12. Cottagecore
Chapter 12
Cottagecore
G randma invites Laura and I for dinner with her friends at her home before my first magic lesson. Which gives me time to decide if I want to ask her about daemons or keep that to myself.
Would she support my desire to hunt them? I honestly have no clue at this point.
Those thoughts are overtaken by curiosity as we turn onto a dirt path in the forest. I’ve never been to Grandma’s cottage.
When Grandpa left, Grandma bought the house I grew up in for her and Mom. She stayed there when Dad moved in, and when my parents had Laura and I. But once he died, she moved out.
No one ever told me why she moved out, despite me asking almost every day for two months. All I remember is the silence as she walked out the door with her bags already in her little car.
I can taste the tingle of magic in the air as we approach the cottage, proving that Grandma gets no unwanted visitors.
The cottage itself is straight out of a fairy tale. It’s a two-story white-brick with wood accents and ivy climbing gracefully up the sides. It’s a secluded paradise surrounded by a garden the likes of which I’ve never seen. Herbs, flowers, vegetables. Many I couldn’t name.
“Damn, Grandma, this place is amazing ,” Laura says with a gust of breath from the back seat.
That’s an understatement.
Grandma chuckles, pulling up next to her home. “Thank you. I’ve taken a lot of time crafting my space.”
As we step out of the car, the scent of chrysanthemums and pansies dances around me, mixing with the fall leaves that sway in the breeze.
“Come, come.” Grandma opens her forest-green front door and herds us into the house. “This is home.”
Home is the cottagecore house of most wannabe-fairies’ dreams. I expect a bunch of forest animals to be cleaning around the next corner. The wallpaper is a floral pattern on a green that matches the front door. The furniture is cozy, a mix of creams, browns, and wood. I look for the stereotypical knitting basket and find Rosie sleeping on it.
“I expect you both to assist me in preparing dinner—and tea afterward,” Grandma says as she walks into the equally floral kitchen.
“Are you going to teach us how to do it magically?” Laura asks, getting into Grandma’s personal space.
Grandma grins, rolling up the sleeves of her flowing dress. “It’s the only way to cook, darlings. I will not, however, incur the wrath of your mother any more than I already have today, so Laura, you’re only allowed to watch.”
The pout is almost legendary. Laura doesn’t fight it verbally, however—she simply walks over to the table and sits in one of the antique wood chairs. That same look is on her face from earlier. I wanted to call it jealousy, but it isn’t that. At least not completely.
Grandma motions me over to stand before what would seem to be an ordinary cookbook if not for the warm, shimmery undulations of power leaking from it. It laps at my skin like a gentle breeze. It draws me closer.
My hand, almost of its own accord, reaches forward. The leather warms underneath my fingers as I stroke the cover. It’s similar to Household Spells , but older. Worn. Beloved.
Grandma smiles fondly, warmth in her gaze. “My grandmother gave me this book when I was around your age, Hazel. She and her mother wrote it together as she grew up. It has been added to by my mother and by myself, and your mother as well. It is time it sees additions from the next generation.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I whisper.
She nods. “No one does at first. That’s why you have me to guide you.”
I stand at her side as the sound of Laura chopping vegetables floats over us.
The chicken rests in a deep roasting pan, surrounded by potatoes and broth. With a wink, Grandma lifts her hands and rhythmically moves them over the bird.
Nothing happens. Is she just messing with me? She has to be.
Wait. No. The bird is shining? With each wave of her hands, a new layer of magic coats the meal. I didn’t realize I could see magic, but there it is. It’s an iridescent shine, a little thicker than air. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking.
Another flick of her fingers and the vegetables fly in front of my face and into the roasting pan. Herbs fly in from the other direction. She murmurs a few words, and everything glows with an earthy warmth. A sunshine warmth that reminds me of a summer day. A crackle disturbs the air and the glow fades.
She nods and places the pan in the preheated oven.
“And I’ll be able to do that?” I ask in awe. The way she was so casual...It’s strange watching someone use magic as if it were part of their very essence, while I’ve been kept from it.
Grandma nods. “You will soon find that magic is as easy as breathing. You can both embrace this part of you, if you so choose.”
Laura plays with a lock of her hair, refusing to meet Grandma’s eye. “I’ll go set the table.”
My eyebrows raise as she leaves the room. She’s never seemed so young; even when she was a little girl she was always precocious.
“Laura, my dear,” Grandma says, following her. “You said in the car you had questions. I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know that is in my power to share.”
