Page 20 of Summer Solstice

After all the troubles of the past few days, and the difficult customers, it was nice to be back doing what I liked best. It made me feel like I was finally back on solid ground again.

The young woman turned to go, but then paused, and frowned.

“Is it supposed to feel like that?” she asked me, scratching at the thin skin of her wrists.

Worry sparked, and I reached for her hands. “No, it’s not supposed to itch at all.”

I caught a glance of the young woman’s skin, and sucked in a horrified breath. Her wrists were already turning red and blotchy, hives bubbling up under my gaze.

“Oh, my goodness!” I grabbed a couple wipes, and helped her hastily clean the oil off. “I’m so sorry, that’s never happened before.”

Watching the girl blink back tears as the redness spread up her forearm made my insides twist. Even though I’d removed the oil as best I could, the redness was still fully present and accounted for and the little lighter bumps hadn’t yet gone away.

“I-I think I’d better go get this looked at.”

“I’m really very sorry. Here.” I held out her money back to her, feeling like I might burst into tears at any second. She graciously accepted the refund, and hurried out of the shop, leaving the unstopped bottle on the counter.

What on earth had happened? I’d never had a potion do that before, not to me, and certainly not to a client. I lifted up thePink Passionbottle, eyeing it like that might give me some clue as to where I’d gone wrong. I gave the bottle a light sniff, and paused. Something was just slightly off, the smell sweeter than it should have been. Not cloying, but just a hair too much.

My stomach sank, and I hurried into the backroom where I kept my racks of essential oils. I skimmed my fingers over each of them in turn until I found the grapeseed oil bottle I’d used just the night before. Tugging the stopper out, I gave it a cursory smell, my eyes drifting closed.

My heart tightened painfully, and I raked my free hand back through my hair. Because my new supply company had mislabeled at least one bottle. What they’d sent me, claiming it was grapeseed, was in fact Sweet Almond.

I sagged back against the wall, my head in my hands. That poor customer. I’d told her there were no nut oils in her purchase. There shouldn’t have been. But I hadn’t thought to check that the bottles were properly labeled, and I hadn’t noticed the difference until it was already too late.

What if she got more than hives? What if she got an even worse allergic reaction and ended up in the emergency room? And her date—she was so excited for it. Would she have to show up all blotchy and covered in hives, or cancel altogether?

I didn’t understand what was happening. Everything was going so wrong in my life lately. Even my potion making, the one thing I knew I was good at, the one thing I was actually proud of, and I couldn’t even do that right anymore.

I felt defeated. Flattened. How had Wanda put it? Like a soda with all the bubbles gone.

I couldn’t let it happen again. My potions were supposed to help people, make their lives better. Not cause them physical injury. I didn’t even make potions that could be used as weapons for sale for that very reason.

I hoped that poor girl was alright. I hoped she’d come back and I could make it up to her, somehow.

Just as I was preparing to pull every single bottle back off the shelf to test each one and make sure all of them were labeled correctly, my phone chimed an alarm.

My dinner with Andre. I’d planned to close a bit early so I could go home and get ready, but I wasn’t sure if I should even go now. With how everything was turning out, I’d probably just make a mess of it.

Well, at least if the store was closed, no one could get hurt by an errant potion.

Was I even going to be able to use the ones I’d already made from the new supplies?

No. I scrubbed my hands over my face. This was terrible. Worse than terrible.

So bad, in fact, that I felt like losing it right there—just collapsing onto the ground in a great heap of tears. But, no, I couldn’t do that. I had to hold it together.

And what about Andre?I asked myself.

I’d go out with Andre. It didn’t seem fair to cancel on him last minute when we’d been kind of dancing around things for so long. I’d go, and hopefully nothing bad would happen that might further hint to the crap that my luck had become lately.

The door felt oddly heavy when I closed it behind me to lock up.

***

That evening, I looked over the clothes I’d laid out on my bed, and realized I’d never felt less like going out. I still couldn’t believe I’d messed up a potion badly enough to actually injure a customer. All the potions I’d just made would have to be remade. I couldn’t trust them. So, not only was I running out of stock for the store, but I hadn’t even started on special orders or the potions for the festival. I’d also wasted money on ingredients that I couldn’t trust.

The more I thought about it, the more it really felt like I should just stay in, try to track down another supplier who could send me high quality oils that were properly labeled, so I could get started on rebuilding my stock. Or maybe I should have tried my luck again with the company who had sent me the wrong ones? No doubt, they’d give me a refund...

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