Page 7 of Brews and Banishments
“They never have the cherry pie at Ronald’s,” Daisy said, her voice quiet.
Tessa grinned. “I know! I had to grab it when I realized.”
“But two slices? Let me at least pay you back, Tess!”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t bother. They slipped them in for free. I didn’t notice till I got back.”
Daisy glanced back down at the box. She couldn’t resist. She slipped a finger through the bright red syrup and popped it in her mouth. The bright taste mixed with a strong tartness brought a warmth to her chest. It was everything she loved all at once: summer and cherries. But as the taste sunk into her stomach, Daisy couldn’t ignore the swirling pit of nerves that rested deep within her. It was lucky for Tessa to have been at Ronald’srightwhen they happened to have cherry pies. But, eventually, luck would always run out.
Daisy closed the lid of the box, suddenly losing her appetite.
“You wouldn’t believe what I heard when I was in line,” Tessa was saying as she drove her fork through her own slice of pie. “Old Lady Witherford was a few spots ahead of me.”
Daisy sighed. The older woman had lived beside Daisy for years, and she was known as the town’s gossip. She’d lived in Willowbrook all her life, and happened to know every single family who were born and raised alongside her. Despite her climbing in age, Old Lady Witherford never once dared to stay within the confines of her home, and was always seen out and about. Daisy, as an aging woman herself, found comfort in seeing the old lady so much in the town, despite the fact that she didn’t much like talking to her.
Gossiping, her mother used to say, brought wrinkles faster than age ever did.
“Don’t you think it’s weird for the town to call her that?”
“Not when she callsherselfthat.”
“Touche,” Daisy muttered. “Go on. What was she gossiping about this time?”
Tessa leaned forward eagerly. “You’ve seen that garish spray paint on those buildings, right?”
“The ones by Louis Street?”
Tessa nodded.
“Well, sure,” Daisy replied.
“Old Lady Witherford’s blaming it on the Bronkin twins.”
Daisy laughed. “Neither one of them are tall enough to spray paint the sides of those buildings. Besides, I know their parents. They wouldn’t -”
“Well, she’s been telling the whole town, and they sure believe her.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised by this point. The woman’s practically the town’s local news station.”
Tessa laughed. “That isn’t even the extent of it, Daisy,” she continued. “You remember Susan Comer, don’t you?”
Daisy frowned. Susan Comer lived a few blocks away from her and had a family of six. The kids normally rode their bikes up and down the street, and Daisy tended to keep a close eye on them when she was home. Once, when the sun was setting, the youngest of the kids raced their bikes down the street and took a tumble in front of her driveway. There were broken bones and a few scratches. Daisy, for reasons she kept under lock and key, couldn’t stand the sound of crying children.
It reminded her of a time she seldom forgot, a time she strived to wipe her memory clean of whenever she had the chance. And so, Daisy shot out of her house with a bag full of tonics, remedying the wounds with a simple potion or two.
“What about Susan?” Daisy asked once she pulled herself out of her reverie.
Tessa leaned in. “Old Lady Witherford said she saw Susan sneaking the local handyman in through her backdoor.”
“Oh,” Daisy waved a hand in the air, “that’s ridiculous!”
“Why? Her husband travels, Daisy!”
She rolled her eyes. “So does yours!”
“Well, sure, butI’mnot the one claiming to need my table legs fixed every other day!”
Daisy rose from her seat, unable to stop herself from laughing. “That woman’s gossip is just that: gossip. Don’t believe a word of it.”
