2. A Proposition
Chapter 2
A Proposition
I ’m like a hummingbird as I flit around my room, trying to gather anything I could possibly need while also trying to pack light. I certainly didn’t expect to push my mother with an ultimatum, but kicking me out with no notice? Nice, Mom. Love you, too. I didn’t realize our relationship was this bad, but maybe I should have.
I pick up my sketchbook, taking just a beat to look it over. I couldn’t go anywhere without this, even if I’m going underneath a bridge. Where am I going? A hotel? I don’t have a friend I can crash with.
The dark walls seem to remind me only of my mother’s dark, golden-eyed stare. The way she was both furious and broken. They close in on me as I fill my purple suitcase.
“Sweetheart, let me.”
I turn to Grandma, standing in my doorway. She places her hand on the leaves of an aloe plant sitting on my desk and snaps her fingers. My drawers fly open, the contents of my room reorganizing themselves and flying into my suitcase one by one.
“Oh,” a gasp wrenches itself from deep in my gut.
Magic.
I barely remember magic being used so freely.
I missed the smell of it. It’s the crisp scent in the air right before it rains. The slight tension, the sharp, refreshing moment before the downpour.
She crosses the room, narrowly missing a flying shirt, and sits on the creaky bed. “I have a proposition for you.”
I sit beside her, an older sketchbook landing in the suitcase with a thwap.
“I own the apartment above my shop. If you would like, I’d love for you to stay there.” She smooths her hand over the floral bedspread.
Huh.
I guess I shouldn’t be shocked she’s offering to help, but I didn’t think she’d offer to have me stay there . The magic shop. I’ve heard it referenced before, of course, but I don’t remember it. I assume Laura and I have been there before, but any time I try to picture it, my brain fogs over like early morning mist.
I know how much she loves antagonizing my mother, but this is more. This is different. Battle lines have been drawn and she’s taking in a traitor. “Thank you, Grandma. I’d love to. Are you sure my things will fit? How big will my room be?”
“Sweetheart, do you...Oh, how precious. I don’t live above the shop. I own the building and rent out the apartment upstairs. My previous tenant moved out a few weeks ago, so you’ll have more than enough space.”
My own space? I’ve never had more than just a bedroom to myself, and Laura has such a big personality, I always felt like anything I had was really hers.
“You’re going to love it,” she continues. “Although I’m not entirely selfless. I would appreciate your help in the shop, since I’ll be letting you stay in the apartment rent-free.”
“There’s the strings.” I smile. “I’d love to help in the shop.”
She nods, snapping her fingers once more. My suitcase disappears.
“You have to teach me how to do that!”
“That’s the entire point, dear. I’m going to teach you how to do that and so much more.”
More? My heart flutters at the thought. That’s all I want— more .
“I’ll meet you outside.” With that, she leaves me alone in my empty room. The room I grew up in. My sanctuary for the past twenty-five years.
I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t the smallest pang in my heart at the thought of leaving here. Despite everything, this is home. The place my father called home.
But it’s time.
I memorize each creak and groan of the staircase as I make my way down. The noise has returned to the house, if slightly muted. Anywhere else will always seem too quiet.
“Will you at least let me come over once in a while?” Laura stands in the way of the old wooden front door.
My stomach twists at the expression on her face. I hate leaving her with Mom. I hate knowing that even though I’m getting out, Laura isn’t. I may only just be coming around to it, but this life we live isn’t normal, and I know Laura needs to get out just as much as I do. But I need this. I have to do this for me. And Laura will have to take that step on her own, just like I am.
“Of course. You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah?” She brushes an imaginary piece of lint off her shirt. “As you should. I won’t make you go out with me tonight, but tomorrow. You promised.”
Shit, I completely forgot. After moving out on her with no notice? There’s no way in hell I’m getting out of this.
“Yeah, I promised. I’ll drive.”
She squeals, giving me a big hug. “You won’t regret it!”
Oh, I will. I always do. But I don’t regret the opportunity to make her happy, to make up for leaving her. I squeeze her heavily perfumed self a little too tight and release.
“I’m only a text away, and you can visit whenever you want. I mean it.”
“I know. Go on, Grandma’s waiting.”
I turn to the interior of the house one more time. I don’t know if I’m expecting my mother to be there—leaning against the staircase or walking into the kitchen—but she isn’t. Just the house, groaning and creaking its goodbye.
An ache settles low in my rib cage. Maybe she really does hate magic more than she loves me.
The irony of all this? Grandma’s shop is just a few blocks away. Our house is in the village of Chagrin Falls, just a couple streets over from the town center where Grandma’s shop stands. Despite the closeness, I don’t expect to return my mom’s house for a while. Not after the way she looked at me.
I walk out onto the front porch and find Grandma tapping her foot at me with a smile. I fall in step beside her as we walk through the cool fall air to the store.
I only look back at the white Victorian house once.
There is no better place than Chagrin Falls, Ohio—the most New England town you can find outside of New England—in the fall. The leaves are a rainbow of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens and the air has that crisp warmth to it that can’t be replicated. Leaves crunch underfoot as we walk, the stars and light from the windows of our neighbors lighting the way. There are no streetlamps in the neighborhood, just in the town center.
Grandma is silent during our walk, something I appreciate. My head is swimming with the implications of everything that happened tonight. I know I’ve done the right thing, but this is going to impact my relationship with my mother for the rest of my life.
“We’re here,” Grandma says as we approach the brick building. The Cat’s Cradle is dominated by a large, frosted bay window that doesn’t allow you to see much farther than the hanging herbs just inside. Pumpkins line the green door for Halloween.
Her shop rests right in front of the town gazebo, in the middle of a row of shops and restaurants. Even from here, the scent of magic in the shop is overwhelming and it pulls me. Like my body wants to take me there, needs to be there. Instead of entering the shop, Grandma opens the private door to the apartment, and we climb.
When I step inside the apartment, my breath leaves me in a whoosh. I’m standing in the kitchen, the floorplan completely open. The only rooms with doors are the two bedrooms and bathroom. The main wall of the apartment is exposed brick, where a nice-sized TV resides. My eyes jump from place to place, unable to settle on one thing.
“Where did the furniture come from?” I ask, taking in the tasteful fluffy couch and armchairs.
Grandma raises a brow. “I’m a witch, sweetheart. Plus, renting out a partially furnished apartment means I can charge more.”
That’s my grandma—ever the businesswoman.
“The apartment is guarded by spells, so there’s an extra layer of protection. I’ve left the keys on the counter, but I’ll show you how to unlock the door without using them. The shop opens tomorrow at nine a.m., so I expect you downstairs at eight thirty sharp. Bring a list of anything you need for the apartment, and I’ll help you out. Once you start getting paychecks you can handle the rest yourself.”
“Paychecks? I thought the apartment was my paycheck.”
“You need independence. Getting a paycheck will help with that until you find out what you want to do. There’s a whole world out there you know absolutely nothing about. It’s time you learned.”
Well, damn, Grandma. Don’t pull any punches.
“Thank you.”
She smiles, pulling me into a hug. “I’ll see you in the morning. Rest, my dear.”
With that, she’s gone and I’m alone in my apartment.
My. Apartment.
A place that is mine . I wander to the window, looking out on the sleepy small town that I’ve called home for so long. It’s only a new perspective, but my hands are trembling with excitement. This is exactly what I’m meant to be doing.
Running to the bedroom, I flop on the familiar floral bedspread and can’t hide my beaming grin. This may be the best night’s rest I’ve had in years.