by Bailey Cates
She grinned at me. “I’m on my way to show that town house over by Lucy and Ben’s place. Sounds like this couple is really interested.”
“You looked at a place in Ardsley Park?” Lucy asked as she joined us.
“Er . . . yeah. Another town house,” I fumbled. I shot Cookie a look.
She returned it with an apologetic twist to her lips.
Lucy frowned. “That one down the street? Isn’t that just like ours?”
Cookie and I nodded in unison. Iris’ eyes darted between us.
“You didn’t like it?” Lucy asked.
“I . . . um . . . we . . . of course we liked it,” I stammered. “It’s just that—”
“Declan really wants a yard,” Cookie broke in. “So do Katie and Mungo, of course. I knew that ahead of time, but I thought I’d take the chance, you know. Some of those town houses have open areas behind them, but not that particular one.”
Lucy smiled. “Of course. Don’t worry, Katie. You’ll find just the right place for your new life.”
But I don’t want a new life. I want the life I have, only married to Declan. I kept the thought to myself, though.
“And speaking of the right place, I have another one to show you,” Cookie said.
“Declan—”
“I know he’s on shift right now. But tomorrow he’ll be free, right? I’ll take you over there after work. It’s on the edge of Paradise Park.”
I nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll let him know.”
Iris let out a long sigh. “I don’t know how you can pick, Katie. Decisions like that are so hard.”
Turning to her, I asked, “Are you looking for a place to live?”
“Nuh-uh. I’m still living with Patsy.” Patsy was her stepmother. “I have the whole basement to myself, so that works out fine. I can’t afford a place of my own right now anyway. Not going to school. I was just talking about how hard it is to make any decision, you know? Like, major ones that you’ll have to live with forever.”
“Does this have anything to do with having to decide what program to settle into at SCAD?” Lucy asked. Iris had been attending classes at the Savannah College of Art and Design for three quarters and had yet to decide what to focus her considerable talents on.
She grimaced. “They want me to make a decision. So does Patsy. Says I need to stop being such a—a flibbertigibbet, she calls it—and focus on something I can turn into a career.”
“Have you narrowed it down?” Lucy’s voice was kind.
“A little,” Iris said. “To photography or maybe motion media design. Or graphic design. Or maybe interior design.” She rolled her eyes.
I laughed.
Cookie folded her arms. “You know you’ll have to sacrifice.”
My head jerked around so fast my neck popped.
“Every time you make a choice,” she continued, “you sacrifice something. Usually more than one thing. It’s just the way it works, Iris.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Iris said, her brow furrowed.
“Doesn’t matter. And getting stuck in not liking it simply means you’re not making a choice.” Cookie smiled. “Which is, of course, also making a choice—and that means you’re sacrificing something even if you don’t see it. It’s good that you tried a little of this and a little of that in school. That gave you information to base your decision on. But now you’re just stuck, and by not committing to a major course of study, you sacrifice learning about something deeply, the satisfaction of accomplishment, overcoming challenges, and embracing the results.”
I stared at the younger witch. Everything she said made perfect sense, of course. However, I had the feeling she wasn’t trying to convince Iris so much as herself. As she spoke, Cookie seemed to be looking into the distance at something the rest of us couldn’t see.
Was she thinking about how she’d dated so many men before deciding on Oscar and getting married? Or all the jobs she seemed to go through, trying to find the right one? She’d committed to marriage. Maybe real estate would turn out to be her long-term calling professionally.
“But it’s going to change my life!” Iris wailed. “What if I end up hating what I choose? I won’t be able to go back.”
“Nonsense,” Lucy said. “If you find you don’t like whatever you decide to go into, you can make the decision to pursue something else. People do it all the time.”
Cookie looked over at me. “It’s true. There are very few things that you can’t change your mind about.”
I nodded, holding her gaze. “Like marriage?”
Iris said, “What about divorce?”
Cookie shook her head. “Marriage is a big decision, and you’d better be ready to stick with it. Still, divorce might be an option for some people.”
But not for her, if I understood the subtext. Was something wrong between Oscar and her?
She broke into my speculation. “I was thinking more along the lines of children. That’s one thing you really can’t change your mind about.”
“Well, that’s true—” I began.
“Oh, my Lord! That’s it!” Lucy exclaimed, her hands flying to her cheeks. Her gray eyes danced. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s different about you. How did I not see it before!”
My gaze sharpened, homing in on Cookie. “You’re pregnant?”
A slow, shy smile blossomed on her face. She nodded.
“Ohmagod!” I rushed across the kitchen and hugged her.
Lucy was right behind me, and Iris did the little two-step she did when she was happy.
“What’s going on in here?” Ben boomed in the entrance to the kitchen. Behind him, customers were staring.
“Cookie’s expecting!” Lucy said.
“No kidding!” he said, striding over and enveloping Cookie in one of his signature bear hugs.
“I was going to wait to tell everyone together,” she said once she’d extricated herself from our demonstrative congratulations. “So don’t tell the rest of the spellbook club, okay? I want to do it myself.”
“Deal.” Lucy nodded decisively.
