“The shopkeeper wasn’t a fan of that,” Prue shared with the room at large.
“I’m not sure it’s a thing, like Native Americans care if white people use smudge sticks to get rid of bad juju,” I explained. “But my motto is, better safe than sorry you not bastardizing something meaningful to some other culture’s spiritualism.”
Temperance’s low chuckle was amused, beautiful and sultry.
Chelsea emitted an annoyed noise.
“I didn’t know those were Native American,” Courtney put in.
“They are,” I confirmed.
Prue, getting in on my game, encouraged, “Show them your books, Vivi.”
I pulled all four of my big, how-to-be-a-white-witch books out of another bag, announcing, “First, I’m going to write my novel. Then, I’m going to get this whole love potion thing down and open a shop in Glastonbury.”
“I take it you enjoyed your day,” Battle purred.
“We had so much fun, Battie,” Chassie, hanging on his arm, whisper-assured.
He turned and kissed the side of her head.
Mostly an ass (probably).
But totally a good brother.
I put the books on the table, taking the top one with me, sitting back and flipping through it, saying, “That place is my new favorite place on the planet.” I turned to Temperance. “And yes, this decision might have something to do with me eating three of those Viennese fingers.”
“I’m stunned and insulted you’d assume I have poor taste in anything,” Temperance returned.
“Lesson learned,” I replied.
“May I get you ladies drinks?” Fitzgibbons was now there asking.
“Usual for me, Fitzy, thanks,” Prue said.
“Can I have a white wine spritzer?” Chassie whisper-requested, then she looked up at Battle, who she was now leaning on, also who had his arm around her (the box of donuts was on the mantle). “It was such a sunny, happy day. Like summer, almost.”
He smiled tenderly down at her.
Completely and totally a good brother.
“Miss Vivienne?” Fitzgibbons prompted.
I tried to dream up a good challenge for Fitzgibbons in the drinks arena, but with what was going on, I didn’t have it in me.
So I asked, “Gin fizz for me, please.”
“Right away,” he said and left the room (there was no drinks cabinet there, though, the speed in which he left probably had to do with him making an escape).
“As you see, we have unexpected company,” Temperance pointed out unnecessarily.
“I really did think Rally phoned you,” Courtney said.
“And I thought Court phoned you.” Rally pointedly aimed this at Chelsea.
Chelsea was studying her rounded, cream-polished fingernails.
“It’s terribly rude just to pitch up and—” Rally began.
