Page 149 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Talula thought about the last few weeks since Samhain. She’d become more honest about who she was and what she wanted with the people she cared about.

She thought about her mother. The long talks they’d had about what Talula wanted for herself. Sara had listened, heart open and willing beyond Talula’s comprehending. Now Sara showed her love and support in small, important ways—making sure their kitchen was clear of elixirs and potions so Talula could practice new recipes, finding food documentaries they could watch together, asking to learn how to make Talula’s famous cocoa. It wasn’t all mended, not all the way. But the love was there. The rest would come with time.

Then Talula thought about the promise of baking lessons with Mrs. Bochart. She thought about game nights with Emilio and Anna, and long walks in the woods with Simon. She thought of this new power, waiting within her like an unexplored ocean.

She thought about the gift of Dahlia’s grin first thing in the morning, the plans they were making, the love story that was just beginning with no end in sight.

Talula’s life was filling up and up and up. But there was more to do. Ideas bloomed like supernovas in her mind. “I think…I already know.”

“I know you do.” Volta Talula reached over and gave Talula’s hand a squeeze.

“So what are you waiting for?”

Epilogue

Summer

“Birds are evil.” Dahlia threw a pillow at the window. “We must vanquish them.”

A handful of birds continued to trill enthusiastically from outside the cottage window. Dahlia, in protest, shoved her face deeper into one of Talula’s pillows.

Sleepily, Talula groaned in agreement. “I think they’re from Mom. It’s her new thing. She wants me to learn bird language.”

“I speak pretty good bird.” Without looking up from her pillow-faceplant, Dahlia thrust a middle finger at the cottage’s bay windows. The birds whistled with outrage and fluttered away.

Talula looped an arm around Dahlia’s waist and snuggled into her shoulder. “They’re going to tell Mom on me.”

“Pssh. Sara will think it’s hilarious.”

Together, they breathed a content, sleepy sigh into the quiet. It was interrupted by a familiar scratching on the other side of the bedroom door. “Get up, let’s go!”

“Five more minutes!” Dahlia begged.

“But I’m hungry!” Simon whined.

“There are rice balls in the fridge. Eat those,” Talula commanded.

“I’m not in the mood for rice balls, I want pastries. Bochart pastries!”

“Simon!” Talula and Dahlia yelled, a chorus they practiced at least twice a week.

Simon gave a dramatic hrmph and stomped away.

Dahlia let out another sigh, this time tinged with laughter. The two women cuddled tighter together, skin warm from sleep and closeness. Dahlia peeked at Talula over her shoulder. “How much time do rice balls buy us? In case I’m not sleepy anymore?”

Talula nuzzled her nose into the alcove behind Dahila’s ear, letting her lips graze against the skin there, her hands sliding up to Dahlia’s breasts. “Plenty.”

Lazy mornings like these weren’t as frequent as Talula would’ve liked. Her schedule (and life) had become a little bit more complicated since Samhain. After her chat with Volta Talula, she’d moved out of her mother’s house and rented the jasmine-covered cottage in Muriel’s backyard. Talula’s new place was a clean, bright little space barely bigger than a studio. But it came furnished and had a gas stove, plenty of counter space, and a back porch perfect for sipping tea in the mornings or wine in the evenings. Along with various necessities, she’d brought her favorite pots and pans, the good spatula, cookbooks, and a magical guard dog—though she’d not been consulted on the latter.

“What do you think ‘I’m never letting you out of my sight again’ means?” Simon had asked as he inspected the cottage.

“I don’t even know if this place is dog-friendly,” Talula had sputtered, balancing a stack of moving boxes on her hip.

“Why should that matter?”

The magical Council had offered to help restore Simon to his original shape, but he’d chosen to keep being Simon. He’d said life was more interesting on four legs this time around. And when it came to sticking with Talula, Simon was as good as his word. Simon went where Talula went. Even her new jobs.

Talula had called her old culinary mentor and asked if she knew of any restaurants that’d be willing to take her on. So long as the restaurants would teach her, Talula didn’t care if she was peeling potatoes eight hours a day. It also didn’t matter where these places were, Talula had mentioned carefully over the phone. Samin, who Talula had always suspected was magically inclined, gave a big, knowing laugh. A few interviews later, Talula had her first real restaurant job. Then another. And another.