9. As You Well Know
As You Well Know
FERN APPLETON
By Friday morning, Fern had become increasingly concerned that she would not, in fact, be able to pull off the store’s full fall transformation in time for the Pumpkin Festival.
All the seasonal blooms were thriving around the bookstore, and she had gotten plenty of compliments on that.
But her magic did not extend beyond her plants, and the rest of the work was exhausting.
It seemed she had not taken into account how much longer this particular project would take with only her to gather the leaves, sort them, and put together the wreaths with twine and hot glue. Fern sighed in exasperation.
She turned on the shop computer and started going through the emails. Two boxes of new books were scheduled to arrive today and Fern had completely forgotten about them. They would need to be inventoried, unpacked, and shelved.
Perhaps if she came back in on Sunday afternoon, she could get them out for purchase for next week.
There went her whole weekend, up in smoke.
She knew she ought to have worked on bookstore projects during the previous weekend, but she had so wanted to revel in the first chill days of autumn in her cozy little home.
Now, realizing she likely wouldn’t be able to take a proper break from the shop for the rest of the month, Fern’s eyes began to well with tears. She sniffed loudly, then hurried to grab a tissue and buried her face in it.
Despite her best efforts to cry silently, little sounds slipped out. Her shoulders shook. When she glanced toward the door to triple-check that there were no customers present, she caught her familiar watching her.
“What is the matter, my witchling?” Bramble asked from his cozy perch atop a bookshelf.
“There isn’t enough time!” cried Fern. “There’s no way I’ll get it all done in time. My parents will be so disappointed in me.”
Her fluffy companion tilted his head to one side. “Will they? Or will you?”
“I mean, of course I’ll be disappointed. But I promised them that I could do it and now it feels like I’m failing them,” Fern wailed into the empty shop.
“My dear girl, take a breath,” said Bramble softly. “Count to three. There you go.”
Fern’s shuddering breaths escaped her lungs faster than normal. Still, she managed to follow her familiar’s instructions, with significant effort. Slowly but surely, her breathing slowed to a regular pace and her tears became a trickle instead of a stream.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered, despair clinging to her words.
“Can’t do what, witchling?” asked her familiar.
Tears sprang to her eyes again as she admitted it aloud. “I can’t get the bookstore ready in time by myself.”
“Is that such a terrible thing?” Bramble hopped down to the counter and rubbed his soft head against her shoulder. “What would help?”
“I…I don’t know. I need more hands. More magic. More time,” Fern mumbled angrily.
“Well, I never recommend messing with time magic, as you well know,” the cat replied calmly.
She huffed. “I know that!”
“Which of those other things can we acquire?” Bramble asked, those green eyes landing on hers as she tried not to break down into tears again.
“None of it,” Fern whispered. “I don’t have any close friends that I can ask. You don’t have opposable thumbs. My magic is only good for growing things, not for all the other tasks.”
“Are you absolutely certain about that?” the cat spoke gently but firmly, placing one fluffy paw on her right hand.
Frustration mounted in her at the soothing tone he only used when she was upset. “Yes! Of course, I am. If there was anyone I could ask, don’t you think I would have called them by now?”
“My dear little witchling,” Bramble continued. “Will you allow me the rest of the day to see if I can find you some help?”
“What?” Fern gasped, her eyes narrowing.
He batted at her long lavender locks, a sly smile on his face. “I have a few ideas. You trust me, don’t you?”
That made her want to roll her eyes. Bramble had been her first and most consistent companion, her childhood friend and confidant.
Obviously, she trusted him implicitly, even after the rare occasions when he had led her astray or gotten her into trouble.
Still, the cat could be wickedly clever when he wanted to be—she ought to at least give him a chance.
With a sigh, she nodded. “Fine. Until the end of the day.”
Bramble leaped gracefully from the counter to the ground, landing silently on his fluffy feet.
He turned around to look at Fern once more, then waved with his tail and padded toward the store’s front doors.
