Page 24 of Brews and Banishments
She chewed on the inside of her mouth before letting out a sigh. They were almost home, and the neighborhood was quiet all around them. “Without knowing what the potion entails,” Tessa began, referring to the original potion that had fallen all over Daisy’s shoes, “We can’t be sure how it affects others. I mean, don’t get me wrong, what just happened for Maria is outstanding.”
“But?”
Tessa hesitated. “How can we explain Alan’s hair? Or Rebecca’s clothes? Or Old Lady Weatherford falling?” She shookher head, a faraway look falling over her. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”
Pressing her lips together, Daisy remained silent as they continued their regular path towards their homes. For a moment, she imagined what would happen if the potion turned out to have been a hex, or much worse, a curse. The future of Fields’ Herbals and her residency within Willowbrook could be at stake without knowing what was causing her wishes to come true. The moment she said the wrong thing, someone’s life could be at stake.
Daisy shook her head. There was no way it could get that far. Though the uncertainty surrounding it was incredibly hard to ignore.
“Steve’s home,” Tessa suddenly said.
Following her gaze, Daisy’s eyes landed on Tessa’s husband, Steve Hala. He was a rather ordinary man, not a warlock or practitioner of any form of magic. He merely loved his wife and his job all the same. His wardrobe was always full of luau button downs and brightly colored shorts, his eccentric clothes matching his wife’s bubbling personality. They were quite the pair and melded with each other easily.
Steve was standing across the street from his house, looking up at another man. They were in the middle of a conversation, and it was easy to assume that it wasn’t exactly a friendly one. As they drew nearer, Daisy narrowed her eyes on the other man, the realization hitting her almost at the same time as it reached Tessa.
“Isn’t that Richard Martin?” Daisy asked.
Tessa groaned. “That grumpy man can’t seem to keep his anger on his own property.”
“Last weekend he was yelling at the kids down the block from us,” Daisy said with a shake of her head. “All because theywere riding their bikes a little too close to his mailbox. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
Tessa sighed. “I wonder how much anger a person has to have if they feel the need to hate on everyone else’s business.”
Daisy normally preferred to keep her mouth shut when it came to gossiping about her neighbors, but there was something about Richard that made the entire town turn against him. First he was spending his free time throwing old cans and boxes at the stray cats living in the neighborhood. That act alone turned most of Willowbrook against him. Daisy herself fed most of the cats living in the woods around their houses, leaving out bowls of food and water for them to eat as they pleased.
One day, Richard made his way to her front door, banging his fist on the wood till she opened up to him. He went on and on about the chores cats brought, how they liked to have their kittens in his garage during the wintertime. Daisy was nice enough to give him the time of day, but never did she even consider halting in feeding the cats.
“The last time I spoke to him,” Tessa was saying, “I needed to bring a calming tonic to the house.”
“Whatever for?”
Tessa leaned over to lower her voice as they walked. “His wife, the poor woman, was screaming her head off,” she explained. “Apparently he had come home from work in a rage, and was even more upset when he arrived to his wife deep cleaning their fine china. Plates here, bowls there, expensive silverware everywhere.”
Daisy raised a brow. “Sounds harmless to me.”
“You’d think,” Tessa said. “But Richard, thelovingman he is, decided to throw a temper tantrum and began throwing the china everywhere. It made a big mess, I’ll tell you that.” She sighed and shook her head. “Richard and I went over when thekids found their way into our backyard. They refused to go back for hours, but it was settled in the end.”
“And she stayed with him?”
“Where else could she go?” Tessa asked. “Richard might be the biggest jerk with an ivory spoon up his you know what, but look at their house! The man is worth more money than that woman will ever get her hands on. I hate to say it, but you know it as much as I do.”
Daisy looked over their three story house and let out a low whistle. She couldn’t deny it.
As they drew nearer, the conversation between Steve and Richard grew clear. Richard was at the top of his ladder, a thick paintbrush in hand. Half the side of the house was already done in a nice color, the rest remaining what it normally was. A paint bucket sat on the edge of the roof, directly beside where he worked.
“Now,” Richard was in the middle of shouting, “don’t you hear that, Steve?”
Steve stood at the foot of the ladder, turning to glance over his shoulder at the front of his own house. A series of windchimes hung from their roof, directly above their covered porch. The windchimes were mainly handmade by Tessa herself, from shards of glass or pieces of drywood. As the wind rushed by the chimes made a pleasant symphony of sound, each one of them producing something different but somehow blending effortlessly together. Steve turned back towards Richard with his hands on his hips.
“Sure,” Steve called out to him. “Ihear music. What doyouhear?”
“Noise! Annoying, unneeded, uncoordinated noise! That,” Richard paused to shove an accusatory finger in the direction of their house, “is nowhere near music, Steve!”
Daisy glanced over at Tessa. She had a sour look on her face, her small hands clenching into tight fists. “Are you alright?”
Tessa pressed her lips together as they got closer. “What’s wrong with my windchimes?”
“Not a thing,” Daisy replied. “You know that. It’s just Richard. He can’t enjoy anything nice, it seems.”
