1. Two Couples, One Bed #2
Luna had just tucked into her risotto when the front door chimed once, then again, as two couples tried to squeeze through the doorway. Elbows bumped. A tote bag snagged on a coat. One hissed, “Just go,” and the other snapped, “I am going.” They spilled into the lobby in a tense clump.
A four-person traffic jam, Luna thought. Always a good omen. “Good evening, welcome to the Stargazer Inn. How can I help you folks?”
The first couple looked to be in their twenties: two women in long velvet coats and matching wedding rings, the happy-but-dazed expression of newlyweds all over their faces.
The second couple was older, probably in their sixties, and Luna’s heart sank as she recognized the wife, her fifth-grade teacher Mrs. Hartwell.
Her companion, in a flannel shirt and a Red Sox cap, was likely her non-magical husband.
Both couples approached the desk simultaneously. “Excuse me,” said one of the younger women, a blonde with intricate braids. “We’re Sage and Rowan Ashford. We have a reservation for the honeymoon suite?”
“Actually,” Mrs. Hartwell interjected, “I believe there’s been a mistake. You’re Luna, yes? I remember you from school. Have your math skills improved at all?”
“Not . . . um, not significantly,” Luna admitted.
“Well. My husband Bill and I reserved the honeymoon suite for our anniversary weekend.”
Uh-oh. Luna checked the reservation book, and sure enough, she’d double-booked the most important room in the inn. “Riiight . . .” She stalled for time while her mind raced. “Let me just . . . check something . . .”
“Is there a problem?” asked Rowan, the other newlywed. She had the kind of direct gaze that suggested she didn’t suffer fools . . . at all.
“Well . . . it appears there might have been a small scheduling . . . situation.”
“You gave away our room.” Sage’s voice rose. “Didn’t you?”
“Not exactly gave away . . .”
“This is our special night,” Bill noted. “We’ve been married thirty years.”
“Well, we just got married today—this is our actual honeymoon!”
The honeymoon suite was booked solid for months, and there was literally nowhere else to put either couple.
“You know what, guys?” Luna brightened as an obvious solution presented itself to her mind.
“The honeymoon suite is enormous. It’s got two separate seating areas, a massive bathroom, a little kitchenette. You could share!”
No one spoke for a long moment. Luna could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the corner. It sounded like, tsk, tsk, tsk.
“Share?” Sage repeated the word as if Luna had suggested they perform a ritual sacrifice in the lobby. “Share the honeymoon suite?”
Mrs. Hartwell’s eyebrows had climbed nearly to her hairline.
“I mean, you’re all witches—well, mostly witches,” Luna amended, glancing at Bill. “You’re basically family! And really, when you think about it practically, it’s the perfect solution. What difference does it actually make? Everyone gets to stay, everyone gets access to the amenities.”
“What difference does it make?!” Sage repeated again.
“Luna,” Mrs. Hartwell drew upon her elementary-school-teacher voice, “perhaps you don’t quite understand what couples do on their honeymoons?”
“Or anniversaries,” Bill added with a cough.
“Look,” Luna replied, “I know what fucking is, obviously.”
Mrs. Hartwell gasped, and her husband became suddenly fascinated by his shoes.
“Wow, you don’t have to put it like that,” mumbled Sage.
“I’m just saying . . . It’s quite a big suite! Look, I’m sorry but we’re completely full until July.”
“No,” Rowan said stiffly. “Because we’re leaving. Come on, Sage. There are other inns.”
“Wait!” Luna called out desperately. “Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can ask some other guests to share, or . . .”
But the newlyweds were gone. The older couple exchanged a look, and Mrs. Hartwell held out her hand for the room key. “We’ll keep the reservation. But, Luna dear, you might want to look into some sort of hospitality course. Or sex ed.”
As they headed upstairs, Luna caught sight of movement through the window. Two figures were crossing the lawn toward the inn—her older sisters, Scarlett and Delilah.
Ohhh, perfect timing. They get to experience the full extent of my latest disaster.
The door swung open just as the newlyweds swept past, nearly colliding with Scarlett in the doorway.
“Whoa!” Scarlett stepped back, steadying herself against the doorframe. “Where’s the fire?”
The brides didn’t slow down. “Ask the idiot at the front desk,” Sage snapped over her shoulder.
Scarlett and Delilah both turned, gazing at Luna with contrasting expressions, like ancient masks of Comedy and Tragedy.
A notorious lover of chaos, Scarlett looked delighted with the drama.
But Delilah, whose portrait could appear in the dictionary under competence, had an expression of pure judgment.
“What happened?” Delilah asked, her voice already taking on that dangerous quiet tone.
Luna slumped forward, resting her forehead on the desk. “Double-booked the honeymoon suite.”
“You what?”
Luna lifted her head. “It was an honest mistake—”
“An honest mistake?” Delilah strode to the desk and snatched the reservation book. As she flipped through it, her eyes grew wider with each page. “Luna. What is this? ‘Wedding thingy. Honeymoon. Rooms. Dinner, 40ish. Weekend, May.’ Are you broken, Luna? Has your brain literally broken?”
“Del, come on,” Scarlett tried. “We all struggled with this job—”
“Not like this!” Delilah slammed the book closed. “This is the fourth disaster in as many weeks.”
“I said I was sorry . . .”
“Do you know how hard Mama worked to build the Stargazer’s good name? How many years Scarlett and I spent maintaining it?” She turned sharply toward the back office. “I’m telling Mama. This has to stop.”
“Delilah, c’mon, don’t do that,” Scarlett said reasonably. “You know that snitches get stiches.”