thankfully. You are so nice for checking up on us. Okay. Yeah, sure. You have a good day, too. We’ll call if we need anything. Thanks so much.” Angela smiled and set the phone back on the receiver. It was nice Mr. Simmons, checking in during the storm to see if they were okay. He was such a kind and generous man with a heart of gold. He always came by or called to make sure they were doing okay or if they needed anything. They had had a break-in just a few nights before.

Nothing was missing, and it seemed unusual that the criminals hadn’t taken anything. The police speculated that they’d been looking for something specific and had left when they couldn’t find it. The house was a mess, but they had restored order in a short time. Mr. Simmons had been there to help. Everyone was still a little on edge, and it was comforting to know Mr. Simmons was close by, watching out for them. He’d be coming for dinner tomorrow night, and they always enjoyed their evenings with him around. Angela knew it would be hard on all of them when they left. Mr. Simmons had become such an important part of their lives. It would be hard to leave.

Molly came bounding down the stairs with a huge mug in her hand. “Mom? Mom, who called? Where are you? Can I have more hot chocolate, Mom? With lots of extra marshmallows?”

“Sure, honey! I’m here in the kitchen,” Angela replied, still petting Cuddles. “That was Mr. Simmons on the phone, just checking in on us. He wanted to make sure we were both doing okay during this storm. Well, I see that Cuddles beat you down here this time. Molly, do ya think she’d like some hot chocolate, too?” They both laughed.

“Cats don’t drink hot chocolate, Mom! You’re being silly!”

“Well maybe they don’t, but she might eat some of those marshmallow,” Angela remarked. Angela fixed two hot chocolates with the hot water from the teapot and handed one to Molly.

“Careful, honey. It’s hot. Here come the marshmallows,” Angela said as she plopped several big, puffy marshmallows into Molly’s mug.

“Hey, Mom, let’s go sit by the fire and watch the storm!” she said as she headed for the living room. Molly picked up a full pan of water from the living room, emptied it in the kitchen sink, and replaced it. She led the way to the living room again and collapsed onto the couch, followed closely by her mom. They sat there for several minutes, just listening to the rain and sipping their drinks.

The lightning and thunder continued to distract them. Angela set her mug on the coffee table, stood up, and went to add more wood to the fire. It sparked and sputtered as she sat back down on the couch next to her daughter.

“Don’t you just hate days like this, Mom? All this water with this leaky roof. Pretty soon we’re gonna need a boat.” Molly sighed.

“There’s nothin’ ta do on days like this . . . I guess we just flop on

the couch and listen to the rain. I hope the house doesn’t float away.”

“Yeah.” Angela exhaled as she glanced out the window. “Me too … You know, I’m thinking that a boat wouldn’t be a bad investment right now.” She smiled. The rain was coming down harder than earlier in the day, and she wondered if the gutters would overflow with all the extra rainwater. Cuddles jumped on the couch and curled up between Molly and Angela.

“Mom, do you think the roof will blow off with all of this wind? I don’t think we have enough pans and buckets for all this water.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I don’t think the roof will blow off even in this storm, and we’ll just have to keep emptying the buckets and pans. We may have some water spillage, but it won’t be too bad.” Angela said, petting the cat. “It’s a little drafty in here, but with the fire going, we’ll be fine.” She smiled.

“I don’t like these big storms and this creepy house with the creaky roof. Listen to that howling wind, Mom.” Molly frowned at her mom. “I don’t like it.”

Angela put her arm around her daughter, pulling her in close. “It’s just wind and rain, honey. We might want to think about getting a boat, though.” She chuckled.

“Mom!” Molly giggled. “We’re both good swimmers, but Cuddles might need a raft or something.” Angela hugged her daughter tightly and then got up to empty another full pan of water. She emptied it in the kitchen and then came back in to the living room. “Hey, Mom.”

Molly turned toward her mom as she entered the room. The wind was howling and whistling around the porch. “Please don’t get mad,” she said, petting the cat as it purred loudly, “but why can’t we go live with Gramma in her big house? There’s tons of room there, and then we can see her all the time.”

“Honey, your grandmother has better things to do than to have us hanging around all the time. Don’t worry, we’ll get a place of our own soon.”

“Mom, why don’t you like living at Cape Cod anyway?” Molly glanced back at her mom.

