‘Almost done,’ he said, holding up a finger. He snuck into the chilled cabinet where Bonnie kept the bar snacks, and pulled out the remaining brownies.
‘Now we’re talking,’ said Bonnie, as he plated them up.
‘They might not be your mom’s, but they’ll do. She always made the best brownies. Like magic in your mouth.’
‘That’s how Mom did things,’ said Bonnie with a smile.
‘You’re so much like her, you know. You both are.’
Bonnie grinned. ‘You know, you’re not the first person to say that.’
‘I’m sure I won’t be the last.’ Bobby’s gentle gaze met Bonnie’s. ‘Shall we take this upstairs?’
Bonnie grabbed her drink. ‘Let’s.’
They tiptoed around the perimeter of the room towards the stairwell, heading up past the private events room on the first floor and up to the apartment.
‘Sorry about the seating situation,’ she said, grimacing at the drop sheets and paint tins.
‘There’s plenty of room,’ said Bobby. He pulled over a handful of rags, laying them out like a picnic blanket. Setting down the drinks and the brownies, he pulled a candle and a stick lighter from his pocket.
Bonnie laughed. ‘Wow, okay, I’m impressed.’
Bobby cupped his hands around the wick, letting the lighter click until a soft flame spilled forth. ‘I’ve been waiting about fifteen years to hear you say that.’
‘And I’ve been pretending I didn’t feel that way for about as long,’ admitted Bonnie. She picked up her cocktail and raised it in a tentative toast. ‘To magical new things?’
‘To magical new things,’ said Bobby, clinking his glass against hers.
‘And now, please, for goddess’s sake, would you kiss me already?’
Bobby didn’t need to be asked twice. He leaned in, his fingers finding the nape of her neck, and his mouth at long last finding hers.
Bonnie wasn’t sure what was sweeter: the cocktail, or his lips.
Chapter 39
BESPELLED BY FROGS
Effie
Effie stood nervously in front of the soon-to-be-launched StoryWalk. Launches and festivities outside the library weren’t particularly her thing, but Theo had seemed so delighted by the idea of bringing the StoryWalk officially to life that she hadn’t had the heart to turn him down. And besides, it was good for the library’s KPIs. And its social media following, which had grown into the tens of thousands since Effie had enlisted Kirsty’s expertise. Her library cats videos were, as Bonnie might put it, ‘doing numbers’, and she had a literal song and dance planned forFrogs Are My Faves. Although Theo would be the face of that. Like Tessa, Effie drew the line at public singing and dancing.
And then there was the fact that they’d found the most perfect spot for it: the looping yellow-brick path that spilled out from Mom’s memorial chair at the Toto Hotel. The Friends of the Library had suggested a variety of locations, but in the end, they’d all agreed that there was no better place, especially since the lush pond at the end of the loop would by spring be vibrant with flashing tadpole tails and froggy croaks. Anyone was welcome to visit – no hotel reservation was needed.
A red ribbon waved from the StoryWalk entrance, courtesy of Dierdre of Second-Hand Magic, who’d had a bolt of appropriate fabric sitting out back of the thrift store. (The localmovie theatre had donated it after they’d tired of vacuuming popcorn out of the velvet.)
Cassandra from the student newspaper was already there and waiting, although shedidlook almost as nervous as Effie felt. Perhaps because Bonnie had absolutely lambasted her over her article about The Silver Slipper. The article had come out the day after the magical reversal, and had managed to get not only the name of The Silver Slipper wrong, but every other detail as well (although this was not necessarily a bad thing given the events of the previous few weeks).
‘Photographic memory, my ass!’Bonnie had griped, reading the article. ‘More like a Snapchat memory. Tell the college to send someone else to do your page-stroll thing.’
‘StoryWalk,’ Effie had corrected.
‘Eh, semantics.’
‘Semantics matter! The meaning of the words you use matters! It’s the whole point of communication. Besides, she probably had good reason for her memory not being all that, remember?’
Bonnie had responded with a particularly rude example of non-verbal communication.
