I decided to finish my breakfast in peace and while the pancakes were still warm, before filling his bowl. That done, another thought popped up in my mind. “Why did you expect me to figure out you’d decided to surprise me?”
“Because of the date.”
Puzzled, I checked the calendar. It wasn’t my birthday, nor Cosmo’s gotcha day (in either of the two incarnations he’d lived through with Aunt Violet), and it also wasn’t a holiday. “I give up.”
“It’s been six months since your ascendance into witchdom, and also, yesterday you completed all your basic spellwork.”
Six months! It seemed a lot longer, in retrospect. I’d lost my aunt, recovered from a divorce, found out about my new powers (although mastering – or was it mistressing them – was a different matter), learned to run the lending library, accepted to be bossed around by a talking cat, and solved several murder cases together with him and my girlfriends, while keeping my daughter oblivious of my new state of being, for her own sake. Not bad for an almost 49-year-old woman starting over.
“I did all that,” I marveled.
“As expected.”
My bubble burst, until he continued. “What you should really be proud of is that you did all that while rediscovering the magic you were born with.” He tapped on the can with chicken. “Now that’s worth celebrating. And once we all have a full belly, you may make a wish. I can’t promise I can help you fulfil it, but I’ll consider it carefully, so choose wisely.”
Excitement rippled through me. To be (or at least become) a good witch, there were strict boundaries, according to Cosmo. I couldn’t personally benefit in a material sense, or shower people of my choosing with riches, and he’d even scolded me for causing a clump of chestnutsto hit the head of someone who’d needled me, in my early training days. Saving myself from injuries or protecting others was permissible.
I’d reluctantly come to accept the wisdom of this, because a witch allowed to do whatever she wanted was a scary thought, even if we were talking about such a nice, mild-mannered person like me. This made the idea of having one wish granted exhilarating.
Should I ask him for a self-cleaning house just for once? The yard needed tidying too, a task that loomed large on my to-do list.
My aunt had left me enough money to get by. That allowed me to reinvest the subscription fees for the lending library and purchase new books, plus toys, and craft materials for the children’s corner. Hiring a gardener would take a big chunk out of that pot.
The yard also supplied me with many of the basic ingredients for the herbal teas that I concocted from my aunt’s recipes. Some included a touch of magic to ease pain, relieve stress, or help with menopause symptoms. The same went for the cookies I baked on a regular basis.
I still pondered my options when we entered the former garage. I’d recently transformed it into a workshop. In my pre-witch days, I’d restored furniture and assisted my husband with home-stagings in our joint business (using the magic Cosmo had alluded at. Back then, in my ignorance, I simply took it for a skill). That came to an end when I caught him in the stock room taking stock of the assets his personal assistant, now fiancée, offered. Only lately had I begun to restore a Chesterfield sofa and a late 19thcentury desk for my own pleasure again.
“You’re frowning,” Cosmo said. He jumped onto the sofa and washed his paws. “Are you thinking about your ex again? He hasn’t messaged you again?”
“No, and in case you’re wondering, I don’t regret at all having swappedhim for you.”
“Of course not. I’m an upgrade.”
“You are the ultimate upgrade.” I picked up my jeweler’s loupe and inspected the stitchwork at the back of the sofa. It had called out to me at Bert’s Antiques' Barn, where I’d first fallen in love with the art of restoration when I was young and discovered a knack for matching objects with people or places. Once finished, this sofa would transform the reading nook in the library.
Underneath it, I spotted dust and brown animal hair. I grabbed my old-fashioned broom, crouched, and pushed it underneath the sofa. A squeaking mouse ran out. Cosmo purred.
“Don’t pounce,” I said.
He continued purring. The mouse stood still. It stopped trembling, and then, to my utter amazement, it flitted to the door, and I let it out.
“She was lost,” Cosmo said.
“You told the mouse how to get out?”
“Of course. Unless you want a family of mice living in your workshop? She’s pregnant, and they tend to have a large litter.” He gazed at me. “You know I don’t hunt innocent creatures.”
“Which I appreciate.”
I still held the broomstick. My skin prickled. “You said I’ve mastered the basic spells. That means I’m ready for advanced witchcraft, right?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it advanced. Progressing is more like it.”
“Can I fly on this broomstick? Just this once, as my wish?”
He covered his eye with his paw. “I blame pop culture for that ridiculous idea.”
“But can I?” I had used levitation spells before, to move light objects. Technically, if I could cause a ball to float in the air, with Cosmo’s assistance I should be able to do the same with a broomstick. And I’d slowed my fall earlier without breaking a sweat.
