‘How so? Have they been riding around on brooms or something?’
Uncle Oswald huffed. ‘The way they ride those scooters, the very prospect of that should terrify you. Look, you know that Yellowbrick Grove is a place where superstition and rituals loom large. How many black cats do you see around here? How much salt gets tossed over shoulders while cooking? These are exactly the kind of people who get swept up by the promises of online charlatans. Suddenly, they’re curing cancer with a pendulum or quitting their jobs because they got a peculiar reading from one of those aura Polaroid cameras.’
Bonnie muddled a tall spoon through a rum and ginger beer highball cocktail. ‘No offence, but you’re sounding kind of like a boomer.’
Uncle Oswald adjusted his bowler hat primly. ‘I get it. We’re from different generations. And I know things could have been better between Lyra and me. Part of where we differed was that she was all about keeping magic to herself. Just like your sister.’
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. Was he really going there? Mom had believed that magic had to be wielded carefully, and with good reason. It wasn’t a gatekeeping thing. It was that magic had a tendency to cause problems. And sometimes resulted in literal witch hunts.
‘I’m not saying we advertise it,’ said Oswald. ‘I’m just saying that magic from the right source, a responsible source, is a good thing. It could be good for the townspeople. And good for business. Yoursandmine.’
He clasped his hands over the top of his drink, then added, ‘I have a proposal that would be mutually beneficial to our bottom lines.’
Seeing Winston waving from over at the darts board, Bonnie poured a fresh round of beers for the Old Darts. Something was going on here, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of it.
‘I know where Mom stood,’ she said finally. ‘And it’s where I stand too.’
Uncle Oswald nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged. ‘Your sister said the same.’
Bonnie’s hands tightened on the beer tap. Of course he’d gone to Effie first. OfcourseBonnie was the afterthought when it came to discussions of magic. ‘When did you see Effie?’
Uncle Oswald’s rings flashed as he waved her off. ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. But I do hope the two of you enjoy the photograph of Lyra. I thought you should have it.’
What photograph? Effie had a photo of Mom that she’d been hiding? Bonnie was so flabbergasted that she managed to squirt beer all over herself. Dammit. Between last night and this, she’d managed to ruin two consecutive outfits.
‘Well, you definitely know what you’re doing,’ mused Oswald, sliding down from his stool. ‘The bar business is a hard one. The old owner, Harvey? He didn’t have the touch that you do. I remember when he first opened. It was the place to be! But when the novelty faded, things dropped off. Such a shame. And so avoidable.’
Bonnie frowned. What was he saying? That her success was destined to be temporary? That her profits were about to circle the drain the same way her credit rating had before Effie demanded she freeze her accounts and pay down the balances she owed?
But she didn’t have time to think any deeper on this, for a girl who’d been sitting quietly at one of the corner tables came up in tears, her eyes red and her mascara painting hercheeks with inky stripes. ‘Do you...have some tissues? I’m having the worst night. I drew cards and checked my tea leaves andeverything, just like the video said, and he didn’t even show up.’
Bonnie’s heart went out to the poor girl. Coming out from behind the counter, she wrapped her up in a hug.
‘It’s okay, babe. You’re a catch! This is a him thing, not a you thing.’
‘I mean, that’s easy for you to say. Look at you.’
‘That’s right. That’s how I know that if he doesn’t show up, it’s a him thing.’
‘It’s a him thing,’ repeated the girl.
‘You’ll forget all about him in a few days, I promise.’ Bonnie rubbed the girl’s shoulders. Then she grabbed Uncle Oswald’s pocket square and handed it to her. ‘That’s what my mom always used to say, and you know what? She was right.’
‘Moms are the best,’ sobbed the girl.
‘Momsarethe best,’ agreed Bonnie, as she poured a glass of wine for the girl. A small one, because getting just slightly tipsy over your woes made for a better tomorrow than drowning your sorrows. Damn, she missed Mom. She’d run to her hundreds of times over the years, sometimes over small, silly things, sometimes over ones that felt so existential that she feared the very world might cave in. She remembered the very last time she’d done it, too: how she’d cried in Mom’s arms about the thought of losing her.
A part of Bonnie hated herself for putting that on Mom, but Mom knew it had come from a place of love.
As though she could read Bonnie’s own heartache, the girl began ugly-crying into Uncle Oswald’s pocket square. The look on Oswald’s face was priceless.
‘You can keep that,’ Oswald said in disgust, as the girl took her wine and retreated to the pinball machines. From all the banging and clanging that followed, she was exacting some serious revenge.
‘Ugh, that handkerchief was born for better things,’ muttered Oswald, shuddering. ‘But now you see my point, don’t you? The pain that people are experiencing from subjecting themselves to things they don’t understand. It’s not that they don’t work. It’s that you need sophisticated, nuanced knowledge to use them effectively.’
Bonnie thought about how her magic habitually backfired on her, often creating more drama than it was worth. What was she missing that Effie wasn’t? Was it simply knowledge and skill, or something deeper?
‘I have a proposal,’ said Oswald. ‘Between two of the town’s most entrepreneurial business owners.’
