‘He can always catch up with us,’ said Finn with a shrug.
‘We were just about done, anyway,’ said Mom, checking my fingernails. She regarded my outfit thoughtfully. ‘You know what? Come with me. Finn, why don’t you go help your mom.’
As Finn cheerfully followed after Rosie, hand waving to dry off his nails, Mom led me to her giant bedroom. As always, it was perfectly tidy: the Kantha-stitched bedcovers were pulled tighter than one of her client meeting up-dos, and her clothes had been neatly put in the wardrobe. Onthe pink dresser, perfumes and makeup were arranged so carefully they seemed part of a spell, and a David Ogilvy book sat on her nightstand, bookmark in. The room evensmelledperfect.
Opening the dresser drawer, Mom pulled out a small jewellery box, picking through it until she found the pair of earrings she was after. A gleaming cloisonné set decorated with birds and flowers, with a small tear-shaped pearl at the top.
‘They go so well with the dress,’ I said, as she slipped them into my ears, mindful of my damp nails. ‘Thanks, Mom.’
She smiled softly as I spun to and fro in front of the dresser mirror, astonished at my own transformation. I felt like a witchy version of Anne Hathaway inThe Princess Diaries, which I’d watched about half a dozen times with Rosie.
‘Any time, Molly.’
It was odd – yet lovely – to see the warmth in her green eyes as she regarded me. It was a warmth usually reserved for Tiff, who was so like Mom in every way. I supposed it was easier to be magnanimous when you were looking at an accurate reflection of yourself rather than a distorted one, which was what I was.
‘Mom? Are you in here? We’re getting ready to—’
Tiff stopped short at the door. She was dressed in a simple blue-and-white-striped sundress and casual leather flip-flops, and of course looked a million dollars. Gold hoop earrings swung from her ears, and her half-moon necklace – the one whose other half I owned but rarely remembered to wear – glowed softly against her throat. She was in the process of donning a stunning half-moon crown decorated with a spray of gold stars. She was so striking that I almost wished I’d gone the moon goddess route instead of the witchy one.
‘You look great, Molly,’ she said, sounding a tad too surprised for my liking.
All right, so I wasn’t typically ballgown ready, but I wasn’t aslob. I did bathe on a daily basis, and I was familiar with ahairbrush. My boss had even managed to take a website-worthy headshot of me on the very first go.
‘Right back at you, Queen Tiff,’ I replied, unable to keep the touch of sharpness from my voice.
Mom had already turned her attention to my sister, tenderly smoothing the fabric of her skirt and fiddling with the stars on her crown. The all-too-rare moment I’d had with her was gone. Well, things couldn’t simply change on a dime, could they? There were laws of thermodynamics and all that.
‘Mom says we’re leaving in five,’ called Finn from the front of the house. ‘I’ll try to drag Noah out from the art studio. A quick smoke spell should do it.’
‘Finn,’ I heard Rosie warn. ‘Don’t even think about it. We’re not having a repeat of the fart charm event.’
‘Thank goddess I had daughters,’ whispered Mom. ‘Imagine dealing with fart charms. Your dad is bad enough.’
‘You’re definitely brave leaving him to handle the clients while you’re away,’ said Tiff.
Mom snorted. ‘Why do you think I’m surgically attached to my phone? It’s pre-emptive damage control. Also, we’re bidding against Unabashed for that tech client I mentioned, and I refuse to lose to Shauna.’
Tiff and I shared a look. Mom and Shauna had been adversaries since they’d started out as interns at the same ad agency decades ago. They’d both risen up through the ranks at record speed, but after Shauna had been poached by a competing agency, Mom had decided it was time thatsherule the world of advertizing. The rivalry between them after that had grown legendary, measured in magazine rankings and industry award statuettes. It was impressive, really, if a bit self-destructive.
‘Leaving in four!’ called Finn from the kitchen. There was a crackle of magic, and the clock in Mom’s room bonged, startling us all. Finn and magical restraint were unacquainted.
‘I think that’s our cue to leave,’ I said, adjusting my witch’s hat. I felt a fizz of anguish as my nails caught against the rough fabric: oh shit, had I messed up the polish?
There was a mild fabric smear on my left index finger, but other than that, Mom’s handiwork was still intact. I sent up a quick thanks to the whisperwinds, wondering who’d catch the whisper, and when. That was the supreme joy of the whisperwinds: you never knew quite how they’d travel. They moved better from some places than others, of course – the clifftop had the best range – but you could start a whisper from anywhere, if you put your mind to it. The whisperwinds always kicked up around Summerween, and especially during the festival. No one knew exactly why, but we assumed it was something to do with the magic that accompanied the in-between of the seasons. Not to mention the sheer volume of dreams and wishes that the town’s visitors sent up in the air after drinking more than their fair share of cider and sangria. The cove’s unique geography probably had something to do with it as well.
We headed back out to the living area, each calling dibs on certain picnic items by the front door.
‘Are we bringing the hand wagon?’ asked Mom, who never missed an opportunity to streamline a process.
‘How about I pack everything in the Mini,’ suggested Tiff. ‘I won’t be drinking, anyway. I want to get back to call Damien before he has work. The time zones are such a challenge this time of year.’
‘Oh, c’mon,’ said Finn, wrapping an arm around Tiff’s shoulder. ‘You’re going to let some long-distance boyfriend ruin Summerween? Just put him on a FaceTime call and prop him up on the picnic blanket. He’ll have a blast. Besides, no need to take the car. We can use the golf cart.’
‘Golf cart?’ This was news to me.
‘I bought it for Mom a few months back. It’s great forzipping around the local roads. And for chasing geese off the golf course. Not that I’d ever do that. We can all fit if we squeeze. And if Noah walks along behind us.’
‘The walk will do me good,’ said Noah, whose voice carried a complete lack of enthusiasm. He’d just been wrestled back into the house by Rosie, who’d apparently had to use all of her skills of persuasion (and possibly some magic) to make it happen.
