Page 21 of De-Witched

“Hmm.” The topic of balconies was still a sore one.

“And the food!”

Leah’s eyes drifted around her living room as her mom continued to gush. Her house was a mix of old and new: odd antiques, vintage decoration, bright color and a lot of art. Books sat higgledy-piggledy with fake plants—her ability to keep things alive extended only to animals—and dream catchers hung next to old medical equipment. She liked light, so lamps of all types decorated surfaces except for the large floor one that sat by the front door. The whole effect was colorful chaos and suited her down to the ground. Fortunately, Peggy didn’t oppose living like this either.

She’d bought the three-bedroom in Englewood about six years ago, investing a chunk of her trust fund before depositing almost all the rest into Toil and Trouble a year later. She didn’t regret either decision, especially as the house gave her enough room to keep her animals. All her babies were rescues from the shelter—Louie for losing an eye, if she had to guess, Rosie because she’d been too excitable, and Delilah who, at three years, was her most recent and had been surrendered because of “difficult behavior” (read: barking and digging, which Leah had got under control after six months of consistent training). Her cats had always lived together and sadly had been given to the shelter when their elderly owner had died.

It had broken her heart; they all did, which was why she was at the animal shelter every second she could spare. Sonny, the owner, had pretty much single-handedly run the place until she’d wandered in ten years ago. He was still in good shape for sixty-seven, but even he couldn’t manage the constant upkeep and get new adopters in. She now ran the website, the social media and the volunteer walks, taking peanuts for pay because she’d rather him give to the animals than her. Emma hadn’t been wrong; Leah’s family was comfortable enough that what remained of her trust helped pay for her admittedly hefty animal bill and the mortgage, and her income from the bar paid for the rest.

“All right, enough about me,” her mom wound down after making Leah envious over gelato. “I want to know what’s been happening since last week.”

Leah shifted the phone, laying a hand on Louie. “Well, your grandbabies are all healthy.”

“I miss them.”

“Them, not me?”

“You give me too much lip,” her mom teased.

“That’s genetics.”

A light laugh. “Can’t argue with that. Of course I miss you, sweetheart. I miss our movie nights.”

“Me, too.”

Ever since Leah had been fifteen, after The Divorce, they’d made movie night a tradition. Every month, three movies in a theme—same genre, same year, same actor, etc.—and a bucket of buttered popcorn. This had to be the longest time they’d gone without movie night.

Still, Leah couldn’t begrudge her mom. In fact, she marveled at her. From depressed divorcée to hopeful newlywed in thirteen short years. She could honestly say she was happy for her, even with the small worry of what would happen if this marriage turned out like the first. Those years had been rocky to say the least. At least George was a sweetheart, unlike Leah’s dad.

“We’ll do a marathon when you get back,” she told her mom, pushing the discomforting thought away. “Don’t worry about it. I know how much you wanted to travel.”

“You sure you can’t ditch work and come meet up with us someplace?”

The last thing she wanted was to crash her mom’s honeymoon. There were certain sights in this world she didn’t need to see.

“I’ve got too much going on here at the moment,” she sidestepped, smiling as Rosie sighed loudly from her basket.

“How did the new bartender work out?”

“Um...” She tried to think how to describe Gabriel without clueing her mom in. “He’s...adequate. I’m not sure he’ll last.” And if he hadn’t been hired under special circumstances, she doubted he’d have lasted as long as he had.

“That’s a shame. You can’t seem to keep someone in that position.”

“Maybe we’re cursed.”

“Well, you did name the bar Toil and Trouble.”

Leah chuckled.

“And the shelter?”

Her mood took a nosedive and she began to fidget with the loose material over her knee. “Sonny mentioned the bills again yesterday. We need to bring in more people, I think, cover more of the jobs. It’s just finding volunteers to give up the time.”

“You’ll do it, baby.” Her mom’s voice was warm, unwavering. “You never met a rock you couldn’t bulldoze your way through.”

“Is that your way of calling me hardheaded?”

“If it was?”

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