Chapter 9 #2
“It was either tonight or next week, and I cannot listen to Louise complain for another seven days or I will be forced to take drastic measures.”
In Meemaw’s vocabulary, drastic measures indicated something very magical and very messy.
“I’ll see you at seven.”
“Bring a bottle of wine. We finished the one I had last night. Nothing cheap and nothing from California or Oregon.”
“What do you have against those states?”
“Nothing against the states. It’s their grapes I can’t stomach.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a wine snob.”
“It seems we have a lot left to learn about each other, dearie. Good thing we’re playing a game tonight that fosters that kind of knowledge.” I could practically hear her smirking through the phone. “See you tonight, Maya.”
I glanced at the floor, where Jinx was plowing through a bowl of chicken mixed with kibble. “Game nights are supposed to be fun,” I told the cat. “Tonight will be the opposite of fun.”
She ignored me, fully intent on devouring every morsel of food.
“I’m taking one for the team,” I continued. “If Bernice and Louise become friends, that makes all of our lives easier.” It had to be hard for Bernice, a werekat newcomer trying to fit in with a tight-knit group of witches. I gave her props for continuing to make an effort.
“You have an appointment in the morning,” I told Jinx, as I rinsed off the dish and placed it in the dishwasher.
Jinx turned toward me and hissed.
“You can blame Justine. She insisted you have your shots and whatever else domestic cats are supposed to have.”
Jinx responded by bolting from the kitchen like a streak of black lightning.
I rooted through my pantry to see whether I had any acceptable wine bottles for Meemaw. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I occasionally received a gift from a Neighbor after helping them with a security issue.
“Here we are.” I pulled a bottle from the shelf that had been given to me by a group of Neighbors I’d rescued from the sauna after a technical malfunction that could’ve fried them to a crisp.
Chianti was both Italian and red. I couldn’t vouch for the price, but I doubted Meemaw would check. She wasn’t that petty.
I called goodbye to Jinx and drove my golf cart to Magnolia. I kept my eyes wide open for any sign of oni or shadows. I couldn’t grow complacent just because there’d been no recent reports.
“Hello, ladies,” I said, handing the bottle to Meemaw. “No Bernice?” I asked, my gaze flicking from witch to witch.
“She’s late,” Louise said, her nostrils flaring. Her black eye patch was decorated with a skull and crossbones. I hoped this wasn’t indicative of the night ahead of us.
The door opened again, and Bernice entered the condo right behind me, vibrating with nervous energy. “So sorry I’m late, everyone. I was at the clubhouse for the group mosaic project, and it ran over.”
“What’s the group mosaic project?” Margie asked.
“We’re each assigned a small square with specific materials. Mine is glass. When we’ve finished, we’ll join it together with other squares to form one large mosaic.”
“Like making a quilt,” Catherine said.
“Same idea, except ours is closer to an art installation.”
“Is there a theme?” Catherine asked.
“Dreams.” Bernice scanned the room. “Is there a place for me to sit?”
“I thought we’d get comfortable in the living room for a change,” Meemaw said, gesturing to the sofa. “We spend enough time at the dining table.”
“Those chairs bother my back anyway,” Joan said.
Bernice joined the others in the living room. There were no more seats, so I tossed a throw pillow on the floor and sat. As the youngest person in the room by decades, I had no reason to argue.
“How do you make a dream out of glass?” Louise asked.
“That’s part of the artistic challenge. The lady next to me has to use magazines, which seems a fair bit easier, but I didn’t want to complain.”
“My mother used to visit me in dreams,” Bernice said, “so I’m using that as the focal point for mine.”
“You’re a werekat,” Margie said. “How would your mother be able to do that?”
“We have fae blood somewhere in my maternal line. Nobody knows how far back, but my brother and I used one of those genetic testing kits to confirm it.”
“Your mother doesn’t visit you anymore?” Louise asked.
“No. I don’t know why. They weren’t frequent enough that I recognized the last time as the last one.” Bernice threaded her fingers together and rested them on her lap. “At some point, I realized it had been years since I’d last seen her.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I miss her voice.”
Louise patted her hand. “I bet it means your mother is dancing the night away in the afterlife.”
Bernice sniffed. “She did love to dance, although sometimes it was mistaken for a seizure. Her style was her own.”
“The mosaic sounds like a lovely project,” Catherine said.
“It is. I’m glad I decided to join the group. I appreciate that it’s all women too. I don’t think that was the intention, but that’s who showed up.”
