Page 34 of Bewitched & Bewildered
“Then I’ll be hearing from you.”
Asking Denise for advice would require swallowing my pride. That’s something I can’t do.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, brushing off the conversation. “Let me know ifyouneed help with anything.”
After closing,we return home to let the workers in. Opening the shop during kitchen renovations is a terrible idea; it means my schedule is busy. The bustle is preferable after spending too many days in the land of unemployment.
They’re working on our floorboards today, which leaves us huddled in our living room.
“I made five hundred bucks.” Laurel looks at us with wide eyes. “What am I supposed to do with all this?”
She sits on our living room floor, counting the bills on the coffee table. Maple rests beside me with her feet on an emerald-green ottoman.
“You can help pay for the floors,” I drawl.
Laurel pulls the money closer to herself. “I remembered something I need to buy.”
“Oh?”
I don’t expect Laurel to help. Mom didn’t leave us with much money, but we have enough to pay for the essentialrenovations. Laurel doesn’t have much income anyway. I won’t take what little she makes.
“She’s joking.” Maple dons a mirthful smile. “Spend it however you want to, honey. Rowan would tell you to save it.”
“I don’t want to do that either.” Laurel hums and stows the cash in her wallet.
I’ve been uncertain for the last week, but after spending the day with my sisters, I think we can do this. It won’t be easy. Maple stopped in after working another bread shift at the restaurant, and she’s exhausted. Rowan locks herself in her bedroom to hop on calls with her other clients—the real, paying clients. She’ll spend her evening working.
Other days won’t be like today. Laurel and I can run everything while our other sisters focus on their day jobs. Today showed me Laurel is ready for more responsibility. There were no customer complaints—in fact, she received rave reviews.
I’m proud of her, but none of us have the emotional capacity to say it out loud. The words catch in the back of my throat.
“Laur,” I say instead, “are you coming back with me tomorrow?”
“Sure. Do you think I can make another five hundred?”
“Probably not.” I snicker. “But if you work the register while I make potions, you’ll get your hourly pay.”
“Deal.”
A loud bang comes from the kitchen. I cringe.
“Everything all right in there?” Maple calls to the workers.
“All good!” someone calls back.
I shrug at my sisters. We have no experience; we’ll have to trust the professionals.
“I was thinking…” Maple says.
“Never a good sign,” I say.
Maple glares, but there’s no malice behind it. “I want to make baked goods for the shop.”
I lift my brows. “Really?”
She nods. “You know—charmed sweets for prosperity or to attract new love. Things like that.”
The sort of thing only a kitchen witch can make. Selling them at the shop is a sweet idea.
