Chapter 7 THE MAGIC WE FIND
THE MAGIC WE FIND
The following morning I met Lara for coffee at Lorraine’s, which was our daily routine when on Summerween vacation.
We’d jog down, reward ourselves with cardamom-spice lattes paired with giant pastries, spend a few solid hours on the beach gossiping about the town, then start planning the food and drinks menu for the rest of the day.
It was a difficult job, but someone had to do it.
Of course, ordinarily Lara and I stayed at the Pink House together.
This was the first time we’d stayed separately.
Though I’d put her choice of accommodations partly down to her being uncomfortable around the Tuckers’ grief, after Jack’s appearance last night, I suspected that Lara was enjoying a Summerween fling of her own.
Obviously, I didn’t begrudge her this. But it was strange.
Lara had apparently invited a guy to Summerween in a premeditated manner.
Not only that, but she hadn’t told me about it.
We shared everything. So why not the fact she was seeing someone?
Not to mention that I desperately wanted to talk about the situation with the Tucker boys. Because although Finn and I had made our way back home sedately on the golf cart with nary a knee touching, there was definitely something going on.
‘Morning, Molly!’ Lorraine was her usual cheerful self, all huge hair and brightly patterned glasses. She had more pairs of glasses than Lara had shoes, which was saying something.
Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her polka-dot apron, Lorraine prepared to give me the rundown on today’s baked goods.
As was our habit, I’d then spend about ten minutes prevaricating over whether I wanted the apple tart or the eggnog-cream doughnut.
Thankfully Lorraine was as good a sport about the whole thing as Soraya at The Scoop, who very patiently allowed me to sample all sixteen flavours each and every time.
Apparently, my indecision was known to all.
‘How’re we feeling after last night’s festivities?’ Lorraine asked, clearly clocking that I’d had a somewhat decadent night. Hadn’t we all. And honestly, it had been restrained compared with what we’d got up to in our teens.
In fact, I’d even managed to check in with my boss before heading off to bed.
He’d sent over a pithy vintage article about croquet and had teasingly asked me to rustle up something while I was away.
He’d be lucky to receive anything other than a write-up on the annual Sandy Balls beach soccer game I always covered, but I said I’d think about it. Emphasis on think.
‘I have that boozy tiramisu if you’re after hair of the dog,’ Lorraine added with a wink. ‘So, what about that burst of magic, hmm? Right when Finn Tucker was playing.’
She raised an eyebrow, and I made a show of digging around in my purse for my phone so that I could pay.
‘Weird, huh?’ I said, not wanting to repeat Lara’s theory that I’d been behind it all.
That our shared emotions had coalesced into a blast of magic, like when a phone signal breaks into a car radio, making that strange electrical stutter.
A theory, which, all right, I shared. Mostly shared. About seventy-five per cent shared.
‘But like you said last night, magic can get strange this time of year,’ I added. ‘And I’m pretty sure there were a few competing spells floating around.’
Lorraine chuckled. ‘I did cast the odd sneaky one to help keep some of the teens standing upright. No boozy tiramisu for them today, let me tell you.’
‘All right, I’m sold on the boozy tiramisu,’ I said. ‘Or the fairy cakes. Ooh, or the pumpkin bread.’
Shaking her head, Lorraine reached for her tongs. ‘I’m going to make an executive decision, since I own the place and all. You can have all three. Just so long as you take back a bouquet of flowers for Rosie and Amelia.’
‘Deal,’ I said, relieved.
She gave me a knowing look. ‘I’ll pick the bouquet.’
‘Deal again,’ I said, with a laugh as I took the box she offered me. ‘Am I that bad?’
‘It’s fine to be indecisive about the small things,’ said Lorraine, as I paid for my order and stuffed a bill in her glass pumpkin tip jar. ‘It’s the big things that you really want to know your heart on.’
‘Like chocolate or vanilla?’ joked Lara, who’d just come through the door, looking dishevelled in a deliberate kind of way. ‘Pinot grigio or pinot noir?’
‘I believe the answer to both of those is: both,’ I said. I hefted the box. Plenty there to keep us busy while I grilled her about this Jack situation. ‘I have our pastry situation sorted. And two cardamom-spice lattes in the works.’
‘Can I do extra, extra whipped cream?’ Lara gave Lorraine her signature batted-lash look, sparking a chuckle.
‘You know I keep extra on hand for when you visit, love.’
Lorraine shook up the canister and pointed the nozzle at Lara’s drink, but to no avail.
