Chapter 3
JULIET
I head to Gabe and Maggie’s for dinner that night, where I meet Maggie’s cat Jasper for the first time.
He’s a fluffy orange and white thing, who immediately greets me with all the sniffs, weaving though my ankles and carefully inspecting my boots.
I guess I pass whatever test he’s giving me, because after a minute, he sits back, looks at me and blinks slowly.
I blink back in greeting. He meows once, as if to say hello, before turning and disappearing down the hall, his giant tail standing up and curved like a question mark.
Okay, then.
Maggie grins at me. “I think he likes you.”
I unzip my coat and hang it on the hook in the foyer. “I think he smelled Flick on me. Any chance Jasper is a fellow murmurkin?”
Her brow creases. “What’s a murmurkin?”
Good to know I’m not the only one who’d never heard of them. “Well, according to the book Spenser showed me, they’re an offshoot of domestic cats who can understand English and like to engage in matchmaking. I guess they’re vaguely supernatural? And have a tendency to be right about everything.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s…something else.”
“It was news to me too,” I say, adding my hat and scarf to the hook. “Apparently, they also choose their owners.”
“Huh,” she says as she leads me down the hall, past an entry table sporting a giant bouquet of winter flowers. It must have come from Bloom & Vine. “He did kind of choose me. He was hanging out in my yard for a while before he deigned to come in. And I think he picked his own name.”
“Did he play a role in you getting together with Gabe?”
She blinks. “Now that you mention it, I think he kind of did. Wow. That’s unsettling.”
“Well, there you have it,” I tell her. “Sounds like he could be a murmurkin.”
“Sounds like who could be a what?” Gabe says as we enter the kitchen. He’s standing at the stove, looking comfy in a sweater and sweats that accommodate his own fluffy tail, stirring a pot of soup.
“You have a magic cat,” I say.
His brow furrows. “Come again?”
Maggie tells him our theory as she sets the kitchen table. The room is warm and homey, with honey-colored wood cabinets, traditional white appliances, and walls painted a soft, buttery yellow. The soup makes the whole room smell delectable, like garlic and celery.
Before long, we’re settled in our seats, talking, laughing, and slurping up Gabe’s delicious meal.
Along with crusty bread, baked potatoes, and wine, it’s a hearty meal on a chilly night.
Once again, a sense of gratitude for these two washes over me.
I’ll never be able to repay them for all the help they’ve given me.
“So,” Maggie says, “how exactly did you end up here? I mean, I know you lost your job, but what happened with Braeden? Did you finally kick his loser ass to the curb? And what on earth is going on with your mom? Her social media posts are wild.”
“Ugh.” I take a gulp of wine for fortitude. “Braeden told me that it had become clear in the time we were together I would never be the kind of woman he wanted.”
Maggie wrinkles her nose. “What the hell does that mean?”
“And how long were you together?” Gabe adds.
“Two years. In short, he wanted a tradwife. He was annoyed that I had a job and my own apartment, that I didn’t cook his dinner every night, that he was responsible for his own laundry, that I wasn’t ecstatic to pop out his babies, et cetera”
Gabe rolls his eyes. “Typical manchild.”
“Exactly.” I wave a chunk of bread at him to emphasize the point. “In retrospect, I don’t know why I stayed with him for as long as I did. At the time, I thought our life was perfect. Now I can see all the red flags.”
“Mmm, hindsight is 20/20,” Maggie muses, slathering butter on her potato.
“As for Mom, you know how she is. She believes every bonkers post that shows up on social media—weird shit like drinking laundry detergent to cure cancer—and has formed a questionable relationship with an AI ‘person.’” I put air quotes around the word and both Maggie and Gabe cringe.
“She relies on this friend way more than she should. Next thing you know, they’ll be engaged.
She’s been like this ever since the divorce, but it’s getting worse. ”
“That sounds…not great,” Mags says. “Like borderline psychosis. Does she need an intervention?”
“Oh, definitely,” I say, drinking more wine. “Not that it would help. Anyway, enough about all that. Braeden is in the rearview and I deal with Mom one day at a time. What do you two have going on? How’s the new business venture?”
Maggie grins and Gabe shoots her a stupid-in-love glance.
“Great!” she says, bouncing in her seat.
“We just did this big workshop for the community and it was a huge success. Business at the hardware store is way up and I think we’ll be able to launch our new ventures really soon.
We’ll actually be able to go to people’s houses and show them how to fix up stuff! ”
“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks. We’re proud too.”
I really am happy for Maggie. We’re close in age, and while I was settling for a bland relationship and losing my job, she was buying a house, falling in love, and starting new businesses. I can only hope that I’ll find the same kind of success here that she has.
We eat in silence for a few moments before Maggie speaks again.
“Oh, Jules. I’ve been meaning to ask if you have plans for Saturday night.”
I snort. “Are you kidding? I’ve lived here for four whole days. Of course not.”
“Good. Vienne does pub trivia on the third Saturday of every month. You’re coming with me. I’ll introduce you to some friends, we can have drinks, and you can flex that big brain of yours.”
I grin. Trivia is one of my favorite things, along with jigsaw and crossword puzzles. “Count me in.”
JULIET
Maggie takes me to the same parking lot as the café where I had lunch on my first day in town, but instead of heading to Cool Beans, we swerve to the pub that shares the property: Hip Hops.
My brain does its thing with the names: Cool and Hip are basically synonyms, plus beans for the coffee and Hops for the beer.
Cute. I chuckle at the wordplay, then tune back into Maggie as she explains that a couple owns both businesses: Gillian runs the coffee shop, and her wife, a succubus named Vienne, manages the bar.
“Pub trivia night is always a blast,” Mags explains. “Besties and brews—what more do you need?”
