Chapter 3 DRINK IN THE WILD AIR
DRINK IN THE WILD AIR
Rosie hadn’t been exaggerating about having the perfect outfit for me.
Holding the brim of my witch’s hat, which was decorated with rows of fresh daisy chains, I twirled in front of the mirror in Rosie’s bedroom. Cleo, always a critic, pawed at the chiffon that peeked out from the bottom of my vintage floral dress.
‘You’re a vision,’ breathed Rosie. ‘I knew it would be perfect.’
White with a pattern of summer flowers, the dress shimmered at my hips, cutting just above the ankle. The neckline was more daring than anything I’d ever managed outside of a bikini. A slim halter-style string with pearl highlights was all that saved me from a potential wardrobe malfunction.
‘What’s all this giggling?’ Mom asked from the bedroom door. She was mid-email, as usual, but she had at least half of her attention on me, which was a win.
I spun on the spot for her, and her eyes widened.
‘Well, you scrub up well,’ she said, her tone tinged with something that sounded genuinely admiring. ‘That’s a beautiful dress. And the daisies are a nice touch. Wait, are those from our college ball, Rosie?’
Rosie nodded proudly. ‘The preservation charm is still going strong.’
‘You’re wearing a piece of history there, Molly.’ Mom was regarding me like she might a storyboard. Her mouth tightened slightly. Ah, she’d found fault. Of course. Her creative team never managed to present an ad campaign concept without a barrage of notes. And I, apparently, was no different.
‘Your nails,’ she said. ‘May I?’
I blinked. My mom, offering to do my nails?
‘Sure,’ I said after a moment. ‘I’d love that.’
Mom had always been immaculately presented, and Tiff as well – both in a simple, no-nonsense way that conveyed to the world that they were excellent at what they did and should be taken seriously for it.
I’d always embraced the casual and the comfortable, because watching a game for hours and then sitting and writing about it required elasticized waistbands and sensible shoes. And ample wrist support.
Guiding me back out to the living room, Mom held my hands up to the light streaming in through the stained-glass windows, considering.
‘Back in a moment,’ she said, then strode off to the enormous bedroom she stayed in whenever we visited. The few times that Dad had come along as well, I’d heard him testing whether it echoed (it did, and Mom had very quickly put a stop to his operatic efforts).
Momentarily, Mom returned with a wooden box that rattled with a selection of nail-polish jars. With a huff at the state of my nails, which were rustic, to put it mildly, she set my hand down on the table. Then she uncapped a russet-toned bottle and began painting.
As she worked, magic sparkled lightly around my fingers, tidying my cuticles and extending my nails to an acceptable length.
‘This is way easier than actually trying to look after them,’ I said, sipping at the Aperol Spritz that Rosie had kindly delivered. Although she’d hurried off again after, muttering something about containers for leftovers. I don’t think she’d actually paused since we’d arrived.
‘Desperate times call for magical measures,’ Mom said, concentrating on the autumnal pattern she was carefully applying. ‘And you know that I don’t believe in magic as a quick fix.’
‘I for one think there’s merit to taking the easy way out,’ said Finn, who’d strolled back in from the back garden, where he’d been watching TV on his laptop. ‘You think I got these muscles the old-school way? Weights, cardio and protein shakes?’
He flexed a bicep, indicating that I should poke at it. I did, with the hand that Mom hadn’t yet worked her nail-polish spell on.
‘Magic, right?’ he said, blue eyes twinkling. ‘What do you think: is there room for a beautiful young woman on there?’
‘I’m sure there’ll be someone at the Summerween festivities happy to oblige you,’ I teased.
‘Her words cut deep.’ Finn pretended to be wounded. ‘Amelia, if you’re looking for a date tonight … I do come Rufus-approved.’
I chuckled. ‘Wow, Dad’s really lowered his standards.’
‘If I need my own personal court jester, I’ll come find you,’ said Mom, shaking her head. Although, from the slight quirk at the side of her mouth, I could see she was amused, despite herself.
Much like Lara’s, Finn’s flirtations knew no bounds: everyone from the grizzled fishermen on their boats to cheerful Lorraine at the coffee shop was fair game.
He cast his attention over the world without restraint, but rather than coming off as sleazy, there was a certain comfort in it.
The effusive words, cheeky smiles and magnanimous gestures were just Finn being Finn.
‘Shoo now,’ said Mom, waving a hand at Finn. Her vintage tennis bracelet sparkled. ‘I have nails to focus on.’
‘Let me know when you’re ready to do mine,’ Finn said easily. Taking a seat at the table, he pulled out a bottle of purple polish and waggled it. ‘What do you think, Molly?’