Angela sighed loudly and shook her head. “It’s complicated. It’s not that I don’t like living at the Cape.”

“But you moved away really early on—when you were old enough. . . that’s what Gramma said,” Molly retorted accusingly.

“Honey, you have to understand something.” She exhaled noisily.

“Your grandmother and I didn’t always see eye to eye on things. I just needed to get away, have my own life. Get away from that area and live on my own. That’s all.”

“Hmmmm.” Molly didn’t seem convinced that her mom was telling her the whole story and stared back at the fireplace. “Was it because you and Gramma kept fighting?”

“Well, that did put a strain on our relationship, but I just needed time away. Time on my own,” Angela responded without hesitation.

“What did you fight about?

“Honey, why all these questions? We’ve had this talk before. Those are grown up things. Okay, just between me and your grandmother. It’s nothing for you to worry about.” Angela got up and stoked the fire, pushing a piece of half-burned wood farther into it.

“Okay, okay. I just hate to see you and Gramma angry at each other. I want this Christmas to be a time when you two get along the whole time.” Molly got up, picked up a full pan of water from the floor, and walked into the kitchen with it. As she poured it out in the sink, she glanced back in to the living room.

“Tell ya what. I’ll make you a deal,” Angela raised her voice so that Molly could hear her from the kitchen. “You don’t worry about any of it, and I’ll do my best not to fight with Gramma . . . but just for you, okay?” Angela hugged her daughter as she came back into the room.

“Okay . . . but some day I’m going to make sure you tell me all about it.” Molly responded flippantly. “Mom, will you PLEEEASE please- please-PLEEEEASE tell me one of the stories that Gramma used to tell you when you were my age? One of the true ones?”

Molly asked, looking hopefully over at her mom. She strolled over to the corner of the living room and placed the pan back on the floor under the drip.

“Molly!” Angela gasped in a frustrated tone. “Gramma’s stories?

OOOOH, I thought we talked about this! Those stories are just . . . ,”

Angela paused with a big sigh, “. . . just kooky, made up things that your loony old grandma wasted her time on. None of those crazy tales are true! None of them! I didn’t believe the stories back then, and I don’t believe them now . . . and you shouldn’t either. I want your feet planted firmly on the ground and not up in the clouds with your Gramma. Her stories are just make believe. Just make believe! Got it?”

“But Moooom,” Molly whined. “They sound so real . . . don’t worry, I know they are make believe, but I still want to hear one,” she pleaded. Angela sighed, breathed deeply, and shook her head slowly.

“Besides, what if they are real?” Angela threw Molly a disgusted glare.

“Well, okay. This is against my better judgment,” Angela whispered, “but have I ever told you about the legend?” Angela raised her eyebrows in a playful manner.

“Legend?” Molly sat up excitedly. “You never mentioned anything about a legend! What is it? Come on, Mom, tell me!” Molly’s eyes sparkled as she squealed her delight at hearing a new tale.

“Well,” Angela started, looking around the room. “Shhhh, we can’t say any of this too loudly. You never know who might be listening.” She giggled and hugged her daughter.

“Mom, come on! I can’t stand the waiting! JUST TELL ME THE STORY!”

“Okay. Okay. Here goes. The legend goes something like this . . . apparently a long, long time ago, an alliance was created between the human world and the water world. A magical portal was created for true believers to cross between the two realms. It was said that as a gift, a perfectly rounded black pearl was presented to the chosen true believer. It was believed that this special gift came directly from the ruler of the ocean. This incredible pearl was said to be the key to opening the doorway between the two worlds. Without the magical pearl, the door would remain closed forever. Spooky stuff, huh, honey?”

“WOW! Mom, that was great! What else do you know about the legend?”

“Nothing, really. Just that only a true believer could open the doorway and cross into the other realm. Hey, it’s all silly nonsense, anyway . . . Everyone in town searched endlessly for the doorway and the pearl. Nothing was ever found . . . it was just a silly story to get tourists interested in coming to the Cape. That’s all. Our town did end up selling a ton of pearls to tourists, though.” Angela shrugged.

“Did you ever look for the REAL pearl, Mom?” Molly asked in a high-pitched tone.

“Yes, a bunch of us did . . .” She nodded. “Come to think of it . . . I was just about your age. We never found anything though.” She frowned. “Like I said, kiddo . . . it was just a fun story to tell kids and tourists.”

