Page 61 of Mistletoe & Magic
A couple from the school board waves on their way out. Mr. Gardner from the hardware store stops to tell Donna he saved her space for book night. Rowan slides a small glass bottle onto our table with handwritten tags. Joy, she has written. For courage and for opening. She does not explain. She does not need to. Rowan just mixes things and knows things.
I tuck the bottle into the tote between the galleys. The weight changes. It feels like a future I can hold in my hands.
“Tell me what you love to read,” Donna says, pencil ready. “Tropes, witches, cowboys, fake dating, secret identities. Give me your heart, and I will give you six titles to match.”
I laugh and do as I am told. I tell her about books that felt like doorways when I was fourteen. I tell her about a college library where I hid in the romance aisle because every spine looked like a promise. Willa adds a recommendation so fast she has to run and grab the last copy off the shelf before someone else does. My mom adds in a couple of her favorites, then orders more bacon for the table.
When Donna talks about her new book, she lights up in a way that makes everyone at the next table lean closer. The heroine runs a flower cart by the pier, and the hero is a widower who keeps every love letter his wife ever wrote, then learns how to write new ones to a future he never thought he could have. I am done for by the time she hits the midpoint.
“Put me on the pre-order list,” I say. “Take all my money. I need it.”
“You are on the dedication page,” she says, deadpan, then breaks into a grin at my face. “Kidding. But you can be in the next acknowledgments if you promise to bring me donuts the morning after launch.”
“Deal,” I say, and we shake like we are closing a real estate contract.
After a while, the plates look like stories. Smears of jam, coffee rings, crumbs that glitter with sugar. The morning has shifted to later. People come and go. Everyone says hello to us at the corner table. Every hello holds a little vote of confidence. It is simple, and it is beautiful.
Donna buys one cinnamon roll to go for Pete, then tucks a small notebook into the tote on top of the galleys. “For your thoughts,” she says. “On books or on life. They are the same thing most days.”
“Thank you,” I say, and her love hits me in the chest.
We stand at the same time. Before I can reach for my coat, Donna pulls me into a hug that feels like coming home. My mom wraps an arm around both of us and kisses my cheek. We all say our goodbyes, and I head out with a full heart. My cup is full.
Outside, the harbor wind lifts my scarf, and the sun finds a seam in the clouds. The tote is heavy. I hold it close and head toward the truck parked up the street. I can see the tree farm in my mind as I walk, the way the rows look like music and the way Remy smiles when he sees me. I think about tonight, and the bed, and a book waiting on the nightstand. I think about how it will feel to read for an hour while Remy catches up on paperwork at the kitchen counter and Junie sneak-watches an animated show with her headphones on, both of us glancing up at each other to share the good parts.
Romanceisthe best, Donna said. If we don’t believe in it, what are we even doing?
I tuck the tote higher on my shoulder and believe it with my whole life.
Chapter 18
Remy
Junie bounces on the couch, clutching her overnight bag like it’s a golden ticket. Lola is planted at her feet, tail thumping against the floor every time Junie moves to look out the window to watch for Lilith. She’s nervous about whether she gets to go with her favorite tiny person or not. It’s become clear to everyone that Junie is Lola’s chosen person, and I’m okay with it. More than okay with it. I love that they have each other.
“Lilith said we’re making moon water tonight!” Junie crows. “And dream catchers! With real gem beads!”
I smile even though my chest feels tight. I love that Junie has so many people here that love and support her. “Sounds like you’re gonna have the best night ever, bug.”
“She said we can mix potions, too.” Junie’s voice drops to a whisper, conspiratorial. “Real witch potions.”
I glance at Ivy, who’s leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching the whole thing with that soft smile she tries to hide. The sight of her standing there, hair loose, wearing one of those slouchy sweaters that make me think of fireplaces and kissing her, almost makes melose my mind.
Almost. I’m focused because I’ve got something planned. And I’m nervous if she’s going to love it or not.
“You about ready?” I ask Ivy.
Her brow arches. “Ready for what?”
I swallow, trying to keep my voice casual. “Be ready to go at six. Both of you,” I nod at Junie. “Lilith’s coming for you at six. Then we have plans after.”
“What about Lola?” Ivy asks.
“We’ll find out if she likes cats,” I say, crouching to scratch Lola’s ears. “She goes everywhere Junie goes, right? Lilith said she’d love to have her granddog over for a sleepover, too.”
Junie nods solemnly, as if this is a sacred truth. “She loves you, Ivy, but you’re second place now. Sorry.”
Ivy laughs, low and warm, and the sound wraps around me and makes my chest tight in a good way. “That’s okay, bug.”
