62. Sixty-Two - Book Club
Sixty-Two - Book Club
Ana
“We know you didn’t read the book,” Celese says, glancing at me slyly.
The other women crowded around the tables pushed together in the back corner of the tea room giggle and I smile along with them.
“I did, as a matter of fact.” I take my copy from my pocket and set it on the table in front of me.
Scraps of paper stick out from the pages. Notes—some of them in Viggo or Penny’s handwriting—from the questions and sometimes concerns that arose as we read it together.
I don’t tell them that I only managed to finish it an hour ago while finishing up some potions that required slow simmering.
Morganna will have been done with it for a week at least and have read four others since. But, it doesn’t matter when I got through it, just that I did.
My sisters rush in late, Mina dragging Morganna by the wrist. They are the last two and Morganna makes excuses while Mina asks Sabine a dozen questions about the traveling party that was in earlier today.
And, of course, the conversation never actually winds up getting to the book as Leaf tells us the party is headed for the Agnastian Mountains in the morning.
I grimace into my tea as Leaf mentions yeti hunting. The last person who actually found a yeti came back missing his teeth, half of his party, and three of his fingers. A fall had caused the first and second. Frostbite had caused the third... and I don’t think the ice-forged axe he received for his troubles was worth the price.
Talk of Yetis turns into discussions of winter plans and preparations somehow turns into an argument about whether or not the mayor needs to allocate funds for paving more of the surrounding cart paths.
By the time we’ve gotten to how we’re going to convince Misses Keeling to join us next time, the sky outside has gone fully dark and Mina has fallen asleep with her head resting on Celese’s lap.
While the others switch from options for enticement to good old-fashioned blackmail—Sabine says it may be the only way to get her sister to come—Morganna pinches at the shawl she made for me. Picking up the fabric, she tests it with her fingers like she’s not sure it’s going to hold up for another minute. Sometimes, the way she scrutinizes her work makes my heart ache.
“I love it,” I tell her again
“I’m glad.” She glances at Mina and asks, “How are the plans for moving Mina into the potion shop progressing?”
“Peter came by again today. He’s started the pre-build and is coming in for more measurements, as needed, in the next day or two. He’s got some things he needs to finish for the Centaurs north of us.”
She nods. “We have a big commission for them as well. I am so curious about what they have planned.”
“You could always ask.”
She nods with a shrug, agreeing and not at the same time.
“I think Mina could move in in as little as two months.” Maybe that’s more hope than a realistic plan, but I am going to hold on to that hope.
“And then you’ll move to the manor house and we’ll all get to see what mom does when she’s finally left to her own devices.” She takes a deep breath. “I hope we survive the initial meltdown.”
“She won’t be that bad.”
Morganna looks at me like I’ve forgotten something important. “Won’t she?”
“Who won’t be what?” Mina asks, yawning as she sits up and rubs her eyes.
“You won’t fall asleep before I get you home.” I say, slipping my undiscussed book back into my pocket and standing. “Come on.”
I cajole her up, too. “I will carry you if you make me.”
Groaning, she straightens, stretching and popping her back. “The last time you carried me, I had a stomach ache for a week. Your shoulders are pointier than they look.”
Celese giggles at that, and I wonder if Sabine or Leaf slipped some spirit into their teapot while I wasn’t looking.
It doesn’t matter now. I say goodbye and Mina wraps her arms around me in a hug as we awkwardly walk down the stairs. I hug her back and we work out a swaying rhythm on our way home.
“Did you always want to make potions?” she asks, yawning again.
It’s a question I’ve answered a hundred times. A dozen times to her, alone.
And I give her the same answer I always do. “I don’t know. But I want to make them now, and that’s all that matters.”
“What if you stop wanting to make them?”
I shrug and it moves her as much as it moves me. “Then I guess I’ll figure something out.”
“You’re going to have little elf babies to take care of soon,” she buries her face in my shoulder. “Or vampire ones? Either way, eventually they’ll start making potions too. I can already see it.”
“No babies for me yet.”
She looks up at the lit windows of our house and grimaces. “It’ll be too soon for mom.”
The woman in question stands at the table, unwrapping her coat and shawl when we come in. She looks at us with a bright smile, and I’m glad of it.
“You’re home,” I say, hoping I sound pleased. And I am, mostly. I didn’t realize we’d stayed so late. “How did you do?”
Mina says something quiet and ineffectual and escapes to her room.
“I won,” she says, and then, under her breath with a smug satisfaction, “As usual.”
I know my mother doesn’t cheat—the tavern has a hundred wards against luck artifacts and winners spells—but I also know that loss is a rarity when she sits down to cards.
There’s a reason we only play tap and shove in a room with the windows shuttered.
“They’re installing the statue tomorrow. You should be able to see it from your shop. Don’t worry, I know how important your work is to you.”
There’s a strain of bitterness in the words, but I ignore it. “Thank you, I do appreciate that.”
She glances at me, her gaze going to the shawl I haven’t removed. “I don’t suppose you’re staying here tonight, are you?”
“No.”
“Well, don’t forget your responsibilities.” Her jaw is tight when she turns away, leaving her things strewn across the table.
I consider slipping into my room and using Dorrian’s hand to escape unnoticed, but I don’t want her to question how I left.
So I leave my bedroom door open when I step inside and I wrap a few things I don’t actually need up in a little bag. And I don’t bother to make any more or less noise than I would normally.
I see her watching me from her window as I set out into the night.
Something about her calm worries me more than screaming would have.