Molly sighed thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Mom . . . there’s a lot of stuff about that town, and the stories Gramma told about that don’t seem so silly.”

Changing the subject quickly, Angela stated, “Hey, when I talked to your grandma a couple of days ago, she said that she was really looking forward to seeing us for Christmas. Not long now, just a few months!” Angela grinned at Molly.

“She didn’t sound kooky on the phone, did she? I’m glad that we’ll be seeing her for Christmas even though you two always seem to be fighting about stuff.” Molly folded her arms and frowned. “I don’t like it when you fight. But happily, it’s only two months away, and I can’t wait to see her. YEAH!” Molly jumped off the couch and threw her arms in the air with an excited cheer. “Mom, when I talked with her, she said that she had something really important to tell us over Christmas. What do you think it is?”

Angela tilted her head thoughtfully to one side, took hold of her daughter’s hand, and shrugged. “I don’t know what the important thing is that Gramma wants to tell us, honey. But if she says it’s important, you KNOW it’s got to be really good. We’ll just have to wait until we see her to find out. Hey kiddo, I know your grandma and I argue a lot, but we are STILL family, and we STILL love each other. That will never change. I’m glad we’ll be seeing her for Christmas, too.”

“Mom, do you think Gramma will have some more stories for me? About those magical creatures again?” Angela sighed happily.

“Yes, honey, if I know your grandma, she’s sure to have plenty of outlandish tales to tell you.” She sighed loudly.

“Sometimes I think that they ARE real, Mom, and that Gramma really HAS done those things she talks about. How come she talks like she’s really done them and really knows all about those magical creatures? Did she ever tell you these stories? Did you ever believe them?”

“Oh, honey,” Angela glanced at the fire and sighed deeply. “Your grandma.” She sighed. “Uh, your grandma has a very vivid imagination. When I was growing up, your grandma told me all kinds of fanciful and wondrous stories of powerful magic, magical creatures, and enchantments. She wove fascinating tales and told them just like they were real. She was a real believer. I believed her, too; for a while at least.” Angela turned toward Molly and rested her hands on Molly’s. “Her stories were fun and full of magic. It was fun to believe in them. Grandma made the mundane world around me seem magical.” Angela snickered. “She was a bit kooky, I think, but she had a way of taking a normal, ordinary day and turning it into something exciting. It was never dull growing up with her as a mom.” She sighed, looking up at her daughter. “I believed her for a while; in fact, I believed her for quite a long time. You should have fun listening to her stories. I don’t ever want to take that away from you, but don’t think for ONE minute that they are real. I learned the hard way that it was all make believe. All of it, and I was crushed.”

Angela sighed deeply and stood up. She walked over to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel. She turned slowly toward Molly, who was intently staring at her mom, fixated on her every word.

“Was that when you and Gramma started fighting? Because you stopped believing?” Molly asked softly.

“Yeah, I think it was. Molly, I tried to believe. I wanted to believe. I wanted so badly to see the things she did, so I imaged that I could. It was wonderful for a while, but then one day, when I was about your age, I realized I had grown up and just didn’t see them anymore.” Angela placed another log on the fire and prodded it with the fire poker. “Where she saw vast herds of unicorns and centaurs, I only saw horses and cows. Where she saw flying dragons and fairies, I saw ordinary birds and butterflies. Molly, I don’t know if your grandma is crazy or not, but she can tell stories very well. I always thought that, with all of her tales of magic, she should havewritten children stories.” Angela chuckled and lowered her head.

“Enjoy her stories, but remember that they are just make believe, okay?” Molly nodded quickly. “Honey, if you know and understand this, then you will never be disappointed, never! Don’t make my mistake by thinking magic is real. It’s ALL make believe. Horses REALLY are JUST horses, and butterflies REALLY are JUST butterflies.”

“Mom, what about the merfolk?” Molly stood up and hugged her mom. “Living on Cape Cod, you must’ve seen some of them for sure! Grandma talks mostly of them . . . did you see any living that close to the ocean?” Angela chuckled again and hugged her daughter tightly. She put one knee on the floor and hugged her daughter again.

