Page 44 of Sort of Seeing Someone

“Yeah, and I pulled this out of storage,” says Nora. “I think it was an old Halloween costume from my sorority days. Do you want it? Lord knows Ted can’t see me in something like this or he’ll ask who died.”

There may be no hexes in the spell book, but it’s clear the women in this family are cursed with being afraid of what the men in their lives think of them.

13

Chapter Thirteen

The full moon is tonight, perfectly fitting for the party at The Brockmeier Hotel. But as such, in every free moment leading up to today, I’ve been prepping hundreds of orders that have rolled in since my appearance onWindy City Today.They’ll ship out tomorrow, after they’ve had a chance to absorb the lunar powers, of course.

With those orders marinating under the moon, I shift my focus to a different set of Moon Batch Apothecary goods: the fifty gift bags I made and brought for the attendees of The Brockmeier’s annual party.

“Moonie Miller, is that you?”

A baritone voice creeps up from behind me as I’m arranging the party favors in five rows of ten.

“I’m Roger Macnider,” the man announces in a way that suggests a very-commercialAnd I approve this messageshould be coming out of his mouth next.

“Oh! Mr. Macnider, it’s so nice to meet you in person,” I say with genuine excitement, careful to be sure my hands are full at the exact moment he expects to shake hands. After my sisters cornered me with all their intel, I’m in no rush to have any visions—especially accidental ones with middle-aged men who have a penchant for running hotels that are rumored to be haunted.

“The pleasure is all mine. How’s it going? Do you need anything?” he asks. His tuxedo catches me off guard. I wonder, for a moment, if I should have worn something more dressy than knock-off black Spanx leggings and an oversized chunky-knit sweater.

“Nope, I’m good,” I say. “Just getting the gift bags all set up. I went with a mini Moon Batch Candle for everyone.”

“Delightful! My wife will love that. Say, what all do you have in store for us tonight? Can you give me a little sneak peek?”

Mr. Macnider rubs his hands together like I’m his drug dealer about to tell him what’s up with the latest score.

“I’m going to be hosting a do-it-yourself smudge stick station. You’ll start by grabbing an abalone shell, then you’ll fill it with whatever type of sage you want. I brought white sage, palo santo, and yerba santa. Then you’ll add rose petals, lavender flowers, and eucalyptus for a little color and texture. Once you’re done, I’ll help wrap it all in twine and include a little ritual explanation card to take home so thateveryone willknow what to do with it.”

“Excellent. This isexactlywhat I had in mind,” he says.

I’m glad Mr. Macnider approves of the plan for his party. I know he had mentioned palm reading and candle making in his original email. But palm stuff is totally off the table and melted wax is messy and a burn risk. And at present, I don’t have the budget for business insurance or a lawyer.

“I also brought one more thing,” I say. “I know you didn’t ask for this, but I thought it might be cool to sell in the hotel gift shop?”

I hand him a green peridot beaded bracelet featuring three black lava rocks. He examines it as I continue my explanation of the piece.

“My crystal purveyor just got in a lava rock shipment. Once I found out it’s the only rock known to be formed from nothing but fire, I knew I had to do something with it. So, behold: my first bracelet.”

“This is incredible, Moonie. How much do you want for it?” he asks. “I’ll have my executive assistant put a tag on it right now.”

“Not sure. Maybe like, twenty-five dollars?”

“Twenty-five dollars? I think you’re grossly underestimating what our guests are prepared to pay for such a piece. How about…two hundred? The hotel will keep ten percent of the sale. Fair?”

I don’t think Mr.Macniderrealizes that an hour before I got here, those beads were scattered on my duvet, which currently has a buffalo wing stain on it, and the string holding it all together was from a bracelet-making kit that I found in the bottom of my nephew’s toy chest. I know I made it sound like this is the first piece of an exclusive line, but it was more like a meditative exercise to calm my nerves before tonight’s big event. Nonetheless, like everything else so far, I go with what the expert in the situation suggests.

“Two hundred it is,” I concur.

“Great. Well, I’ll let you keep at it. Guests should be arriving in about twenty minutes. And before the end of the night, my assistant will swing by with the tip we discussed. Please, holler if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thanks, I will,” I say, making note about just how nice Mr.Macnideris.

Before he departs, Mr.Macniderinches closer to me and fetches something from inside his breast pocket.

“Oh, and...here’s your room key, Ms. Miller. Check-out will be earlier than usual; 10am. We’ve got to turn the suite for Oprah. She and Gayle are doing a girls’ night with us tomorrow.”

He hands me a black card embossed with the word PRESIDENTIAL on it. I am careful to grab it from him so as not to accidentally brush palms in any way, shape, or form.

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