Page 7 of Bring Me Your Midnight

“But it isn’t even noon yet,” I say. “I don’t need the whole day to get ready.”

“No, love, but you don’t need to be bombarded with questions all day, either. Go home, and I’ll handle the store on my own.” Her tone is sweet, but it’s clear her mind is made up.

“Okay, Mom, if you think that’s best.”

“I do.” She kisses me on my forehead, and I walk out the door just as a new wave of customers enters the shop. I hurry outside and hear my mom’s warm greeting as the door shuts behind me, welcoming patrons as if they’re the oldest of friends. While I sometimes think how exhausting it must be to hold herself to such high standards, the truth is that I’m in awe of her.

It’s an overcast day, and the cobbles are slick with rain. I lift my shawl above my head and make my way down Main Street, tryingto avoid eye contact so I won’t have to talk with anyone. Up until now, it’s been my mother whom most people recognize, so I haven’t had to worry about mainlanders stopping me on the street unless they’re regulars. But I suspect that will change after tonight.

When I pass Ivy’s tea shop, the Enchanted Cup, she knocks on the glass and waves me in. I look back toward the perfumery to make sure my mother isn’t watching, then duck inside. The Enchanted Cup is one of my favorite shops on Main, and not only because it belongs to Ivy’s family. The walls are a dusty rose pink with deep gold chair rails and matching crown molding on the ceiling. Candle sconces fill the space with delicate light, Ivy’s parents opting for candlelight even after the island was electrified because they wanted the shop to retain its original charm. But the real centerpiece is the grand chandelier in the middle of the room with twelve teacups hanging from gold chains, each holding an ivory candle. All the chairs are shades of pink velvet, and each table is set with gold stirring spoons and lace napkins.

“Where are you off to?” Ivy asks, clearing a table in the far corner and motioning for me to sit.

“Home. I was being bombarded with Landon questions this morning, and I don’t think I was fielding them as well as my mother would have liked.”

“No one fields questions like your mother.”

“I know. The bar is unbearably high.”

“I was just about to take my break. Want to sit with me before heading home?”

“Definitely. My mom seems to think it will take me the rest of the day to prepare for the ball tonight.”

Ivy laughs. “What does she want you to do? Individually curl each strand of hair on your head?”

“I’m sure she would love that,” I say, draping my shawl over the back of my chair.

“I’ll be right back. Want anything in particular?”

“Surprise me.”

I settle into my seat, and Ivy returns a few minutes later holding two teacups. She sets them down on the table before sitting across from me. As usual, she won’t tell me which tea she brought—she wants me to guess.

I take a few sips. It’s a black tea with hints of cinnamon and orange, and it feels bold and robust as it moves through me.

“Well?” she asks.

“Confidence?”

“You’re close, but no.”

I think I see my mother out of the corner of my eye, and instead of trying to make myself smaller so she won’t spot me, I sit up taller and lean forward. The woman turns, giving me a better look at her, and it isn’t my mom, but I think I know what Ivy gave me. I laugh and look at her.

“Bravery?”

“Yes! For tonight,” she says.

“Why would I need to feel brave?”

“Well, for starters, you hate being the center of attention, and this is the first time the mainlanders will see you in their world,so they’ll be watching. It’s also kind of your debut as a couple,andyou’ll be expected to dance. In front of everyone. It’s a lot.”

I take another sip of tea, much bigger than before. “You know, I wasn’t actually nervous until just now, so thanks for that.”

“No problem.” Ivy smiles and brings her teacup to her mouth.

“What are you drinking?” I ask, but before Ivy can answer, a teacup shatters on the ground. I look up and see an older woman standing at the marble counter, yelling at Mrs. Eldon, Ivy’s mother.

“This is too strong,” she shouts, shoving her pointer finger in Mrs. Eldon’s face. “I can feel you trying to compel me! No one drink the tea,” she says, turning to the other patrons in the shop. The room falls silent, all the conversation and clatter sucked up by the woman’s words. Ivy stands and goes to her mother’s side.