Page 3 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Lifting her head, Violet focused on the puffy white clouds overhead, drifting silent across the perfect blue sky. At least the weather was nice for Gram’s funeral. Crisp with a light breeze. It was chilly for so early in October, but the day proved to be a lovely send-off, nonetheless.
When the Bishop recited the last prayers, Violet turned into her sister’s embrace and wept, letting all the sorrow and hurt pour out. She’d received the call about Gram taking ill a week ago. Had it been a week? Time felt fuzzy even as an adult. But now, its movement was rampant and utterly beyond her control: much too fast in some moments and excruciatingly slow in others.
Eventually, she pulled her head from her sister’s embrace as they stood in the graveyard washed in overcast sunshine.
“I’ll head over to the community center first to greet everyone. You two take your time.” Jillian leaned in, giving Rose a quick peck on the lips before affectionately rubbing Violet’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Jill.” Rose sighed. She reached down, taking Violet’s hand as her partner walked away. “Are we alright?”
“More or less,” Violet shrugged. The crowd dispersed, moving across the dried lawn and toward the long row of parked cars on the gravel road. The view from the hill of the cemetery was majestic despite the dour setting—shadowed purple mountains framed the horizon, enclosing the charming country village she’d grown up in. Violet inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the cool earthiness of the air as if it would cleanse her.
“Who is that?” Rose asked.
Violet looked up, following her sister’s gaze. Past the row of cars and atop the gentle slope of another hill, a lanky man stood in a hooded coat. As if knowing he was being watched, he turned and descended the other side of the slope, disappearing from sight.
“One of the newer townies?” Rose guessed. “I thought everyone we grew up with was here.”
“Maybe…” Violet said, skeptical. “Let’s head to the hall and get this over with. I’m tired of being around all these people.”
* * *
Several hours later,Violet sank deep into the couch in her grandmother’s sitting room, a hot cup of spiced tea cradled in her palms. A profound weight sat heavily in her heart… But somehow, the house felt like a loving embrace. Gloria’s embrace. The vibrant smell of Roman chamomile and mint blooming on the covered back patio, the fire burning low just before her and a soft knitted blanket across her lap. Gram might be gone, but in many ways, she was still very much present.
“A couple years ago, she told me she was leaving the house to you.” Rose walked into the sitting room holding her own mug, taking a seat just beside Violet on the couch. “I think she didn’t want me to be upset. As if I would be.”
“You never liked it here,” Violet acknowledged, bringing her own cup to her lips. “Your daily, teenaged lamentation of ‘I miss my friends in LA’ made it very clear… I’m surprised it’s not tattooed somewhere on you—”
“I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this boring little town and start my real life, but Gram had to pushyouout of the nest. I couldn’t believe you almost turned down that job.”
A sudden clang in the kitchen made both Violet and Rose sit straighter and turn their heads.
“Sorry, I’m fine, I swear,” Jillian called out.
Violet looked at her sister, her voice low. “Isshe fine? She always seems scatterbrained to me.”
Rose shrugged. “It’s because her work is so crazy and demanding. There was some big buyer’s meeting she was prepping for, but it got cancelled at the last minute. She said it was with a famous company, too. Huge upset for her team.”
“What famous company?”
“Oh, I have no idea. She insists the details are confidential,andmind-numbing, so she spares me.”
“Hm,” Violet sighed, laying her head back against the couch. “I still don’t quite understand what she does. Whatever it is, is her company hiring? I hate my job, Rosie. My bosses are—Do you know what it’s like to have to keep track of everythingyou do, because at any given moment, you might be accused ofnotdoing something? I literally have a folder on my desktop called ‘Proof,’ where I screenshot every single task I complete—a spreadsheet of every action I take because I always need to cover myself. What kind of work environment is that?”
“A steady one. A profitable one.”
“It’s hostile.”
“You make excellent money—”
“Is money everything?” Violet asked. “Is it worth my sanity? That’s how they get you stuck in the hamster wheel. You make money so you can survive and buy things, and then you need more things so you have to keep making even more money. Gram wasn’t stuck in a hamster wheel. She lived by her own rules. And Ambrose Marcello says—”
“Oh no, here we go—”
“Hesays, ‘Chasing money yields money, but chasing life yields riches beyond measure.’ What am I chasing, Rosie? Being a drone and always covering my tracks.”
Rose turned and stared at her. Awkwardly.
“What?” Violet asked, frowning.