A grin breaks on Laura’s face. “Anything?”
I squeeze her hand as we sit down, happy to see her smiling again. “You’ll regret that, Grandma.”
We sit together around the dinner table as the scent of cooking wafts in. Rosemary, thyme, and sage.
“So, first of all.” Laura’s face is all business. “If there’s a witches’ market, then that means there’s communication between magical beings that doesn’t involve humans. So, cough it up, Grandma. How do you all stay in touch?”
Good question, Laura. Damn.
“Well, we certainly don’t use pigeons. This is the twenty-first century, Laura. We use social media like everyone else.”
“There’s little witchy pockets in our apps?” I ask.
Grandma laughs. Laughs! “Of course not. We have our own apps.”
Laura’s head cocks. “Wait. What?”
“We have our own apps. For protection, of course. No one wants Salem to happen again, and privacy is quite limited on human apps. I can show you both after dinner if you’d like.”
Laura and I are nodding vigorously before Grandma stops speaking.
“Is there a witchy counterpart to every app?” I ask.
“I’m sure we’ve missed a few of the more ridiculous apps. But witches must make a living, too. We have tech witches, artistic witches, medical witches...” Grandma trails off with a smile. “There’s a whole world out there. A world that has pride and embraces who they are.”
The anger that lives under my skin threatens to flare. I’ve been denied this world for over a decade. Who knows the person I could have been if I’d been raised in the magical world? Who would I be if my powers had been encouraged, not suppressed?
Would I have friends? A purpose in life?
Grandma’s eyebrows furrow as she reaches across the table to hold my clenched fist. “Breathe. There is no future in anger, only more anger.”
I lock eyes with her, allowing her calm breathing to regulate my own. I can only control my decisions going forward, not my mother’s decisions in the past.
“ Anyway, ” Laura says. “Are there magical dating apps? Because if there are, I need to know about it yesterday.”
I laugh despite myself. Of course that’s where Laura’s brain goes first.
“There are dating apps, yes.” Grandma rolls her eyes. “I will not be walking you through those.”
My phone buzzes and I sneak a look under the table as Laura and Grandma banter back and forth.
Noah: I hope you’re doing well today. I’d love to see you on Friday, are you free?
Does he have perfect timing or does he have perfect timing? My heart threatens to leap free of my chest and into my phone.
Hazel: I am very free. What do you have in mind?
Very free? Yikes.
Noah: It’s a surprise. I’ll see you after work.
“Earth to Hazel?” Laura smirks.
Grandma shakes her head, a fond grin on her face. She stands and leaves, presumably to check on dinner.
“Do you need any help?” I call after her.
“Don’t change the subject! Who are you texting? Is it that guy from the other night? Tell me everything, and don’t leave out a single detail.”
Well, I knew this day was coming. I couldn’t keep Noah a secret forever, but I thought I had more than a week, at least. Although considering how nosey Laura is, I’m lucky I was able to keep him to myself for this long.
“Yes, it’s the guy from the other night.”
Laura squeals. “I knew you liked him! Spill all the beans!”
The clinking of dishes comes from the kitchen as Laura and I bend closer together over the table.
“His name is Noah.”
“Noah is a hot name, but we already know he’s adorable . How many times have you seen him? Have you...?” She waggles her eyebrows. “Y’know?”
“ Laura ,” I hiss. “We are in Grandma’s house and she hears everything.”
A cackle comes from the kitchen over the oven beeping.
I raise an eyebrow at Laura. We’re literally in the house of a witch, did Laura really think she wouldn’t eavesdrop?
A genuine smile breaks on her face. “You aren’t getting out of this conversation so easily. I won’t forget.”
If only I could be so lucky. I expect I’ll be subjected to a full interrogation at the soonest possible time. Laura has never been able to ask me about a guy before—she must be practically salivating.
“As I was saying earlier,” Grandma interrupts. “All magical apps can be found through the magical app store. Salem. It’s impossible to find without another witch assisting you. You will now find it on your phones.”
“The fun I’m going to have on the dating apps,” Laura sighs wistfully. “If only you could be my wing woman.”
A jolly knock patters the front door, saving me from Laura’s imaginings of two sisters on the prowl.
“Coming in!” a familiar voice announces as the front door opens. Grandma emerges from the kitchen to greet four women around the same age as her. I recognize one as Dotty, the woman who came into the shop on my first day.
“Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to my granddaughters—Laura and Hazel. Girls, this is Dotty, Vera, Natalie, and Penny.”