“Cookie has a bun in the oven?” a loud voice brayed from beside the register.
We all turned to see Mrs. Standish standing there, a delighted grin on her broad-featured face. One of our first customers and an avid supporter of the Honeybee, she wore a zebra-print turban over her gray curls and a Merlot-colored caftan over patent leather heels. She was brash, kind to animals, and one of the worst—or best—gossips I’d ever met.
“I do hope you’ll invite me to the shower, girls!”
“Of course,” Lucy said, hurrying out to serve Mrs. Standish her daily pastry.
Cookie, however, looked stricken.
I half smiled. “Sorry, hon. Some things you get to decide and some are decided for you. Good luck keeping a lid on your condition now.”
• • •
After the lunch crowd had petered out, Lucy pulled me aside in the kitchen. “This morning you said you wanted to go over to Fern’s and give her the book Orla bought her daughter. Iris is here all day, and the three of us can handle anything that comes up. You might as well go now.”
I took off my apron and hung it on its hook. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive. I’m tempted to go with you myself.”
“Why don’t you?” I said. “You knew Orla better than I did, and you know Fern as well.”
She hesitated, then gave a decisive nod. “I’ll do it. And then we can stop by my house and pick up Honeybee. I left her at home this morning.”
“Ben, Iris? You guys okay with us leaving for a while?” I called.
Iris waved her hand absently. “Sure.”
Ben came over to where she stood at the coffee counter reading something. “What’s that?”
“School catalog,” she
said, and glanced up at me. “Today I’m deciding what to focus on at school.”
“Good girl,” he said, and patted her on the shoulder. Then he looked up at us. “We’ll be fine.”
I gathered Mungo into my tote bag and met Lucy on the sidewalk out front. Once we were all settled into the Bug and on our way, I asked, “Actually, how well do you know Fern?”
“She came into the bakery with her mother a few times. We chatted a bit—weather, books, cooking. She was always pleasant.”
“So she and Orla got along?”
Lucy looked at me sideways. “I think so. Why?”
I half smiled. “Oh, you know. Sometimes mothers and daughters don’t see eye to eye on everything.”
“Like you and Mary Jane?” she asked.
It was true that my mother and I had had a bit of a falling-out when I started practicing the Craft. She’d spent a lot of time and even sacrificed her own practice to protect me from what she thought would get me in trouble in our little town of Fillmore, Ohio. When I’d learned she’d kept my heritage a secret, I’d been furious. At the same time, she’d been angry at Lucy for telling me, and unhappy when I embraced my gift. It had taken a while, but since then we’d made peace with each other.
“You know, if anything, Mama and I are closer now than ever before,” I said.
“Mm.”
I laughed. “Oh, I know that sister of yours isn’t exactly easy to get along with.” With a pang, I thought of how awful it would feel if she was suddenly taken from me as Fern’s mother had been from her. Silently, I vowed to give my parents a call soon.
She patted my knee. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”
I guided the car into her neighborhood, and Lucy’s head turned as we drove by her town house. “Yes, there’s Honeybee in the window. She’ll be happy to come back with us for a few hours this afternoon.”
Sure enough, I saw the tabby cat’s orange-striped head swivel as my aunt’s familiar watched us go by.
I pointed out the town house Cookie had shown us, glad that Lucy hadn’t taken offense that I didn’t want to live there. Then we turned onto Paulsen, and I pulled to the curb across the street from the Black family compound.
“Love the bright doors,” Lucy observed as we exited the vehicle. “That looks like Fern in front of the orange one.”
She was sitting on the front steps, elbows on her knees and chin cupped in both hands. The man sitting next to her could have been her twin except for his redder hair. He’d been the unicyclist we’d seen on the riverfront.
“It is,” I said. “And I assume that adorable little girl on the front walkway is the reason we’re here.”
My aunt nodded. “That’s Nuala.”
“Do you know who that is?” I said, referring to the woman kneeling beside Nuala. Their heads were close together, and I spied lengths of chunky sidewalk chalk in their hands.
“I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”
Mungo hopped down to the floor and out to the street as I reached into the backseat for my tote. The book Orla had bought Nuala lay nestled on top, wrapped carefully in the bag from the Fox and Hound. Together, the three of us crossed the street and started up the walkway.
Fern straightened when she saw us, but didn’t get up. She looked over her shoulder at the screen door behind her, then leaned toward her companion. Her lips moved slightly, and he shook his head. His expressionless eyes never wavered from our approach.
We paused beside the sidewalk artists. They’d drawn an elaborate forest scene, with green trees filled with vividly colored birds, butterflies, bees, beetles, and even a spider in the middle of its web. The woman tipped back on her heels and raised her face to us, but Nuala barely gave us an unsmiling glance before continuing to apply bright azure chalk to an insect wing.
Then I realized she was putting the finishing touches on a dragonfly. Lucy gave me a nudge as she noticed the same thing, and Mungo padded over to sit beside it.
That got the girl’s attention. A noise of delight escaped from her throat, and she dropped the chalk in order to pet my familiar. The blue hue immediately transferred to the fur on his head, giving him a punk look.
