would take off work and spend hours gardening. An entire, precious day with no company, and no demands but her flowers.
That was the beauty and privilege of owning her own business.
The occasional privilege helped balance out the weight of responsibility. Of business, and of magic.
She had a dozen things to do in the store that day. It didn’t matter that she’d slept poorly, tossed in her dreams, or that her mood was so low she’d wanted nothing so much as to bury herself under the blankets. The fact that she’dconsidered it, even briefly, had been sufficiently appalling to get her up and out.
Then she’d forgotten, and she never forgot anything, that Nell and Ripley were coming to the house. At least they were a distraction, something to keep her mind off her memories and dreams, unwelcome intruders into the disciplined order of her life.
He’d snuck into her dreams. The bastard.
“Would you rather do this another time? Mia?”
“What?” Frowning, she looked up. Blinked. By the goddess, she wasn’t even paying attention to her distraction. “No, no. Sorry. The rain’s making me edgy.”
“Right.” Ripley slouched in her chair, hooked a leg over its arm. There was a bowl of popcorn in her lap, and she popped pieces in her mouth quickly, carelessly. “Like it’s a weather pattern that got under your skin.”
Saying nothing, Mia walked to the sofa, curled up. Tucking her bare feet under the spread of her skirt, she flicked a finger at the stone fireplace across the room. The logs burst into snapping, sizzling flame.
“There, that’s better.” She plumped one of her velvet pillows as if she had no concern other than her own comfort. “Now, Nell, what did you want to talk to me about before we discuss our plans for the solstice?”
“Get her.” Ripley gestured with her wineglass, and dumped a neat fall of popcorn in her mouth with her free hand. “Sounds like the chairwoman for some ladies social club.”
“Not so far off. Club, coven. But anytime you want to take charge, Deputy Fife—”
“Okay.” Nell held up a hand for peace. It seemed she was always calling for peace when Mia and Ripley spent more than ten minutes together. There were times when she thought it would be simpler to just knock their heads together. “Why don’t we move beyond the insult portion ofour program? I wanted to say that I thought the first meeting of the cooking club went well.”
Mia steadied her temper. Nodded. She leaned over, contemplated the glossy purple grapes she’d arranged on a pale green dish. Selected one. “It did. It was a terrific idea, Nell. I think we’ll find it brings business into the store, and the café. We sold a dozen cookbooks that night, and a dozen more since.”
“I was thinking after we give it a couple of months to see if interest holds, we might want to plan a combination event with the book club. Maybe around Christmas. I know that’s a long way off, but—”
“But it never hurts to plan,” Mia finished and, nipping into a second grape, leveled a smirk in Ripley’s direction. “There are a number of novels that have food playing a major role, and some even have recipes. We might suggest one for the book club, then the cooking club could prepare the dishes. Everybody has fun.”
“And you sell books,” Ripley pointed out.
“Which, oddly enough, is the primary function of Café Book. Now—”
“There’s something else.”
Mia paused, lifted an eyebrow at Nell. “All right.”
Nervous, Nell pressed her lips together. “I know selling books is the primary function, but, well, I had this idea a while ago. I’ve been playing with it in my head, trying to see if it would work, or be worthwhile. You may think it’s out of line, but—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Nell.” Out of patience, Ripley shifted in her chair and set the bowl of popcorn aside. “She thinks you should expand the café.”
“Ripley! Would you just let me tell it my way?”
“I
That was the beauty and privilege of owning her own business.
The occasional privilege helped balance out the weight of responsibility. Of business, and of magic.
She had a dozen things to do in the store that day. It didn’t matter that she’d slept poorly, tossed in her dreams, or that her mood was so low she’d wanted nothing so much as to bury herself under the blankets. The fact that she’dconsidered it, even briefly, had been sufficiently appalling to get her up and out.
Then she’d forgotten, and she never forgot anything, that Nell and Ripley were coming to the house. At least they were a distraction, something to keep her mind off her memories and dreams, unwelcome intruders into the disciplined order of her life.
He’d snuck into her dreams. The bastard.
“Would you rather do this another time? Mia?”
“What?” Frowning, she looked up. Blinked. By the goddess, she wasn’t even paying attention to her distraction. “No, no. Sorry. The rain’s making me edgy.”
“Right.” Ripley slouched in her chair, hooked a leg over its arm. There was a bowl of popcorn in her lap, and she popped pieces in her mouth quickly, carelessly. “Like it’s a weather pattern that got under your skin.”
Saying nothing, Mia walked to the sofa, curled up. Tucking her bare feet under the spread of her skirt, she flicked a finger at the stone fireplace across the room. The logs burst into snapping, sizzling flame.
“There, that’s better.” She plumped one of her velvet pillows as if she had no concern other than her own comfort. “Now, Nell, what did you want to talk to me about before we discuss our plans for the solstice?”
“Get her.” Ripley gestured with her wineglass, and dumped a neat fall of popcorn in her mouth with her free hand. “Sounds like the chairwoman for some ladies social club.”
“Not so far off. Club, coven. But anytime you want to take charge, Deputy Fife—”
“Okay.” Nell held up a hand for peace. It seemed she was always calling for peace when Mia and Ripley spent more than ten minutes together. There were times when she thought it would be simpler to just knock their heads together. “Why don’t we move beyond the insult portion ofour program? I wanted to say that I thought the first meeting of the cooking club went well.”
Mia steadied her temper. Nodded. She leaned over, contemplated the glossy purple grapes she’d arranged on a pale green dish. Selected one. “It did. It was a terrific idea, Nell. I think we’ll find it brings business into the store, and the café. We sold a dozen cookbooks that night, and a dozen more since.”
“I was thinking after we give it a couple of months to see if interest holds, we might want to plan a combination event with the book club. Maybe around Christmas. I know that’s a long way off, but—”
“But it never hurts to plan,” Mia finished and, nipping into a second grape, leveled a smirk in Ripley’s direction. “There are a number of novels that have food playing a major role, and some even have recipes. We might suggest one for the book club, then the cooking club could prepare the dishes. Everybody has fun.”
“And you sell books,” Ripley pointed out.
“Which, oddly enough, is the primary function of Café Book. Now—”
“There’s something else.”
Mia paused, lifted an eyebrow at Nell. “All right.”
Nervous, Nell pressed her lips together. “I know selling books is the primary function, but, well, I had this idea a while ago. I’ve been playing with it in my head, trying to see if it would work, or be worthwhile. You may think it’s out of line, but—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Nell.” Out of patience, Ripley shifted in her chair and set the bowl of popcorn aside. “She thinks you should expand the café.”
“Ripley! Would you just let me tell it my way?”
“I
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