They’re like the magical Golden Girls . Each one dressed more witchy than the next. It’s a sea of silver-blue hair, chunky necklaces, and flowing, floral dresses. It’s muumuu manor over here.
Dotty smiles at me, earrings clacking. “It’s nice to see you again, dear.”
Grandma claps her hands. “Let’s eat!”
The headlights of Grandma’s car slice through the night as Laura and I sit in silence. She lent us her car, saying that one of her ladies would drop her at the shop for training so I could take Laura home first. I think they just wanted to gossip alone over tea for a little bit.
Grandma’s car is doused in her scent—lavender and smoke—and it stings my nostrils with its intensity.
“Well, now that we’re alone...” Laura was gazing out the window, but now turns to me. “I want the rundown on Noah.”
I smile despite myself.
“Look at you,” her voice is laced with awe. “You really like him.”
My cheeks heat. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want to know about him?”
Laura huffs. “Literally anything! Where does he work? How many times have you gone out? Is he a good kisser? Have you let him bend you over your kitchen counter yet? Does he have any cute friends that don’t drink as much as that one at the bar?”
Jesus.
“He works at a publishing house in Cleveland. We’ve gone out twice.” I give her a pointed look. “I’m not setting you up with one of his friends.”
“Way to ignore the actual questions I want answered, Hazel.”
I sigh. “He’s a wonderful kisser.”
The shit-eating grin on her face is practically too big for the car.
“Calm down.” I laugh. “You look ridiculous.”
“I’m just excited for you. You’ve lived like a nun for the last twenty-five years and you deserve to have someone in your life who makes you happy.” If I’m not mistaken, there’s a little bit of guilt in my sister’s eyes as she says that. “Even if you won’t give me all the juicy details.”
“In my defense, for the first thirteen of those years I thought boys had cooties.”
Laura smiles. “Some boys do. Which is why you always use a condom.”
“LAURA.”
“Am I wrong? I’m not wrong. Sexual health is an important part of becoming sexually active. I had the exact same sex talk as you did and I’m telling you, surprise to literally no one, Mom left out a lot.”
I’m going to drive us into a tree to escape this conversation. A really old, big tree that would kill us instantly.
“I’ll drop you off at the shop, you can walk home,” I say.
Laura’s eyes drop to her lap, fingers twisting in a lock of her golden hair. “Are you never coming home again?”
It’s the same reaction she had at Grandma’s. The way she shrinks into herself, becomes almost timid...It’s unlike her. Laura is loud, in your face, beautifully brash. And it scares me.
Is my being gone changing her?
“It’s complicated. I have a lot of anger, and honestly, it’s pretty obvious that Mom does, too. I think the space is good for us right now.”
“She misses you. She refuses to talk about it because she’s just as stubborn as you are, but she does miss you. She worries about you.”
My throat constricts as my eyes prickle and burn. My emotions are a jumbled bundle of cords that I can’t untangle. Anger, sadness, love—I can’t make sense of it.
“I didn’t say that to...” Laura pauses. “I don’t want to guilt you into trying to talk to her. I just wanted you to know that she’s not the stone wall she pretends to be.”
I sigh. It’s not her fault that she’s caught in the middle of me and Mom. She’s never been in the middle of us, if anything I’ve always been in the middle. The protector. I can’t be that person anymore, though. I can’t protect Laura for the rest of her life. I have to start protecting myself.
“Laura, I love you. While I’d do anything for you—honestly—leave this alone.”
“But Hazel?—”
I cut her off with a hand on hers. “Leave it alone.”
She nods, squeezing my hand.
The headlights illuminate the town square, and the gazebo covered in leaves in front of the shop. I park in the open spot right in front, giving her hand another gentle squeeze.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
Once we’re on the sidewalk I pull her into a hug, the cold fall air chilling my bare arms.
“Do you want to stay the night? Slumber party?”
Despite knowing I can’t protect her, I don’t like the quietness. Part of me needs to know she’s okay. Even though there’s a risk that letting her into my space will eventually make it her space.
She shakes her head. “No. I need to go home. I’ll text you tomorrow though, and I’ll insist on a slumber party another night this week. Okay?”
“Okay, Laura.”
I stand outside the shop, watching her until she turns down a side street.
I didn’t get to ask Grandma about daemons, or anything, really. But for now, I’m much more concerned about Laura herself, and how every interaction with her is just a bit more awkward. A bit more uncomfortable.
I hate it.