Chapter 3 DRINK IN THE WILD AIR #2
Tiff and I shared a look. Mom and Shauna had been adversaries since they’d started out as interns at the same ad agency decades ago.
They’d both risen up through the ranks at record speed, but after Shauna had been poached by a competing agency, Mom had decided it was time that she rule the world of advertizing.
The rivalry between them after that had grown legendary, measured in magazine rankings and industry award statuettes.
It was impressive, really, if a bit self-destructive.
‘Leaving in four!’ called Finn from the kitchen. There was a crackle of magic, and the clock in Mom’s room bonged, startling us all. Finn and magical restraint were unacquainted.
‘I think that’s our cue to leave,’ I said, adjusting my witch’s hat. I felt a fizz of anguish as my nails caught against the rough fabric: oh shit, had I messed up the polish?
There was a mild fabric smear on my left index finger, but other than that, Mom’s handiwork was still intact.
I sent up a quick thanks to the whisperwinds, wondering who’d catch the whisper, and when.
That was the supreme joy of the whisperwinds: you never knew quite how they’d travel.
They moved better from some places than others, of course – the clifftop had the best range – but you could start a whisper from anywhere, if you put your mind to it.
The whisperwinds always kicked up around Summerween, and especially during the festival.
No one knew exactly why, but we assumed it was something to do with the magic that accompanied the in-between of the seasons.
Not to mention the sheer volume of dreams and wishes that the town’s visitors sent up in the air after drinking more than their fair share of cider and sangria.
The cove’s unique geography probably had something to do with it as well.
We headed back out to the living area, each calling dibs on certain picnic items by the front door.
‘Are we bringing the hand wagon?’ asked Mom, who never missed an opportunity to streamline a process.
‘How about I pack everything in the Mini,’ suggested Tiff. ‘I won’t be drinking, anyway. I want to get back to call Damien before he has work. The time zones are such a challenge this time of year.’
‘Oh, c’mon,’ said Finn, wrapping an arm around Tiff’s shoulder. ‘You’re going to let some long-distance boyfriend ruin Summerween? Just put him on a FaceTime call and prop him up on the picnic blanket. He’ll have a blast. Besides, no need to take the car. We can use the golf cart.’
‘Golf cart?’ This was news to me.
‘I bought it for Mom a few months back. It’s great for zipping around the local roads. And for chasing geese off the golf course. Not that I’d ever do that. We can all fit if we squeeze. And if Noah walks along behind us.’
‘The walk will do me good,’ said Noah, whose voice carried a complete lack of enthusiasm. He’d just been wrestled back into the house by Rosie, who’d apparently had to use all of her skills of persuasion (and possibly some magic) to make it happen.
Unlike Finn, who’d changed into lilac shorts and a button-down with a skull and crossbones pattern, and who’d spent quite a bit of time getting his hair just the right amount of tousled, Noah was in the same jeans and black T-shirt from this afternoon.
Although both were somewhat paint-spattered after his recent session with the easel.
A smudge of white paint dusted his cheek.
I went to point it out, but Rosie got there first. She swooped in to scrub the paint away, leaving Noah to grumble about being attacked.
I felt the tiniest of pangs watching her do it – I’d wanted to be the one to deal with the paint smudge.
‘All right,’ said Rosie. ‘Everyone grab something, and let’s load up.’
As Finn strolled off to the garage to fetch the golf cart, we obediently divvied up the picnic items between us.
‘Wow, that’s quite the ride,’ I said, as the vintage pink golf cart trundled up.
Finn hit the horn, and the cart beeped happily.
‘Isn’t it great? I couldn’t resist. Besides, Mom deserves the best.’ Climbing down, he wrapped Rosie in a hug, giving her a loud kiss on the forehead. ‘Load her up!’
We set to work packing our gear – and then ourselves – into the cart, storing the coolers in the footwell and propping Finn’s guitar against one side of the frame.