“Women have always been at the forefront of any activity worth doing,” Joan said.
“Any movement too,” Meemaw added. “We are the true protectors and caretakers of this world, and men know it. That’s why so many of them resent us. They mistakenly believe it’s their natural role and that we’re somehow usurping it, which is complete and utter bullshit.”
“You must’ve been popular during the women’s suffrage movement,” I said.
“Oh, I was arrested more times than I care to remember. People today don’t realize how dangerous it was for women to take up that cause.
They take the vote for granted. Those men were like cornered animals.
They saw their hold on society loosening, and so they tightened their grip.
You’re probably the only one too young to remember this, Maya, but do you realize a woman in this country could be prevented from having her own bank account until a federal law was passed in 1974? That’s less than a century ago.”
“That must’ve infuriated you,” I said.
“You’d better believe it. I’d been an independent woman for longer than most of the men had been alive, yet I wasn’t deemed competent to handle my own money.” Her lip curled. “They were lucky I exercised restraint.”
“Who wants wine?” Margie asked.
All hands went up, including mine. Alcohol might be the only way to survive the evening, although I’d have to be careful not to overdo it and say too much. By trying to help Bernice and Louise, I’d put myself in a vulnerable position.
Margie opened the bottle at the kitchen counter and returned with two glasses at a time until we each had one.
“What are we playing?” Louise asked. “Crazy eights?”
“No cards tonight,” Meemaw said. “We decided on something different.”
Catherine jumped in, eager as ever. “It’s called All Alike. It’s a game where you have to find common ground with your teammates. The more traits you share, the more points you get,” she explained.
Traits I could do.
We divided into teams. Naturally, we paired Bernice with Louise, who wasn’t too pleased.
We ignored her glares of resentment and carried on.
I was paired with Joan, which I found a little intimidating.
The woman was a legend. Catherine, Margie, and Meemaw formed the third group since we had an uneven number of players.
The first topic was education.
“That’s not as easy as it seems,” Joan said. “Girls didn’t attend school in the era of my youth.”
“Then we have that in common. I didn’t attend middle school or high school.”
Joan blinked in shock. “But you’re only, like, twenty.”
“Thirty-five.”
“Twenty, fifty. It’s all the same to me. Were you homeschooled?” Joan looked me up and down. “Hmm. Your fashion choices do suggest homeschooling.”
“I was.” Sort of. Better to let her believe I was homeschooled than the alternative.
“What was your favorite subject to learn?” Joan asked.
“History.”
“Then Evermore is the right place for you. I like history too.” She typed on her phone. “How many points do we get?”
“I’m not sure it matters,” I said in a quiet voice.
Joan’s gaze flicked to Bernice and Louise. “Right. Let’s say two, shall we?”
“Time’s up,” Margie said. “Next topic is romantic relationships.”
Joan and I burst into laughter simultaneously. That boded well for our partnership.
“When was your last relationship?” Joan asked.
“Define relationship.”
“Someone you introduced to others as your girlfriend or boyfriend.”
“In that case, never. When was yours?” I asked, in an effort to shine the spotlight on Joan instead.
“The cocksucker I made famous.”
“You haven’t dated anyone since your divorce?” I asked.
“No. I have no desire to tether myself to a man ever again.”
“Not even a loose thread?”
“Not even a ‘come hither’ glance.”
“Well, this is a crappy topic for us, isn’t it?” I said with a laugh. “I guess that’s our common ground: we’ve sworn off relationships.”
Joan gave me a cursory glance. “You’re still young. Why aren’t you interested?”
“The island has limited options for my age range.”
“What about before that?”
“I was focused on my career.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Your career as a bounty hunter?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “It involved a lot of travel. It’s hard to form relationships when you’re constantly moving from place to place.” It was far more than that, but this was enough information to prevent more probing questions.
“What about sex?”
My mind immediately conjured an image of Vale, which made me choke on my mouthful of wine. Joan whacked me between the shoulder blades.
“What about it?” I managed to ask in a raspy voice.
“Excessive travel seems like an easy way to bed ’em and forget ’em.”
“Not my style.”
“I’m old and crotchety. What’s your excuse?”
I thanked my lucky stars when Margie called time again. I did not want to delve any deeper into this conversation, and I certainly didn’t want to experience another Vale jump scare. Just because the demigod was attractive, powerful, earnest…
“Your face is beet red,” Joan said.