I laughed.
“Hi.” The woman smiled. “What can we do for you?”
My aunt smiled back. “I’m Lucy Eagel, and this is my niece, Katie Lightfoot. We knew Orla, and wanted to offer our condolences to the family.”
She stood and stuck out her hand. “I’m Ginnie Black.” She had friendly blue eyes in a wide square-jawed face, smooth tanned skin, and a slight cleft in her chin. Her hair was the color of pine straw. She reminded me of Margie, and I wondered if she had the same Scandinavian genes. “And this is Nuala.”
My aunt nodded. “Hi, Nuala. Do you remember me? We met at the Honeybee Bakery.”
The little girl nodded, but she didn’t say anything. Her dark eyes were huge beneath the shock of black hair, and when she unhinged from her cross-legged position to stand beside her aunt, she was all elbows and knees. She crowded next to Ginnie and watched us with careful eyes.
“And the little black dog is named Mungo,” I said.
A smile broke onto her narrow face as she looked down at where he stood, inches away from her sneaker. “Mungo. That’s a good name.”
His mouth opened in a doggy grin.
Ginnie said, “I take it you know Fern and Finn?”
We followed her to where the siblings sat. They were on the top step, so we were nearly at eye level. “Hi, Fern,” I said. “We met down by the riverfront the other night.”
She nodded. “I remember. Hello, Lucy.”
“And, Finn, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” I said.
More introductions were made, followed by murmurs of sympathy. I watched Finn. He looked even more like Orla than his sister did, with pupils the color of dark-roast coffee and an echoing tilt to his upper lip. He watched me back, eyes probing. And perhaps more than his eyes. When I tried to get a hit from him, there was nothing. Same with Fern. Had they inherited their mother’s gift? It wouldn’t have surprised me a bit.
“Thank you for stopping by,” Finn said. “We appreciate it.”
Was he dismissing us?
Chapter 12
I needn’t have worried.
Finn turned to the screen door and opened it. “I have some business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course,” I said. He held eye contact for a few more seconds than necessary, then smiled a perfunctory smile and went inside.
Lucy turned to Nuala. “I love your drawings. Would you show me more?”
The girl looked to her mother, who smiled and nodded. “She’s very talented.”
“I can see that,” Lucy said as she and Nuala went out to the yard with Mungo.
I took Finn’s place on the steps by Fern. Ginnie left us to join the others. I turned my head to look at Orla’s daughter. The tip of her nose was red, and the skin around her eyes was pinched with strain. I caught a wisp of nervous energy under her calm mask. Grief, of course. Or guilt? How much money would she be getting from her mother’s life insurance policy?
The thought made me feel mean and dirty. I pushed it away and reached into my tote bag.
“I know it’s early days to drop by like this, and I hope it’s not too much of an imposition. I wanted to give you something, though.”
Curiosity sparked behind her eyes.
I handed her the wrapped book. “Orla had just picked this up at the Fox and Hound when . . . when Lucy and I saw her. It’s a present for Nuala. I didn’t know whether it was for an occasion, like a birthday or something, so I thought you should have it. I know Orla was excited about giving it to her.”
Fern’s eyes welled, and she blinked rapidly. Drawing out the book, she looked down at the cover for several seconds without speaking
. Then: “Mother was always telling Nuala stories about the old country.” She gave a little laugh. “Not that she ever lived there. Only visited once. But her heritage was very important to her.” Her head came up, and she met my eyes for the first time. “You were there when she died, weren’t you?”
Slowly, I nodded. “Lucy and I both.”
“Did she suffer?”
“I don’t think so. Truly.”
She looked out at her daughter. “That’s good.” She took a deep breath. “You know, I’m trying to remember how Mother always thought we never really died. That we only moved to the next stage of things.”
Tentatively, I put my hand on her arm. “My family believes something very similar.”
Something rustled on the other side of the screen door behind us. I craned my neck to see, but couldn’t make out anything through the mesh.
Fern sighed and gently disengaged her arm, then rubbed her temples with her fingertips.
Yip!
A giggle erupted from the front lawn. Nuala and Mungo were running in circles. Her arms were flung open, as if she was trying to fly. She ducked and weaved, and my familiar ran around her.
Beside me, her mother smiled. “Just what she needs.”
Lucy and Ginnie returned to where we were sitting. My aunt said, “Your daughter really is artistic. You know, this evening after we close the bakery, we’re having an egg-coloring party. Perhaps she’d like to come.”
“That’s a great idea!” I said.
“Colette Devereaux will be there,” Lucy continued. “Ginnie here was her teacher last year, I think.”
Ginnie nodded. “Colette’s a good kid.”
Fern looked torn. “I don’t know. . . .”
Her sister-in-law plopped down beside her. “I know you don’t feel like going out. But Nuala needs to do something fun with other people. Why don’t I go with her?”
“Would you?” Fern sounded relieved. “I know it would be good for her, but I just can’t bring myself . . .” She trailed off.
Ginnie bounded up. “No worries. Just tell me where and when. Nuala? Can you come here?”