“Ah, yes, Gramma’s famous mermaids and merfolk. I had almost forgotten about them,” she mumbled with another heavy sigh. “She believed in mermaids so much that she even had a special welcome sign that she hung on the front door. It had a beautiful swimming mermaid on it. She said it guarded the house from evil magic. Don’t think for one minute that I didn’t search for mermaids. I spent hours and hours staring out at the sea, hoping to catch sight of a fin or tail or something. Some tiny sign that merfolk were real. Oh, I wanted to believe that Cape Cod was full of merfolk, but sadly, like the others, they were made up, too. Just more dreamed-up creatures from your grandma’s wild imagination. They aren’t real either. Trust me, I searched and searched. All I saw were fish, dolphins, whales, seals. Just normal sea animals of all kinds but never any merfolk.”

Angela let out a long sigh and lowered herself back down on the couch.

“Mom,” Molly was holding Cuddles on her lap and now pulled the cat in close for a hug. “Do I have to stop listening to Gramma’s stories?”

“No, honey, of course not. Just remember they are all make believe, okay?” She sighed loudly. “I don’t want you believing in something so strongly and then getting crushed when you find out that none of it is true.”

“Okay, but I’m still going to enjoy them.” Molly tilted her head toward Cuddles with a dreamy look on her face. She smiled as she imagined some of the wonderful creatures her grandma had described.

“All I ask is that you understand that it’s all make believe.” Angela stood up and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want some more hot chocolate, honey?” She turned back toward Molly still sitting on the couch. Molly turned and leaned on the back of the couch.

“Yeah, here’s my mug.” She held out her cup until her mom walked back and took it from her.

The distant jingle of the telephone from the den jolted Molly out of her dreamy daze. “MOM! I’ll get the phone!” Molly shouted as she set Cuddles on the floor and leapt off the couch. She skipped off to the den with her head full of happy thoughts of her grandmother.

“Hello? Huh? Okay . . . just a sec.’ MOOOOOOM? IT’S FOR YOU—SOMETHING ABOUT GRAMMA!” she hollered, setting the phone down on the desk. Angela handed the two hot chocolates to Molly.

“Who is it, sweety?” Angela asked as she picked up the phone.

“Don’t know.” Molly shrugged as she walked toward the door of the den.

“Hello! Yes, this is Angela Parmell. What is this about?” Angela’s face suddenly turned white, and she went weak in the knees. Her eyes were wide with shock as she listened intently to the phone. “Yes, of course. I understand.” After a short while she slowly set the receiver down.

“Mom? Mom? What’s wrong?!” Molly wrinkled her brow. “What’s wrong?!” Molly squealed and ran over to her mom, grabbing her arm. Angela’s face was pale white, and she touched her daughter’s arm gently.

“Something bad . . . something very . . .” She looked up at Molly. “Honey, something bad . . . has happened . . . to Gramma,” she stammered and stared down at the floor, momentarily frozen from the shock. Angela’s voice was slow and soft, and she spoke as if in a daze.

“What happened?! MOM? WHAT HAPPENED TO GRAMMA?” Molly started to cry.

“I UH, honey . . . I don’t . . . Uh . . . I don’t really know . . . I mean . . . THEY don’t really know . . . the police . . . don’t know exactly what happened . . . but Gramma is . . . Uh . . .” Angela paused, stabilizing herself with the table. She was clearly in a state of shock.

“Mom? What is it? What happened?” Molly stood up and reached out for her mom. Molly led Angela back to the living room in silence.

Angela flopped on the couch and stared blankly into the fire.

“Mom, what is it? What happened?”

“Honey . . . your grandmother . . . is . . . .dead.” She turned toward Molly.

“What? Gramma is . . . dead? Are you sure? That can’t be . . . I just talked to her a few days ago on the phone . . . she sounded fine. What happened? Did the police say what happened?” Tears streamed down Molly’s face.

“Uh,” Angela phased back in for a second and focused her attention on Molly. “Uh, no . . . they’re still investigating. They’re not sure yet if it was an accident or not—but they suspect that it wasn’t an accident.” Angela pulled Molly in close and hugged her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she cried as she held her daughter tightly.

Though neither knew it, this was the fateful phone call that would change their lives forever. From this moment on, nothing would ever be the same again for Molly and Angela.

About the Author:

Barbara Jean Weber lives in Skagit County with her husband and two daughters, where she works as a speech and language therapist. Her novel, The Welcome Sign, was inspired when she was gifted a mermaid welcome sign. The more she studied the sign, the more her story evolved. She is currently an active member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.

Visit her website at https://www.barbarajeanweber.com/.