Everything in its own way was magic.
Her anxiety slowly gave way to the different kind of heart-pounding that came with physical exertion. She started to retrace her steps – glides, perhaps – continuing her loop back towards the stately family home that Effie was determined to hang on to, no matter how much of the wiring needed to be replaced or the plumbing redone, and no matter how much Effie’s librarian salary did not stretch that far. Hopefully her patchwork of hexes and charms (and Bonnie’s help with the electrical box) would stave off the worst of it for now.
Ah, the familiar Yellowbrick Grove of Garden Perfection sign that meant she was a few scoots from home. But as Effie got closer, she frowned. Something was amiss with the house,which was known for its dramatic floral displays (Freddie had spent countless hours in the library researching how to achieve pH neutral soil conditions). And, of course, its lush, rolling lawn, which had somehow been kept safe from moles and gophers, something she considered Freddie’s own particular brand of magic.
Effie pulled up on her roller skates, albeit not very well. She had to grab the fence to stop from falling over. Although even if she’d been wearing regular shoes, she might still have toppled over in shock. For Freddie’s magnificent, putting-green-worthy lawn was...ragged. There were yellowy bits like a dog had been peeing all over it with a vengeance. (Effie had learned from Freddie’s library expeditions about the high nitrogen levels in dog urine, which could alter lawn pH levels and kill grass. This was the primary reason that Freddie was an indoor-pet kind of guy.)
And it wasn’t just the lawn that was in sorry shape. The shrubs were unkempt, the pretty pansies were dehydrated, and the usually voluminous hydrangea bushes looked like they were hanging on for dear life. Moreover, was that aweed?
Effie tried to think when she’d last seen Freddie. She had bumped into him at the supermarket a few days earlier, and he’d seemed well enough. They’d laughed over how he couldn’t remember where he’d parked his car, and that every car these days was a silver SUV. Effie had told him he needed a golf cart, or a membership to the rental scooter company. Besides, Freddie was only sixty or so, and extremely spry from all that gardening.
A light was on inside, so presumably he was up. Would it be wrong to go and check on him?
Effie steeled herself. Introverted as she was, she couldn’t abide the thought of bypassing someone who needed her help. She swung open the perfectly balanced gate – much smoother than the one at the Chalmers house, which had seen betterdays and sagged like the ultra-comfy bra Effie couldn’t bring herself to throw out.
Pulling her sleeve down over her wrist, she knocked lightly, hoping that would be less startling than ringing the doorbell in the middle of the night.
‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Freddie?’
Relief as she heard some shuffling and scuffling about inside. Freddie was alive at least. Although now she felt a bit silly, banging on someone’s door to do a welfare check when they were probably just up watchingGolden Girlsreruns. She waved awkwardly as she saw a shadow pass over the peephole on the door.
‘Hi,’ she called, trying to look unassuming and not like a weird stalker as Freddie opened the door. ‘It’s just me.’
‘Who are you?’ he asked, looking judgementally down at her roller skates.
Effie stammered. This wasn’t the greeting she’d been expecting. ‘Effie. Effie Chalmers. I live a few houses down.’ And then, because it tended to help people place her, ‘Bonnie’s sister.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Freddie, in a tone that didn’t sound any less confused. ‘Well, that’s good to know.’
‘So, you’re okay?’ she pressed, giving him a once-over to make sure he wasn’t sporting a head wound or something that might indicate why he’d suddenly let his beloved lawn quite literally go to seed. She sniffed. No gas leak that she could smell. Although it could be carbon monoxide, which was unfortunately odourless.
Freddie squinted at her. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? Areyouokay? You’re the one coming to my door in the middle of the night. Is someone chasing you? Do you need me to help you get home?’
Effie shook her head. ‘Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about. Sorry to bother you.’
As Effie carefully made her way back down the front steps,she couldn’t shake the feeling that something odd was going on in the town. Sabine’s tardiness, Freddie’s lawn, Bobby’s shift in allegiance from Bonnie to Kirsty – it all felt so strange. Was Effie just being hypercritical and overly set in her ways, the way Bonnie always said, or was something else at play?
Chapter 26
IT’S FEELING A LITTLE CAULDRON IN HERE
Bonnie
With a yawn, Bonnie stepped back to admire the display she’d put together for Iris’s birthday party. She’d woken up multiple times throughout the night, convinced she’d heard the front door bang, although the only explanation for that was that Effie had snuck out, which was impossible. Whatever the cause of the wake-ups, there was not enough coffee in the world. This was evidenced by the three empty takeaway cups from The Winged Monkey that sat on the trestle table, amid the dips and snacks she’d carefully arranged, and pre-mixed pitchers of Memory Lane-infused cocktails, which Iris had personally insisted upon. Fuelled by three double-shot caramel lattes, Bonnie had draped, arranged and constructed with an intensity that rivalled Hannah’s wedding-planner mom.
Fairy lights twinkled all along the back wall, and balloons wafted gently in the breeze from the pedestal fan that kept the air moving around. She’d even brought in a photo booth for good measure. Next to it sat a huge box of props, and in a rare win, the Bluetooth speaker was working. Love it as she did, the device was usually only good for picking up Bruce Dickens’ Saturday evening radio show, whose 80s hits Bonnie would never admit had helped her through a ton of cram sessions during high school and the few semesters of college she’d managed. Currently it blasted a solidly boppyBonnie-crafted playlist of 90s and early 00s pop, and Bonnie was mouthing along to Britney Spears.
The only thing that wasn’t quite right was how empty the room was. Surelysomeonewould’ve peeked their head in by now? If not the guest of honour, then one of her friends, or a date, or a mom.
Bonnie checked the time on her phone. Weird. All right, so being fashionably late was something she personally approved of. In fact, it was a vital part of the Bonnie make-’em-squirm philosophy. Maybe Iris lived her life by the same personal mantra. But she hadn’t seemed like the type. She’d mentioned needing to leave early just in case there was traffic on the way to her part-time job, and traffic, frankly, did not exist in Yellowbrick Grove.
To be fair, Irishadbooked a daytime party, which was easier on the finances than a prime-time one. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that her college friends were still asleep.
She might as well go help Clark downstairs until the guest of honour showed up. She enjoyed working alongside the new bartender. He was affable and focused, and being in a self-described long-distance relationship with a gent in Barcelona, not desperate for her phone number either. A few weeks ago, Bonnie might have been miffed by that, but she’d been somewhat off men since the Bobby and Kirsty situation, which unsettled her in a way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Well, she might be able to if she thought about it at length, but she didn’t have the time to do that,orto deal with the consequences of any realizations that might come out of it.
‘How’s life at the college?’ she asked Clark as she restocked the caddies under the bar.
‘More of the same,’ he said, as he sliced up citrus for garnishes. ‘But apparently they’re on the hunt for new poetry adjunct. The girls are swooning at the thought. And half the guys, too. Including yours truly.’