‘Must be blocked,’ she muttered, shaking the bottle again. When that didn’t work, she snapped her fingers over it, trying to use her magic to work the blockage free. A demented squirt of half liquid, half cream sprayed everywhere. We all squealed.
‘Weird,’ said Lorraine. ‘I must be feeling the aftereffects of Rosie’s punch. My magic’s all off. How are you feeling, Molly?’
‘All right, I think,’ I said. ‘Although I haven’t really used magic today. All right, maybe a little bit for my hangover.’
Lorraine tipped out Lara’s drink and started brewing another. ‘Let me start over. Sorry about that, Lara.’
I bit my lip as Lorraine poured another latte, but everything seemed to proceed without issue. Even the whipped cream, which this time poured out in a Leaning Tower of Pisa-worthy dollop.
‘Phew,’ said Lorraine. ‘I was worried I’d have to close up shop for the day. Or hire a helper, which sounds worse, honestly. I know it’s hard to believe, but I don’t play well with others. It’s better when it’s just me and my magic.’ Lorraine waggled her fingers, which crackled softly.
‘Spoken just like Mom,’ I said, grinning.
‘I’m honestly impressed she lets your dad take over the business for three full weeks a year,’ said Lara, taking the drink Lorraine passed across the counter.
‘I think he just sends lots of “let’s circle back” emails. It’s probably good for business. Creates a sense of scarcity.’
Lara chuckled. ‘I’ll have to try that. Train my clients into behaving.’
‘Oh, if only that were possible. Here, let me grab those flowers.’ Lorraine hurried off to the flower displays at the front of the shop, picking a bouquet of zinnias that she delicately set atop the box of pastries I was carrying.
‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘You always know exactly what to choose.’
‘It’s a skill,’ Lorraine said cheerfully. She waved, then hurried over to help a middle-aged guy who’d gathered five eucalyptus bouquets and was showing no sign of stopping there.
‘I think he can go to at least eight,’ I whispered.
‘Definitely. Shall we take this party to the beach?’ Lara wiped her whipped-cream moustache with her wrist. ‘Oh my god, the decadence. Let it be known that when it eventually happens, I want my cause of death to be listed as the decadence. You can write my obituary, if you like.’
‘Mm hmm,’ I said absently.
‘Big thoughts in that pretty head, huh?’ teased Lara, sipping her latte as we strolled down the sand-strewn main street. Most of the shops were just starting to open: hungover owners and assistants were stacking tiny pumpkins into pyramids and watering their chrysanthemum planters.
‘Always,’ I admitted, stopping to stroke one of the many black cats that inhabited the cove – all of them related to a single mama stray that no one had been able to catch.
Between various fantasies about the Tucker brothers and Tiff’s 3 a.m. alarm, which she’d set so she could call Damien, I’d barely slept last night.
I’d eventually given up and rolled out of bed at dawn, only to find Rosie already up and wandering around with paint swatches in hand.
She’d assured me that the very early morning was the best time to compare paint swatches, but I hadn’t been able to ignore the tightness of her brow.
‘Guy stuff?’ Lara said slyly, waiting for me at the top of the steps that led to the beach.
Guy stuff, but also grief stuff.
‘I think you have more guy stuff to share than I do,’ I said. ‘How long has this Jack thing been going on?’
Lara picked her way down the steps. ‘He’s surprisingly hot for someone who voluntarily wears a onesie, right?’
‘Definitely an above-average skeleton,’ I admitted, as my toes touched sand.
The beach always felt so good this time of morning. The sand was cool, with only the very top layer sun-warmed. The breeze hummed a gentle tune.
Lara’s eyes scrunched at the corners. ‘And the meat on top of the skeleton is also not bad.’
‘So, you’re dating?’ I pressed as we picked our way across the sand. It wasn’t lost on me that she’d deflected my earlier question.
Lara shrugged. ‘I mean, we’ve been out a few times.’
‘Aha. Just a few times, and yet you’ve dragged him out here to magic central.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘So, did he have anything to say about the weird storm last night? It was a pretty big burst of magic for someone not used to it.’
‘I think he was otherwise occupied,’ she said, with a wicked grin. ‘Plus, you know what guys are like. They’re oblivious. Half the time they can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.’
I chuckled. Lara was not known for her subtlety.
‘So, who invited who?’ I nodded in the direction of the B&B.
‘Wow, detective much?’ Lara scuffed at a shell with her sandal. ‘It’s not, like, a formal arrangement. He just thought the Summerween Festival sounded cool. And our vacation days lined up.’