Chapter 34
Honey
Honey didn’t take a single day off work. Monday morning, she marched into her new job at the Midtown Civic Building. Her heels clicked confidently on the tile floor. The receptionist gave her a smile and handed her a laminated badge. “Welcome back, Ms. Baxter.”
“Thank you, Julia.”
She held her head high as she rode the elevator up to her new floor.
Honey paused in the doorway of her new office.
Floor to ceiling windows looked out over the courtyard, but her desk faced the doorway.
She set to work unpacking her box of supplies.
She laid out her pens neatly, booted up her new computer, and filled her cup with paperclips.
All the while, she kept stealing glances over her shoulder at the window.
Everything was tidy.
She hung up her coat, smoothed her skirt, and then sat down at the desk. She adjusted the angle of her stapler. Then, she did it again. It all looked right, exactly as she’d imagined it.
So why did it feel off?
She shook the thought off just as her desk phone rang.
“Honey Baxter, Assistant to the Director of Arcane Relations of the—”
“Well, hello Ms. Fancy Pants,” Ruby said.
She looked into the headset as if to assure herself this was indeed her office phone. “How did you get this number? It’s supposed to be unlisted.”
“I have my ways.”
There was a crash in the background, followed by a muttered curse and the unmistakable sound of a spray bottle squirting. “Anyway, I dropped off those cans of paints and stuff in your apartment.”
“You can’t keep going into my apartment without permission. Didn’t I lock the door?”
“I have a very particular set of skills,” Ruby said. “Plus, we’re friends now.”
They were certainly friends, though Honey was still adjusting to the change.
Ruby had a way of filling a room with chatter, energy, and brightness.
When all Honey wanted to do was bury her head and the ache in her chest in mind-numbing television, there was Ruby pulling her out of it.
It should’ve driven her mad, but truly, she found herself grateful for it.
The laughter, the chatter, the way Ruby somehow made Honey’s small apartment feel less sterile and more like a home.
It was disorienting, yes, but also a little wonderful.
“That doesn’t excuse breaking and entering,” she said, flipping open her calendar to see what was on the agenda for the day.
“Mm, I’m pretty sure it does.”
“You’re very strange, Miss Castillo.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there at five with takeout, and we can listen to sad music and cry and paint your very white walls a slightly less white shade.” There was a loud squelch through the phone, followed by, “Shit. I got blood on my pants. Anyway, how’s your first day?”
“It’s great,” Honey said automatically.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then the spray bottle resumed squirting. “Sometimes you sound like a robot pretending to be a person.”
Honey sighed. She’d felt that way all morning. This day was the culmination of ten years of hard work and strict standards; yet, she felt like she was watching someone else go through the motions.
“It’s just that the review is today.”
“Are you going to go?”
Honey’s stomach tensed. She glanced out the window, across the courtyard to the smaller, scruffier Municipal Services Building—the one that smelled faintly of popcorn and wet dog and held all the town’s magical oversight departments.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well,” Ruby said, “maybe you should go over there. Just to see how it turns out.”
“I should probably stay here. Keep my head down. My business life and my personal life—”
“Are the same thing,” Ruby interrupted. “Like your hair and your face. It’s one head. Listen, I gotta go finish this job, but really, just go.”
Honey made a noncommittal sound and hung up the phone.
She glanced at the clock. 11:42.
Technically, she had time. The review was just across the courtyard and scheduled for 12:15.
She could swing by on her lunch break. She was going to get the pizza from Jo’s anyway.
Maybe she could take the girls after, cheer them up with a slice and a root beer.
She was an executive now after all. She could probably go over her strict thirty-minute break time.
She winced. What was she thinking? Pizza wasn’t going to fix this. One day back in the office and she was already back to thinking like a heartless bureaucrat.
Before she could spiral further, a firm knock sounded at her office door.
Mr. Aldridge popped his head in. “Ms. Baxter. Here are those quarterly assessment reports.” He slid a file onto her desk.
And then started piling other ones on top.
“And the revised zoning compliance spreadsheet. And the updated proposal templates. Oh, and you’ll need to finish inputting the transportation forms from last week. By end of day.”
When he’d straightened the stack of files, he stepped back.
He paused, then added, “It’s good to see you back.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He turned on his heel and strode out, leaving Honey staring at the pile of folders up to her neck.
At one point in her life, this would’ve thrilled her. An impossible amount of paper. A to-do list that spilled off the edge of the page. Her own office and title and nameplate and authority. It should’ve felt like winning.
But instead, it felt…hollow.
She turned around in her chair and looked out the window.
A woman holding the hand of a young girl crossed the courtyard.
A man talking on an earpiece milled about with his hands in his pockets.
A pigeon pecked at a forgotten hot dog. Life went on as usual, and there, in the center of it all, her wishing well.
A man was standing next to it. He held a coin in his hand, flipping it around his fingers as he stared into the water. She wondered what he would wish for and if the new auditor would approve it.
Turning back to the files stacked on her desk, she flipped open the first one. She buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Weisel, please come to my office.”
No response.
She looked up and could see him, plain as day, sitting at his cubicle across the hall typing away at his computer.
She pressed the buzzer again. “Dean.”
Still nothing.
She pushed back her chair and raised her voice. “Dean!”
He shoved back in his seat and came to her office door. “What did you want, Honey?”
“It’s Ms. Baxter.”
He snorted. “Did you need something, Ms. Baxter?”
“Yes. Please file these addendums under Magical Public Works—Subsection F. That’s F for Fairy Godparent.”
“I think technically they are miscellaneous,” he said smugly, reaching for the top folder.
“And I think technically I’m your superior,” she replied, cool and even. “And if you’re struggling with alphabetical order, I’d be happy to recommend a remedial workshop.”
Dean’s smile soured. “As you wish, Ms. Baxter.”
He left, slapping the folder onto his desk. There, she thought to herself. The first thing checked off her list. She waited for the buzz of satisfaction, but felt nothing.
She turned back toward the window to see if the man had wished. He was still standing there, with his back toward her building.
Then he turned, and her heart jumped.
Honey froze. She held her breath as he very slowly looked up. Right at her window.
“Ethan,” she whispered.
It was ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly see her from that far away. But something in the way his eyes lifted, as if he sensed her watching, made her heart race.
Without another word, she grabbed her coat and marched out the door. Her heels clicked across the floor.
She went past Dean, past the receptionist, and right past Mr. Aldridge who blinked and said, “Is everything alright, Ms. Baxter?”
“Just taking an early lunch!” she called back.
She pushed out through the front doors, breath catching in her throat as the fall chill hit her.
And then she ran.
Literally ran, heels be damned. The crosswalk light was red, but she went anyway. A car honked. She ran across the courtyard, eyes locked on the well and the man standing beside it.
When she reached it, she stopped short, breathless and heart pounding.
“Hi.”