Page 46

Chapter Forty-Six

A few days later, on Christmas Eve, I dressed in a deep-green sweater, black skirt and tights, and warm boots before driving to Bryce’s house. His home was fifteen minutes away in a housing community slightly outside of Weed proper.

I smiled as the giant wreath I had made for them came into view as I approached the house but shivered a little at the red berries that adorned it.

My session with Petra the previous night had involved a concoction of red berries and had been more strenuous than any before. So far, there were no signs that we were breaking down the binds on my magic, but Petra had a plan to take things a step further, which we would be testing after Christmas.

I scanned the rest of the front porch before knocking, noticing Aunt Vera’s touch everywhere. Rosie—our family rose bush—was climbing up the front of Bryce’s house as if it had been there for years, not months, and was blooming the softer hue of pink that it took in winter.

“Come in, come in.” My aunt somehow managed to hold open the door and pull me in for a hug all in one movement.

“These are for you and Bryce.” I handed her the wrapped gifts— perfume and cologne I’d made at the academy.

I used what I knew about my aunt and Bryce to create scents that I hoped would make them always crazy for one another.

I might have been a little inspired by Callan’s nefarious activities with my pheromone profile.

“Put them under the tree,” Aunt Vera said.

It was strange seeing such a tall tree with my aunt’s ornaments on it. We had only ever had small or fake trees in her apartment. But Bryce’s ceilings were twelve feet tall, and the tree extended nearly all the way up.

“Hey, B. Merry Christmas.” Bryce extended his arms for a hug.

“I hope you’re ready to be the judge of the Christmas cake decorating contest this year. It’s not for the faint of heart, but since you were brave enough to marry into the family, I’m sure you’re up for the task.”

My aunt called out from the kitchen, “If I don’t win, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight!”

“And if I don’t win, we’ll know it was rigged,” I shot back.

Bryce stuck up his hands. “You two are making this sound real appealing.”

I laughed and placed my tiny presents under the tree. “It looks like Rosie is doing good outside there. Did you have any trouble moving her?”

“I was terrified to unclip her from the trellis on your balcony,” Bryce admitted. “We got a couple friends to help, but once we attached her over here, she seemed to do great. One of the friends that helped is a gardener, and she was impressed with how well it transferred.”

“Did your gardener friend know what kind of rosebush it is?” I asked.

Bryce and I moved into the dining room.

“I don’t think so. She did say she thought it was a rare variety.”

“Are you talking about Rosie?” Aunt Vera asked.

“Yeah, do you know what species it is?” Bryce asked .

“I’m not sure. We’ve always just referred to it as a trailing rosebush.”

“Do you mind if I take a cutting of it?” I asked. I had forgotten all about trying to identify it with the books at Evergreen Academy.

Aunt Vera shook her head. “Of course not. I think Rosie is indestructible.”

I glanced across the room to where my aunt was doing the dishes. The poinsettia I’d given her was on the counter next to her, its leaves subtly arching toward the light from the window above her.

My aunt and Bryce thought the poinsettia was a fresh one I purchased this year when really it was the same one I had accidentally enchanted last year.

“Ready for this competition?” my aunt asked, drawing my eyes away from the poinsettia. Two cooled cakes were on the counter before her, waiting to be decorated.

“Born ready,” I said.

An hour later, as the timer dinged, I examined the nutcracker theme I had attempted to pull off. The grandfather clock was my favorite part, but I thought the mice had come out pretty great as well. When I turned around to see what my aunt had come up with, I grinned.

Aunt Vera had covered her cake in three-dimensional blooming flowers. To tie it into the Christmas theme, she had made them all in shades of red, green, and white.

“Went with a floral theme this year?” I asked as my aunt dusted her hands on her apron.

“I think you inspired me with your floral creations at the wedding.”

“All right, Bryce. You’re up.”

Bryce walked into the kitchen, putting on a dramatically scared expression. He looked over both of our cakes, walking circles around them like a baking show judge, then said, “Can I call it a draw?”

My aunt and I both let out an exasperated gasp and shook our heads.

“Come on, Bryce. We thought you were up for the task,” I teased.

“Are there any criteria for this? Choosing which is better is a little subjective.” Bryce wasn’t wrong.

I had become much more scientific in these sorts of things since joining Evergreen Academy, and our judging methods would never hold up against Brie’s and her complex matrix for scoring the gingerbread house competition.

Bryce began pointing back and forth between the two cakes and murmuring.

“You’re doing eeny meeny miny moe, aren’t you?” Aunt Vera rolled her eyes, though a smile graced her lips.

“Moe,” he said, landing on my cake. “You’re the winner, B. Congrats.”

Aunt Vera looked pointedly toward the couch. “Hope you’ll be comfortable there tonight, sweetie. Don’t interfere with Santa.”

When I laughed as Bryce retreated to the living room, my aunt turned to me and lowered her voice. “Just between the two of us, I think Bryce picked the right cake. Your skills have been majorly growing. Maybe you should consider culinary school instead of art school.”

Her tone was light, but I bit my lower lip, and she noticed. “Or do you have something else in mind?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, responding slowly to buy myself time. I couldn’t explain the real reason I was conflicted, but I had always been able to share things with Aunt Vera, and this didn’t have to be any different. “Up until I started at Evergreen Academy, I was so sure of my plans. And now…”

“Plans change, Briar Rose. In fact, I was considering law school before I started apprenticing at the old bakery. ”

“What?” I leaned my elbows onto the counter. “You never told me that.”

“It’s true. When your mom was getting ready to transfer to art school, I was thinking about attending a university and then studying law. I was the top student in debate class in high school.”

I snorted. That was no surprise. “So what happened? Why didn’t you pursue it?”

“The bakery apprenticeship sort of fell into my lap, and at the time, it just felt right. I’ve never looked back.”

I pressed myself backward, leaning so hard against the back of the barstool that its front legs began to lift off the ground.

I straightened up when I noticed. “Wow. It’s so hard to imagine you doing something else.

The café feels like an extension of who you are.

You would have been a kickass lawyer, though. ”

“I’ve never had any regrets. Sometimes different options present themselves for a reason. The thrill of life is the choice in what path you take.”

I nodded, considering her words. If I didn’t go to art school, what would my path be? I thought of the work I had been doing with Petra. Were there careers for magical botanists with defensive affinities? It was hard to even think about that when we were still working on un-poisoning my powers.

My aunt Vera spoke again, and this time her voice was soft as her eyes searched my face. “You know your mom would be proud no matter what you do, right?”

I hurried to nod even as I swallowed a lump in my throat.

She’d hit on the crux of the matter. I had always loved art, but the driving force for pursuing art school was because it had been my mom’s path.

It was my connection to her and a fulfillment of her dreams. What would she think about Evergreen Academy and magical botanists and affinity powers?

What option would she have chosen, if she were in my shoes?

“And no matter what you decide, you can rest easy knowing that you have the coolest aunt in the land,” Aunt Vera said .

I laughed at what was obviously a joke but what meant so much more than she realized. I did have her to fall back on, and that reassurance meant more than she knew.

“Without a doubt,” I agreed. “Dibs on picking the Christmas movie!” I called so that Bryce could hear.

And then I focused on being present in this season with these two people who cared about Briar the girl, not Briar the botanist with all the affinity powers.

That identity would be back soon enough.