Her heart twisted as she thought about the young family who’d loved the house so much, and who’d been so keen on making an offer. They could be in here right now, putting up toys on the built-in shelves and hanging their family photos (and adding child locks and safety gates to every cupboard and doorframe). Olivia could’ve grown up here, and Beatrice and Todd could’ve grown old here. And instead, the house would most likely sit empty for most of the year, except on weekends or holidays. But at least an investor from the city was making money on it, she thought angrily.
Bonnie wondered if it was too late. If she could figure out a way to get the family into the house. Maybe she’d look into the zoning laws. Or attend a town planning meeting to protest all the short-term rentals.
But tourism traffic is essential to your business, she reminded herself.
Her business that might have had a hand in this whole thing. Because there was something going on with her drinks recipes that was doing more than just helping people forget their psychic troubles. And as much as Bonnie had been trying to convince herself otherwise since the realization had struck her this afternoon, telling herself that the townsfolk were just naturally flighty, that modernity had people scattered and torn between a million different responsibilities, whatever Uncle Oswald had set into motion was going way beyond what it said on the label.
Bonnie squared her shoulders. That was it. She’d visit him. Right now. On behalf of the family who’d missed out on their dream home. On behalf of Iris, who’d almost missed her own birthday party. On behalf of her own conscience.
She climbed into her car, getting ready to head to Behind the Curtain.
Her phone dinged. Ugh, the autopayment for her car insurance was about to go out. And the electrical at the bar. And her health insurance.
But the sinking pit in her stomach she usually felt at this time of the month didn’t gnaw at her the way it usually did.
Because for the first time in the past year, she was confident that she could cover all the bills without having to check her bank balance, and more importantly, without asking Effie to spot her. There was such a relief at the thought. That low-level fear of living on the precipice at all times had ebbed.
Maybe she just needed to be more selective about who she served the drinks to, and how often. Because the townsfolk were better off overall, weren’t they? Even if they were slightly more ditzy and forgetful than usual, at least they weren’t sobbing over star charts or anguishing over tea leaves.
Off she cruised, trying to focus on her new-found success instead of the creeping sense that it came at a cost.
Pulling up at a stop sign – she was not about to roll through one after the incident with Kevvie the other day – she adjustedher rear-view mirror. The charm hanging from it, a gift from Uncle Oswald, gleamed and flashed as it caught the soft light of a street lamp.
Everything was fine. Sparkly and fine.
It was a mantra she repeated all the way home.
Chapter 27
HEX AND HEXABILITY
Effie
Effie couldn’t believe it: she was shopping for a date.
All right, not this very second. But she would be when Tessa arrived. Meanwhile, Effie was standing in the crisp autumn sunshine outside Second-Hand Magic, the vintage shop where she and Tessa had sourced almost the entirety of their wardrobes from the age of twelve. Although Tessa was much better at upcycling her clothes with quirky embroidery and decorative patches than Effie was. Effie’s clothing tended to wear her instead of the other way around.
You and I are the difference between ‘worn’ and ‘styled’, Bonnie had pointed out more than once. Effie knew it, but she wasn’t about to give Bonnie the satisfaction of asking for her help.
And especially not when the situation involved a date with Theo.
A kid on a rental scooter clattered past, balancing his coffee cup on the handlebars. The shop was tucked back in one of the alleyways that meandered off from the square, close to The Winged Monkey and on the opposite side to Uncle Oswald’s shop. This was a relief, as she’d been distinctly uncomfortable when Oswald had shown up at Mom’s grave the other day. There was something about his energy that made her stomach churn.
‘Always listen to that instinct,’ Mom used to say. ‘It comesfrom millennia of experience, all passed down from woman to woman.’
But Bonnie seemed to be spending quite a bit of time with Oswald these days. From what Effie had gleaned, they had some sort of business arrangement going on, although Bonnie had been coy about the details. Maybe it was some sort of Chamber of Commerce initiative where businesses encouraged cross-traffic with punch cards and treasure maps. Bonniedidlove a punch card.
Here came Tessa, hurrying down the alleyway in a swish of loose fabrics and flying curls. Her boots splashed through some of the residual puddles that lingered after the overnight rain, speckling the decorative pumpkins and foliage arrangements out the front of the little shops.
‘Sorry.’ She was clearly bursting with news she was dying to share. ‘I was looking at a space for a possible shop.’
Effie raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds promising. Do tell.’
‘Soon. I don’t want to curse it.’ Tessa zipped her lips. ‘Still, it’s not as important as helping you find something to wear for your date.’
‘It’s not a date,’ lied Effie.
‘Your not-a-date,’ agreed Tessa, eyes twinkling behind her glasses.