‘You’re playing tonight?’ I asked.
‘It could just be ornamental,’ said Finn, grinning. ‘Nothing like a guitar for turning heads.’
‘You really think he’d pass up an opportunity to serenade the ladies?’ teased Rosie, as she squeezed into the front seat with Mom and Tiff, leaving just the backward-facing bench for me and the boys.
‘C’mon, Mol,’ said Finn easily, pulling me up next to him. I stumbled, grabbing on to him for balance, letting out an unbecoming squeal as I did. Ah, the Aperol Spritz was starting to kick in.
‘There’s room, Noah,’ called Finn, as Noah regarded us with a frown.
Finn gestured generously at the seat, which was definitely short on space.
Still, I scooted to one side so Noah might fit.
‘Although we’re definitely nearing the weight limit.
It’s the quads,’ Finn explained faux-apologetically, pointing to his legs.
I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t wrong.
‘I’ll walk,’ said Noah, who seemed distinctly unimpressed by this whole situation. ‘I’ll see you down there in a few.’
‘Suit yourself,’ called Finn breezily. ‘Hold on to your hat, Molly. Mother, let the chariot roll!’
Rosie jabbed the accelerator pedal, and the golf cart trundled off down the driveway and onto the street. Finn and I made a show of waving regally at anyone we passed, and of blowing effusive kisses at any wildlife we spotted.
A breeze kicked up, hitting my bare shoulders and making me shiver. Finn snapped his fingers, crafting a magical, windproof bubble around me. At least I could let go of my witch’s hat.
The town was busy: costumed groups wandered about, some shopping for last-minute watermelons or booze, others singing along tipsily to the golden oldies playing over the speakers set up on the lawn.
Dressed-up dogs stopped traffic – including us – as everyone paused to snap selfies and offer some well-deserved pats (I couldn’t decide who I liked more: Fairydog, a furious chihuahua, or Batdog, a smiling pug).
Ahead of us, strings of fairy lights glowed faintly, highlighting the vendor tents and paper streamers that marked the festival lawns.
Rosie braked to say hi to approximately half the town, including Pandora and her wife, Ulissa, a stunning half-goth, half-Barbie couple who ran the Deep Cuts hair salon together, and Emmanuella, an extremely glamorous former Hollywood starlet who ran a high-end party supply shop called Fun at Parties that specialized in novelty everything.
‘I feel like Cinderella arriving at the ball,’ I whispered to Finn as we finally pulled up to the lawn with a crunch – Rosie was still figuring out the finer points of golf-cart handling.
‘As you should.’ Finn held out a hand to help me down. He did so with the other behind his back, leaning fully in to the Prince Charming vibe. Which, given his bright-blue eyes and floofy hair, wasn’t too big a stretch.
I accepted gratefully, carefully climbing down the cart’s side step, trying not to trip in my sandals. Finn’s hand dropped to my waist as he guided me down, and my cheeks burned as his cheerful gaze met mine.
For the first time, I was sensing that there was something more in his look than just kindness. I was sure of it. And I felt …
I wasn’t sure how I felt.
Finn was easy on the eyes, obviously, and being around him was always an absolute blast. But I’d not seriously considered him as a possible romantic partner before.
Hold on, was that how I was considering him now? What’s more, was that how he was considering me?
Thankfully, Rosie broke in, saving me from my thoughts.
‘Shall we?’ she said, adjusting her flower crown and leading us off towards our pre-claimed blanket.
‘We shall,’ I said brightly, but then faltered as, over her shoulder, I saw Noah crouched a few steps away, patting a surprisingly sedate cat dressed in a snail costume. His eyes met mine, then shifted to Finn, who was grabbing his guitar case off the cart.
The look in his eyes was unmistakable.
Jealousy.
Somehow, in the two years that had elapsed since our last Summerween together, my relationship with the Tucker boys had changed entirely. And apparently, I was the only one who hadn’t been in on it.