Looking for Mr. Good Witch by Joyce and Jim Lavene

trade him for this favor.”
    â€œThat would make sense,” Elsie said. “Now let’s talk about what’s
really
important—what are you wearing to the celebration tonight?”

    We decided to check out Elsie’s attic, which was like a vintage clothing store. I didn’t think any woman in her family had ever thrown anything away. There were hundreds of old dresses in every style for the past hundred years, all colors and sizes. There were hats of every kind imaginable with bags, gloves and shoes to match.
    Every so often we raided her stash for different clothes to wear to various celebrations. It was fun romping through a history of clothes in the attic with dust, lit by sunbeams, floating in the air.
    â€œLook at this!” Dorothy held up a beautiful green satin dress that was ankle-length and formfitting. It had a large, stand-up collar that was studded with sequins and rhinestone stars. “Do you think it would fit me?”
    â€œTry it on,” Elsie encouraged. “If it doesn’t, we’ll fix it.”
    â€œWould we have time to get it altered? Is there a witch’s tailor shop?”
    Elsie and I laughed.
    â€œJust try it on,” I said. “Let’s see.”
    I was looking at a black velvet gown that was shot through with bright blue threads. “I feel guilty doing this without Olivia.”
    Elsie put down the red blouse she was holding. “I do too. But I think she might feel worse being here and not being able to try things on, don’t you?”
    â€œI do. I just hate ignoring her because she’s a ghost.”
    Barnabas meowed loudly.
    â€œPipe down,” Elsie told him. “He thinks ghosts shouldn’t hang around—like the council. Or maybe he’s jealous that we don’t have one here. Who knows?”
    Barnabas hissed and ran down the attic stairs. His spirit, encased in an orange-tabby body, was that of a preacher from the 1700s who had been mistakenly hanged for witchcraft. Like Isabelle, he could be a little sullen. Old souls were sometimes that way.
    Dorothy came out of the closet looking radiant. Green was certainly her color. The dress was a little large for her, but combining our magic, Elsie and I were able to tailor it until it fit like a glove.
    â€œWhat do you think?” She twirled around like a child. “How do I look?”
    â€œYou look amazing,” I said. “I’ll bet there are shoes and a bag that go with that.”
    We searched around until we found them and then took everything downstairs.
    Elsie was going to wear the beautiful embroidered red blouse she’d pulled out of one of her aunt Cecilia’s boxes with a matching flounced red skirt. “Aunt Cecilia was a fire witch too. I remember her wearing this outfit. Now there was a witch who knew how to party.”
    â€œI have some shoes that will match this gown perfectly.” I held the black gown up against me. “Your attic is like a treasure trove. It seems that, no matter how often we go up there, we always find something new.”
    â€œThat’s what comes of having a family of hoarders.” She laughed. “You two better go home and finish getting ready. Are you picking me up, Molly?”
    â€œLet me drive tonight,” Dorothy volunteered.
    Elsie and I exchanged frowns. Neither one of us wanted to ride in her tiny brown Beetle.
    Dorothy laughed. “In the Mercedes, ladies. I know that would please Mom. She’s wanted me to drive it for months. What are we going to do about her? Can we sneak her into the celebration with no one noticing?”
    â€œI’m afraid that’s not possible,” I told her. “You can see how the other witches feel about ghosts. I don’t know what to do.”
    â€œThere’s no disguise for a ghost that I’ve ever heard of,” Elsie said. “I wish it could be different. Olivia always enjoyed a good party.”
    â€œWhat about