I chuckle. She knows that the trivia is the draw for me. But hey, if I get the chance to make some new friends in the process, all the better. I’m not really the solitary sort. I enjoy how interesting people are far too much to be a loner.
We go inside and grab a booth. It doesn’t take long for two more ladies to join us.
“Juliet, this is my friend Liana,” Maggie says, introducing me to a pretty, curvy Asian woman in a floral dress.
“She has a baby dragon.” Maggie says it casually, like it’s perfectly normal to have a fire-breathing pet.
Then again, maybe in this town, it is. “And this is Glee, a fellow content creator,” Mags continues.
“We met at the thrift store.” Glee has pink-and-purple hair, giant brown eyes, a septum ring, and tattoo sleeves climbing her arms. She looks a little like an extra-funky Megan Fox.
“Nice to meet you both,” I say.
“We should get drinks,” Glee says.
“And snacks!” Liana chimes in, sliding into the booth and grabbing a menu.
I’m about to join her when I spy a familiar curly bob sitting alone at the bar.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, and make my way over.
Sure enough, it’s Ellie, a woman I’m starting to know from my shifts at work.
She comes in every day. She’s pretty in a Kewpie-doll sort of way, with a rosebud mouth, upturned nose, and big blue eyes framed by heavy fringe.
“Ellie? I thought that was you.”
She looks up from her drink and blinks at me. “Do I know you?”
“Juliet,” I say. “From the bookstore. I’ve seen you in there several times.”
A small smile blooms on her face. “Oh, hey.” She pats the barstool next to her. “Want to join me? I always come in for trivia night.”
“Are you by yourself?”
She nods. “Yeah, I usually come alone.” She seems a little sad, and I wonder if she lacks friends.
“Why don’t you come sit with my group?” I point to the round booth, where my cousin and her friends are laughing.
Ellie’s eyes go big. “I don’t know. That’s a large group and I don’t really know any of them.”
I shrug and lean in conspiratorially. “Me either. I just met two of them. I usually get anxiety with strangers, but I’m trying to work on it. It would help to have another friendly face at the table. Please?”
She takes a deep breath and nods, grabbing her drink. “Let’s go.”
I lead her to the booth and introduce her as we slide in. “All right, team. Let’s kick ass at some trivia.”
Maggie already has the electronic tablet we use to submit our answers, and we were careful to pick a booth that gave us a good view of one of the monitors, so we can keep an eye on both the questions and the other teams’ scores.
The game starts and the first round is straightforward. Lots of pop culture questions about musicians, films, and sports players. We cruise through it with ease, then order a fresh round of loaded nachos as we settle in for round two.
The first question pops up on the screen.
This sweet breakfast bread, commonly baked in logs and rolled in breadcrumbs, is a staple in Filipino cuisine.
Liana bounces in her seat. “Pandesal,” she whispers, reaching for the tablet to put it in.
What is another name for a tear duct piercing?
Glee grins and grabs the tablet, typing in ‘canthus piercing.’
I glance at Maggie. “Were these questions formulated specifically for us? Next thing you
know, we’re gonna get some kind of DIY/construction thing.”
Mags laughs. “I have no idea where Vienne gets her questions, although I did tell her we’d be here tonight.” She shrugs and sips her beer. “I’m just grateful we have a diverse group of smart ladies making up our team!” She raises her glass and we all follow suit, clinking them together.
The next question appears on the screen: What is the Japanese art of decorative rope bondage called?
Ellie turns pink and leans forward to whisper. “Shibari.” I shoot her a glance and her blush deepens. “I’ve seen it in books,” she adds.
I grin at her, giving her a playful nudge. “Me too. I would have gotten it if you hadn’t.” She seems painfully shy, bordering on what might be an anxiety disorder. I’m glad she’s sitting with us and participating, though. I like her.
Another question appears: What is the only food that never spoils and has been found in ancient Egyptian tombs?
Maggie, Glee, and Ellie all shake their heads. Liana and I make eye contact and whisper in unison: “Honey.”
We grin at each other as we submit our answer. The questions keep coming, and our group keeps answering, almost like we’re experts in different subjects. Even when the trivia is tough, someone on our team always manages to get it.
“The last couple of questions will be hard,” Maggie warns. “Vienne likes to stump as many people as she can. I’ve been here more than once when no one got the answers right.”
I narrow my eyes. “Challenge accepted.”
We snack and chat as we wait for the final question of the round. When it appears, several players throughout the pub groan.
What is the phobia of bellybuttons called?
I look around at my team, but their faces are all blank. Not a problem. I reach over the nachos for our tablet and input my answer: omphalophobia.
“How do you know that?” Glee asks.
Maggie laughs. “Juliet knows all kinds of weird stuff.”
I shrug. “It comes from years of working in libraries. You never know what someone will need you to look up. I just happen to remember most of it. It’s kind of a hobby.”
We get another round of drinks and wait for the final question of the game. At the moment, our team—which Maggie named Harmony Hotties—is up by three points. But the final question is worth five, so our win isn’t guaranteed.
But then the question appears, and it’s way easier than I anticipated.
What is the only number that, when spelled out, has its letters in alphabetical order?
I lean into my group. “I don’t know if it’s the only number that does that, but I think the answer she’s looking for is forty.”
We put it in and wait, and it doesn’t take long for the bartender to declare us the winner, rewarding us with coupons for our next visit.
We cheer and clink our glasses. Another hour passes before we finally make our way out of the bar, and I walk home, enjoying the crisp air on my face.
I may have overdone it a little on the drinks and salty snacks, but I don’t care. Tonight was fun.
When I fall into bed, I can’t stop smiling. Life in Harmony Glen is looking sweet.