His black- and- white fur warmed as he passed by the roaring fire in the sitting area and he allowed himself an indulgent stretch to absorb the extra warmth before heading out into the blustery day outside.
At the diner next door, everyone seemed quite busy. Raised voices from the kitchen met his ears as Bramble slipped in behind a customer. No good, he thought, pushing the door just enough to be able to step back onto the Main Street sidewalk.
The enchanted coffee and tea shop proved to be much the same—harried employees behind the counter mixing drinks, the owner in the back kitchen baking dozens of pumpkin scones. Timers beeped and espresso machines whirred and orders were called out to the waiting crowd at the end of the counter.
“Perhaps another apple chai tea would soothe her nerves,” the cat wondered aloud. “If only I had a way to pay for it and carry it back to the bookstore.”
With a defeated sigh, Bramble accepted that this shop would not provide him with the extra hands or magic that his witchling needed, either.
He continued down the cobbled streets, jumping up into windowsills to get a look at the employees and customers alike, hoping to spot someone who looked bored or lonely.
The bustling sidewalk required the cat to bob and weave between legs, hopping over boots and pumpkins until he reached the Pumpkin Hollow Town Library. He knew it would be less busy there, so Bramble slipped into the building as soon as someone opened the front door.
Inside, he found the quiet a startling contrast to the busy street. Faint music played overhead and a few patrons wandered about, perusing the shelves. People spoke in whispers and murmurs, soft voices in this revered place of learning. He smiled.
Many things had changed over the decades of his life, but this small thing remained the same.
The soothing, reliable presence of the library always provided an escape from the hectic lives most of the witches lived these days.
Bramble weaved between shelves, searching for the one witch he knew would be here—Sparrow Blackburne.
“Yes, the young adult books are over here,” said a familiar voice. “We have a wonderful selection with a wide variety of options for you to choose from.”
There, two shelves further, he located the dark- haired witch.
She spoke to a mother and her daughter, a girl of probably ten years or so.
As the decades passed, it became harder for Bramble to tell the minute differences in human age, which meant he could be entirely wrong about her age.
He shook his head. That doesn’t matter. I must speak to the witch.
As the pair walked away, following her pointed finger to the correct section of the library, he leaped gracefully onto a nearby table and cleared his throat.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Blackburne,” Bramble said, his tone polite.
“Oh!” Sparrow startled at his sudden appearance. “It’s you. The familiar.”
He gave her a slow smile. “Indeed, it is, witchling. How do you do on this fair day?”
“Perfectly fine, Mr. Bramble,” replied the dark-haired witch with an amused look.
“I understand that you do not work on weekends here at the town library,” continued the talking cat, as if she had not spoken. “Are you, perchance, busy this weekend? Or will you have some down time?”
Sparrow tilted her head to one side in curiosity. “I…do have plans this weekend. Next weekend, though, I am mostly available. Is there something I can help you with?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Bramble’s smile curled up at the corners. “It seems my Fern requires some extra hands to complete her tasks before October first. She will gladly pay you in coffee or tea and treats from Enchantresso, if you would be willing to lend us your assistance.”
“I see,” murmured the witch, drawing the word out.
“Perhaps your sister may be available as well? The ginger- haired witch?” the cat asked.
At that, Sparrow chuckled. “I’m sure she would be willing to help out a bit to make sure the bookstore is ready for the Pumpkin Festival.”
“Splendid, splendid!” replied Bramble, all green eyes and wide grin.
“What…what time should we arrive next Saturday?” the witch asked before he could slip out the door.
The cat looked back over his shoulder and met her eyes. “As early as you like. There is much to do.”
With that, the familiar hurried back down Main Street to his little witchling and the bookstore they spent most of their days in.
He would tell Fern the good news in a little while, when he had decided how best to inform her.
If he didn’t approach it just right, she might panic at the extended time with the pretty librarian—Bramble would need to step carefully.
Nevertheless, he preened in the sunlight spilling in the front windows, exceptionally proud of himself for solving Fern’s problem so swiftly. He truly was a clever cat.