Eva
“Two large pour-overs!” I call out as I trickle boiling water over the dark coffee grounds in the dipper. Mike and Donna step forward in their matching joggers and watch me complete the final step of their usual order.
“There is just something special about your pour-over coffee,” Donna says with a grateful smile.
She and Mike are both freshly retired and come into The Bitter End multiple times a week after their morning jog.
“Tell us your secret.” Mike flashes me a mischievous grin. He knows I won’t because then they’d never have a reason to keep coming back, and they are two of my favorite customers.
Donna smacks him with her folded newspaper, and he flinches excessively.
“I’ll never tell.” I smirk, removing the dipper and sliding their perfect coffees across the counter. They take their usual table under the big windows facing the street. Mike on one side, blowing into his cup while Donna flips open her newspaper and settles in for a relaxing morning.
“Nobody ever compliments my pour-overs,” Riley grumbles and shoves a lavender latte in my hands.
“Lavender latte for Meredith.” I don’t need to check the name on the cup, she’s another frequent flyer at the café.
“It’s because your technique sucks,” I laugh. “You’re too impatient.”
“True.” She shrugs, unbothered.
The espresso machine goes quiet, acquiescing to the carefully curated coffee shop playlist that I have perfected over the years. It’s upbeat, bright, and easily ignored.
With nothing left to steam, whip, or brew, it appears the morning rush is over.
Every table is full. Some have their laptops out with noise cancelling headphones on, others jot in journals or contribute to the low hum of conversation filling the café.
Mike and Donna give each other the occasional smile.
The room is filled with happy, positive energy, and I love it.
“How was date night?” Riley asks. The lightness of the moment is temporarily dulled by the reminder of last night’s reality. I can tell she’s been itching to ask about it all morning, and the fact that it’s taken her this long to ask says a lot about her restraint.
“You know, if our friendship is going to pass the Bechdel test, we’re going to have to talk about something other than Grant.” I’ll torture her a little before admitting to the rough start to the evening.
“That bad, huh?”
“It was fine. The guy has a lot on his mind.”
“I fear the opposite is true. I suspect Grant doesn’t think about much other than his account balance and the title in his email signature.”
I can’t help but laugh. If she only knew that he did, in fact, speak at great length about how he had updated his email signature recently after getting a promotion.
This is the best time of year, chilly mornings have replaced the hot afternoons.
The colors are changing and it feels like magick is everywhere.
It’s an important time of year for witches.
After tomorrow, the nights will start getting longer, giving more time for reflection and being grateful for all that we have.
And to reap what we sow. The bell over the door chimes as Mom my mom and Aunt Paige step in.
“Good morning ladies! Are you here for coffee? Or is this a business call?” Riley asks. They are technically our bosses, but Riley doesn’t show them any deference. It’s one of the things I love about her.
“Business, I’m afraid,” Paige says and heads straight to the back office. My mom slips behind the counter and wraps me in a quick hug before filling a mug with hot water. She dunks a teabag a few times before tossing it in the garbage.
“Perfect timing, Mrs. S.” Riley gives my mom a half hug. “Eva here was about to tell me how she broke up with Grant last night after their disastrous date.”
“What?” she asks, turning toward me in shock. I sense a hint of excitement, not sadness, in her tone. She has plenty to say about my magick, but she usually refrains from weighing in on my love life.
“No. The date was fine. Riley and I were actually discussing how boring it is when women only discuss men every time they see each other.”
Riley snaps her hand towel at me with a grin before wiping down the countertop. I dodge just enough to avoid it connecting with my thigh.
“Any update on the fog?” I ask Mom.
“No, a group of us tried all morning. It’s like a solid wall. Our magick can’t penetrate it.” Worry lines her face. “And that's not all. I did a reading for Mrs. Ashbee.”
“Didn’t you just do one for her last week?” It seems awfully quick, even for Mrs. Ashbee who requests multiple readings a year.
“I thought the same thing! When I asked her, she told me that her daughter-in-law found out she is pregnant with a girl. Mrs. Ashbee is worried the leylines won’t be open in time and her granddaughter’s magick will be held back, ‘dooming her to a life of mediocrity.’” She puts air quotes around the last bit.
Mrs. Ashbee isn’t wrong to be concerned, this has been going on far longer than anyone thought it would. Every year, we hope to have a solution by Samhain.
“Which leads me to the reason we’re here,” she says and takes a sip of her weak tea.
