Page 7 of Howls & Harvest

“Morning, Bella.” Suzette says to the barista, a friendly-looking woman with leaf-red locks. “I like this month’s hair color.”

“Thanks, Suz—and this must be Candice,” she says with a warm smile. “What can I get you ladies?”

“I’ll have my usual,” says Suzette. “Candice, want to try the Metamorphosis Mocha? It’s our specialty.”

I hesitate. “What does it do?”

Bella grins. “Nothing too crazy. Just gives you rabbit ears for an hour or two.”

“Okay,” I say, throwing caution to the wind. “I’ll try it.”

As we wait for our drinks, I watch in amazement as cups float through the air, gently descending to waiting customers. Our drinks arrive, and I take a cautious sip of my mocha. It’s delicious, with hints of chocolate and cinnamon, and a flavor I can’t quite place.

“Oh, wow,” I say, feeling a tingling sensation spread through my body. I catch my reflection in a nearby mirror and gasp. My usual blonde hair has sprouted bunny ears sticking up out of my thick French braid.

Suzette laughs at my expression. “Looks good on you, sis.” She’s sporting her own pair of bunny ears.

We grab some pastries to go. “Don’t forget, we’ll have a new drink starting tomorrow, for Thanksgiving,” says Bella on our way out.

Food in hand, we head back out into the town square. While we walk, Suzette tells me more about Evershift Haven’s history and the various magical beings who call it home.

“Over there is ‘Mystical Motors,’” she says, pointing to a garage where tools seem to be moving on their own. “Throk owns it.”

We pass by a park, where the grass seems to be changing colors. “That’s Mystic Meadows. The grass responds to the mood of the people in the park.”

Continuing our tour, we approach a quaint boutique with a sign that reads “The Whimsical Wardrobe.” “This is Madame Threads’ place,” she says. “She’s an incredible seamstress. Her clothes often have magical properties.”

We enter the shop accompanied by the sound of a bell tinkling above the door. Racks of colorful clothing line the walls, and I swear I see a scarf slither across a shelf like a snake.

“Suzette, darling.” A tall, elegant woman with silver hair glides toward us. “And who is this lovely creature?”

“Madame Threads, this is my sister, Candice,” Suzette introduces us. “She’s visiting Evershift Haven for the first time.”

“Charmed, my dear,” says Madame Threads, taking my hand. “Welcome to ‘The Whimsical Wardrobe.’ Feel free to browse. The mirrors will show you how you’ll look in the future wearing any outfit you try on.”

As I marvel at this information, the shop door bursts open. A frazzled-looking pale-green woman with wild, silver-streaked purple hair stumbles in.

“Grizelda.” Madame Threads exclaims. “Are you all right?”

The woman looks green...um, greener...around the metaphorical gills. “Oh, Threads, it’s awful. The morning sickness is back with a vengeance, and my magic is going haywire. I can’t keep anything down, and every time I sneeze, something in the house turns into a pumpkin.”

Suzette rushes to Grizelda’s side, helping her to a nearby chair. “Grizelda, what about the Thanksgiving preparations? Weren’t you supposed to start organizing today?”

The green woman groans, putting a hand to her forehead. “I know, but in this condition, I can barely manage to dress myself, let alone plan a town-wide celebration. Oh, what are we going to do?”

I watch this exchange with sympathy for the woman and the town. As an event planner, I could offer at least some assistance, but surely, they wouldn’t want an outsider taking over such an important event, would they?

“Candice,” says Suzette as she turns in my direction, and her voice is filled with enthusiasm, “You’re an event planner. This is perfect.”

I blink, caught off-guard. “What’s perfect?”

She grins, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You can help organize the Thanksgiving feast. You’re the only unattached party available, and your skills are exactly what we need.”

My stomach drops. “I... I don’t know, Suzette. I’m not even from here. I don’t know anything about magical festivals or—”

“Nonsense,” interrupts Grizelda, brightening despite her apparent discomfort. “A fresh perspective is exactly what we need, and with your experience in event planning, you’ll be a natural.”

I glance around the shop, taking in the eager faces of Madame Threads, Grizelda, and my sister. A part of me wants to refuse, to retreat to the safety of the familiar, but another part, a part I thought I’d lost in the grind of corporate events, stirs with excitement at the challenge.

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