‘It really brings out the bruises I’m about to kick into your shins,’ I said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Oh, she’s a cruel mistress.’ Finn unscrewed the cap and carefully painted the nails of one hand, using his own magic to erase the bits that sloshed over his skin. He held the hand aloft. ‘There. Not too shabby. Where’s Noah?’
‘Painting,’ said Rosie, swinging by again, this time with a cooler bin loaded with drinks and snacks.
‘Ah, he’s trying to work through the whole Meryl heartbreak,’ said Finn knowingly. ‘I could’ve told him that she wasn’t the one for him. She’s no Molly, is she, Molly?’
He nudged me, making me grin.
‘Leave your poor brother alone, you,’ said Rosie good-naturedly. ‘Besides, he and Meryl have been broken up for months now. He’s doing just fine.’
‘Fine is subjective,’ whispered Finn to me as he blew on his drying nails.
Rosie set down the cooler by the front door next to the ever-growing collection of picnic items: two other coolers, a stack of blankets, several foldable chairs and a jumble of wildflowers to make crowns and bracelets from. ‘Anyway, I’ll knock in a few and make sure he doesn’t get left behind.’
‘He can always catch up with us,’ said Finn with a shrug.
‘We were just about done, anyway,’ said Mom, checking my fingernails. She regarded my outfit thoughtfully. ‘You know what? Come with me. Finn, why don’t you go help your mom.’
As Finn cheerfully followed after Rosie, hand waving to dry off his nails, Mom led me to her giant bedroom.
As always, it was perfectly tidy: the Kantha-stitched bedcovers were pulled tighter than one of her client meeting up-dos, and her clothes had been neatly put in the wardrobe.
On the pink dresser, perfumes and makeup were arranged so carefully they seemed part of a spell, and a David Ogilvy book sat on her nightstand, bookmark in. The room even smelled perfect.
Opening the dresser drawer, Mom pulled out a small jewellery box, picking through it until she found the pair of earrings she was after. A gleaming cloisonné set decorated with birds and flowers, with a small tear-shaped pearl at the top.
‘They go so well with the dress,’ I said, as she slipped them into my ears, mindful of my damp nails. ‘Thanks, Mom.’
She smiled softly as I spun to and fro in front of the dresser mirror, astonished at my own transformation. I felt like a witchy version of Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries, which I’d watched about half a dozen times with Rosie.
‘Any time, Molly.’
It was odd – yet lovely – to see the warmth in her green eyes as she regarded me.
It was a warmth usually reserved for Tiff, who was so like Mom in every way.
I supposed it was easier to be magnanimous when you were looking at an accurate reflection of yourself rather than a distorted one, which was what I was.
‘Mom? Are you in here? We’re getting ready to—’
Tiff stopped short at the door. She was dressed in a simple blue-and-white-striped sundress and casual leather flip-flops, and of course looked a million dollars.
Gold hoop earrings swung from her ears, and her half-moon necklace – the one whose other half I owned but rarely remembered to wear – glowed softly against her throat.
She was in the process of donning a stunning half-moon crown decorated with a spray of gold stars.
She was so striking that I almost wished I’d gone the moon goddess route instead of the witchy one.
‘You look great, Molly,’ she said, sounding a tad too surprised for my liking.
All right, so I wasn’t typically ballgown ready, but I wasn’t a slob. I did bathe on a daily basis, and I was familiar with a hairbrush. My boss had even managed to take a website-worthy headshot of me on the very first go.
‘Right back at you, Queen Tiff,’ I replied, unable to keep the touch of sharpness from my voice.
Mom had already turned her attention to my sister, tenderly smoothing the fabric of her skirt and fiddling with the stars on her crown. The all-too-rare moment I’d had with her was gone. Well, things couldn’t simply change on a dime, could they? There were laws of thermodynamics and all that.
‘Mom says we’re leaving in five,’ called Finn from the front of the house. ‘I’ll try to drag Noah out from the art studio. A quick smoke spell should do it.’
‘Finn,’ I heard Rosie warn. ‘Don’t even think about it. We’re not having a repeat of the fart charm event.’
‘Thank goddess I had daughters,’ whispered Mom. ‘Imagine dealing with fart charms. Your dad is bad enough.’
‘You’re definitely brave leaving him to handle the clients while you’re away,’ said Tiff.
Mom snorted. ‘Why do you think I’m surgically attached to my phone? It’s pre-emptive damage control. Also, we’re bidding against Unabashed for that tech client I mentioned, and I refuse to lose to Shauna.’