“Paige and I are going to redouble our efforts on the lines and figure out what is going on with the fog. Paige thinks—we both think—it’s time you took over the bookkeeping for the café to free up some more of our time. ”
I knew this was coming. I’ve dabbled here and there with the admin side of the business and know what to do in theory, but I had hoped to avoid this as long as possible.
Even thinking about sitting in an office for hours working on the bookkeeping makes my legs feel jumpy.
Every past attempt has resulted in me getting distracted, and then having to start over from the beginning.
“Sure! I can do that.” I force enthusiasm into my voice instead of reluctance, knowing that it’s long past time I stepped up. I might not be able to contribute to the coven with my erratic and underdeveloped magick, but I can do this.
“Don’t worry, honey, you’ll be great.” Mom pats my hands and joins Paige in the office, no doubt getting everything ready to hand things over to me.
Mike and Donna drop off their empty cups in the black plastic tub with all the other used cups and cutlery.
“Off so soon?” I ask, surprised at their quick departure. They usually spend all morning in their spot.
“Gotta jet, Donna’s got a doctor appointment.”
“Oh no, I hope everything’s okay!” I call out.
“Just getting old.” Donna blows a kiss at me before stepping out into the bright morning behind Mike.
Riley hops up onto the empty counter against the back wall and swings her legs back and forth. I join her, taking a moment to get off my feet before it picks up again.
“That fog, huh?” She grimaces.
“Have you seen it?” I ask, “I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet.”
“Yeah, I went last night. Solid as a rock. Nothing magickal is getting through. However, it seems like the normies can get through no problem.”
“Don’t call them that! It’s so degrading.” I glare at her.
“It’s okay when I say it. My mom isn’t a witch.”
I roll my eyes and elbow her side, sharply.
“What do you want to do for Mabon?” Riley brings up our next sabbat, a much happier subject. I smile because there is no need to ask, the answer is obvious.
Mabon is our favorite holiday, and we always do the same thing: put up an altar for the autumn equinox and bake something tasty that makes my house feel extra cozy.
Pretty much do exactly what my family has been doing for generations.
The tradition makes me feel especially close to my grandma Iris, who passed a few years ago.
“The usual? Or do you want to do it at your place this year?” I offer.
“Your house is just so much more witchy than mine!”
She’s not wrong. My house is witchy as fuck, and I love it.
A customer comes in and we hop down to get back to work. I do a double take before recognizing the woman from last night. “Oh hi! You’re back. You barely missed us yesterday.” I greet the woman with a smile.
She responds with a curt nod, and I get the message. Some people aren’t here to chat, they want to get their caffeine and to get out as quickly as possible.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” Mom drops a huge pile of loose papers on the counter next to me. “Just put them into the spreadsheet, like I showed you, and I’ll take it from there.” Her eyes jump to the customer waiting at the counter.
“Lena.” Her eyes widen for a beat before she clears her throat and eyes the woman suspiciously.
“Robin.” She deadpans, not even trying to fake a smile.
The two names hang in the air, no one daring to say more.
“What brings you to Raincrest?” Paige says flatly, walking into the already awkward conversation.
“I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face here.” Mom stares daggers at the woman. Lena, apparently.
Unbothered by Mom’s harsh glare, Lena turns toward Paige. “I’m just here for a cup of coffee for now. After all, nothing compares to The Bitter End.” The sneer in her words sets my teeth on edge. She’s clearly here to start shit, not to order a cappuccino. “A perfect name, don't you think?”
Riley and I watch the exchange with horrified intrigue. I’ve never heard my mom talk to someone like this. What is going on?
“Don’t worry, Robin, when your coven finally goes extinct and mine takes over, I’ll make sure this little gem survives.” Lena looks around the café like it’s already hers.
Maybe it’s my Scorpio nature, or maybe it’s the 400 mg of caffeine I’ve had this morning, but I step up to the counter.
“Lena, is it? We’re all out of coffee today, sorry.” I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’ve got my coven’s back every single time.
“Then I’ll have tea.”
“Nope, outta that too.”
“Water?”
“Fresh out.”
“There is plenty of coffee in Holloway. Get the fuck out.” Paige crosses her arms.
Lena looks Paige up and down with a leer before scoffing at me. “Enjoy your paperwork!” she says in a sing-song voice on her way out, taking the bad energy with her.
Riley breaks the tense silence. “What was that?”
“You let me know if she ever shows up again, okay?” Mom says, tracing a protective sigil on her chest.
“Only if you tell us what that was all about,” Riley says, prying for more details.
Paige pulls my mom toward the office and mumbles, “a lot of history and some bad blood.”