Page 9 of Witchful Thinking

1, 4, 3, 7, 10, 23

Chapter Four

How are you?” Ursula held the half-empty pitcher over her margarita glass. Lucy leaned back against the lumpy couch for a silent moment. Her mind replayed the evening with Alex. She had watched him under the light of the Ferris wheel, illuminated by the neon like an electric god. When she hugged him, a double current of want and warmth went through her and electrified parts of her that were once uncharged. She still had it bad for him and missed out on funnel cake. Silly witch.

She sat up and sighed. “There are several possible answers to that question.”

“Let’s keep drinking until we have a good answer.” Ursula poured the remaining dregs of the drink mix into Lucy’s glass on the coffee table.

Dinner had been cleaned up a while ago, and now the four witches were currently sipping their mixed drinks in their living room. Sirena was propped up against the hand-me-down fainting couch. Callie relaxed on the upholstered wood chair that was a flea market find. Lucy switched her focus between her drink and phone. She hadn’t shared her sudden reunion with Alex. Her sisters would’ve grilled her for every single detail and demanded that she act on this decade-long obsession. Eh. “Obsession” was a bit dramatic. It was more like a “look him up on social media and analyze his posts with the focus of a codebreaker trying to uncover a spy ring” interest in Alex. If Callie and Sirena knew, they’d drag the drink from her hand and cast a spell to bring that merman right to her bedroom. Lucy shook her head. No way. If she and Alex were meant to be together, then it would’ve happened already.

“Does anyone want thirds?” Ursula asked.

Lucy waved her off. “I’m good.”

“What did you put in this drink?” Sirena stared at her glass suspiciously. “I feel drunker than usual.”

“Do you care?” Callie responded.

“I just want to know how hungover I’m going to be at brunch,” Sirena said. “I don’t want to burn anybody’s eggs. I know a sous-chef who got fired because his bacon was too crispy.”

“Stop. You’re making me hungry.” Callie flounced out of the room. “I’m getting snacks.”

“Don’t mess up my kitchen,” Sirena called out. She worked as a chef at Ad Astra, the fanciest restaurant in town, a job that appealed to her potion making and brewing talents. There wasn’t a day that Sirena didn’t smell of some sprig of rosemary or lavender, a byproduct of her cooking experiments. She took a long sip of her drink but didn’t move.

Lucy looked at Ursula. “Who’s watching the shop tonight?”

“I hired Ernestine to do it,” Ursula said. “She needs practice reading crystal balls for the weekly special. Two readings for the price of one.”

Ernestine was their coven sister and a family friend. She was brand-new to the craft but eager to learn how to tap into her supernatural abilities. Ursula managed the local psychic and mystic shop Light as a Feather, which was owned by her mom, Aunt Niesha.

“You might need her to cover for me tomorrow, too. I’m tipsy.” Lucy chuckled.

“You do know that you don’t work at the shop. How drunk are you?” Sirena asked slowly.

“I’m drunk enough to tell this joke. Why is history like a fruitcake?”

“Why?” Ursula asked.

“It’s full of dates!” Lucy cackled with glee.

Ursula groaned, amused.

Sirena reached for Lucy’s glass. “That’s it! I’m cutting you off.”

“No, she’ll get funnier if she drinks more. Have some more.” Ursula waved Sirena away from Lucy’s glass. Lucy spied that Ursula’s drink was oddly empty. Hmm. Something was rotten in the Garden State. As with every monthly gathering, Ursula had made her infamous Bathwater Brew, a drink handed down from their great-auntie Lulu. It was a family favorite, a brew of rum, pineapple, and other deliciousness. As Lucy picked up the glass in her hands, the turquoise mixture shone. She drank, her eyes glancing around the living room at the collection of various-size bells, half-melted candles, and tattered leather-bound books. Their fluffy gray Chartreux cat, Shadow, flicked his tail, surveying the night with a passive interest. A handmade statue of Oshun, draped in a regal gown, stood with her arms outstretched in the air. The photos of their ancestors, hanging over the mantel, watched over them.

Lucy bowed her head and lifted her glass to those who had gone before her. Rest easy. No matter what, Caraways paid respect and honor to their ancestors in everything they did.

Honor the past. Protect your own. Use your power. This was the Caraway way.

Some of her relatives used their powers to enrich themselves and draw success into their lives. Other relatives worked their magic in secret and shadows, using their gifts only in the right time and situation. She sipped her drink again. The liquid flowed down her throat and hit her bloodstream, making everything from her hair to her toes loose and easy. The sparkle from Ursula’s engagement ring caught her attention, causing waves of melancholy through her. Everyone—classmates, friends, random people at the grocery store—was moving on, getting married and finding out where they belonged. With her free hand, Lucy clicked open the class notes email again. She was right where she had been at eighteen—back in the Grove.

Ursula waved her bejeweled hand over Lucy’s face. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t get all sentimental. We’re here to chill out, not to be all miserable.”

Ursula, with her black-framed glasses and deep-set eyes, had her hair up in a fluffy pineapple style. She got up, teetering slightly to the left, her face flushed.

“We’re not here to think, just drink. Si—help me distract Lucy.”

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