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“Everyone loves a pretty candle,” Mal says. “Tell us, what’s the hardest part about running your business?”

“Time management. See, I’m still doing my other job, which is nannying my two nephews in Roscoe Village.

But after my initial orders went out, I moved to a model where the products I sell are going to be moon-charged by me , which means I get to ship everything out after the next lunar cycle comes and goes.

This means just one trip to the post office per month—albeit it a very large one—instead of ad hocfulfillment.

Some people may have to wait a little longer for their product depending on when in the cycle they ordered, but it will be worth it.

At the end of the day, it’s more than just a pretty candle ,” I explain, borrowing Mal’s term.

“You’ve already mastered infusing crystals with powers to change people’s lives. You’ve got a candle empire in the works. Your herbs help people feel relaxed in their homes. What is it about you, Moonie?”

“I’ve got a great purveyor and an entrepreneurial spirit,” I answer.

“And I’ve got a great nanny and two kids, but that doesn’t automatically make me World’s Best Dad,” Antonio counters. “There’s got to be something more to you , Moonie Miller. What exactly is it?”

I was given a copy of the questions ahead of time. This one was not on it. I pause and wonder if now is the time I should go intoExexveei. Right here? Right now? Live on regional television? Before I can make a decision, Mal chimes in.

“She must be a witch. ”

“Huh?” I ask. My voice feels quiet, like maybe they cut my mic.

“That would make sense,” Antonio concurs. “I mean, look at her costume.”

“This is just my outfit,” I clarify.

“All that’s missing is two braids down the sides and she’s a version of Wednesday Addams!” he continues on.

I don’t think the Addams family were witches, but now that Antonio has remarked it, here’s to hoping my Instagram inbox doesn’t get bombarded by freaks with Cosplay fetishes.

My mouth goes dry and I fall silent as I look toward the producer sitting at the helm of the in-studio audience for direction. He makes a rolling motion with his arms as if to say “wrap it up.”

“So what’s next for Chicago’s most popular witch?” Antonio asks.

“I’m not a witch,” I say, my voice still feeling only slightly above a whisper.

“Adopting a black cat? Riding a broomstick to avoid traffic on I-90?”Mal continues the shtick.

Antonio nearly spits out his coffee as he sets his mug back on the table. I look back over to the producer for a lifeline. He lifts his hands in an “I give up” kind of manner, leaving me alone to fend for my dignity.

“I’m quite allergic to cats, actually. And as far as my next steps, I’d love to do some in-person work.”

“In-person work. Is that witch-speak for: you want to put spells on people? ” Antonio jokes. “Because if so, I’ll pay big money for some abracadabra that keeps my wife from nagging me while I’m trying to watch the Bears.”

“Kathy’s going to kill you for that one!” jokes Mal, as she laughs and nudges Antonio in the arm.

The two snicker as I’ve instantly become the odd woman out—emphasis on odd .

When I agreed to do this segment, I was nervous but promised myself things would go smoothly if I just rehearsed solid answers to their preset questions.

But now, the wheels are coming off the longer the segment goes on and I didn’t come here to be mocked or to be accused of being a witch.

No offense to those who identify as one, but I haven’t dedicated every free moment I’ve had researching my gift only to be mislabeled.

If the producer doesn’t know how to properly end things on this stage, then I’ll have to do it myself. I take their mockery as my cue to unclip my mic and bolt. I give a final wave and smile to the studio audience before seeing my way out.

As I plop down on the couch in the greenroom, I let out an audible sigh.

Maybe Mal and Antonio were right to laugh me off the stage.

Maybe this is all a joke. Or, at most, a fad that will wear off once @Sheree_in_the_City posts about the next great thing—probably someone who dyes eyelashes the perfect shade of black-brown or can make zero carb noodles that taste like fettuccine alfredo from Olive Garden.

I wish I could put my right hand against my left palm and see a glimpse into my own future right now.

Perhaps it would show a vision of me sitting at a teacher’s desk in the front of a classroom after all.

I feel so far from the idea that my life’s work would be within the Chicago Public School system, but after being literally laughed off stage this morning, I wonder now more than ever if that’s where I was meant to be this whole time.

Is it too late for yet another Moonie Miller life pivot?

Would anyone even hire a yoga studio assistant-turned day-time TV witch-turned wannabe teacher?

In the midst of my existential crisis, I can hear my phone buzz from inside my purse. I fetch it and see a million notifications on the screen. Most recently, an incoming text from Nora. I slide to open it.

Saw you on TV. WTF. We need to talk .

Liv is also copied on it, which marks our first-ever Miller-sister group text. I can’t believe it’s taken twenty-six years.

Meet at Nora’s house at noon, Liv contributes.

I give it a thumbs up asI toggle away from my textsand check my Instagram instead.

I’ve gotten two hundred new followers since my interview and I’ve been tagged in several posts and stories.

At the top of my list is a notification from @Sheree_in_the_City , who made a word meme of one of the things I said—“I’m quite allergic to cats, actually”—and paired it with a cat emoji and a red X.

Her caption is a series of hashtags: # thatsmygirl # LOL # getyourMBA

Familiar with The Shereé Effect, I take a quick peek at my online shop’s stats: thirty new orders and counting.

I spring up with a renewed pep in my step and shoot a quick text to Angeline letting her know a bulk order will be coming her way by the end of the day once I tally the final numbers.

Whatever Mal and Antonio did to throw me off, actually may have workedin my favor.

On it, Angeline responds with lightning speed.

For as life-changing as Shereé’s initial tag has been for me, it’s also turned Angeline’s world upside down.

What she used to do in monthly sales prior to meeting me, she now does in a week because of me.

Together, we’re the unlikeliest duo, but also a budding dream team of energy field workers, who are silently vowing to ride this wave together for as long as we can.

Speaking of riding this wave, an email dings on my phone. It’s a new contact submission form generated from my website. This particular note is from a Mr. Roger Macnider —subject line: Opportunity .

Dear Ms. Miller,

I am the General Manager of Chicago’s iconic hotel, The Brockmeier .

I watched your segment on Windy City Today this morning.

Toward the end, I caught you stating that you’d like to get into some in-person work.

So, on behalf of the entire Brockmeier team, we’d love to host you next Friday night.

That is the night of our annual all-staff party here at the hotel.

For the last decade, I’ve made it a tradition for our colleagues to gather as close to Halloween as our occupancy allows as we celebrate the end of our busiest season and honor The Lady in Red, the rumored spooky spirit that haunts our iconic hotel.

The gathering is to be held in our sumptuous Palm Court.

What I’d like is for you to come and work some of your magic at the party.

Crystal therapy. DIY candle making. Palm reading.

Whatever. The idea would be that the hardworking ladies and gentlemen of The Brockmeier (there will be about fifty in attendance) could come visit your spiritual station in between their mixing and mingling at the soiree.

I’ll leave it to you to inspire my staff to get in touch with their energy so we can be poised and ready for a prosperous festive season.

We’d also like everyone to come away with a party favor from Moon Batch Apothecary.

Smudge sticks for all? I do know that this is short notice and you hold a busy schedule.

That said, would a prepaid sum of $5,000, plus a 20 percent cash tip on the night of, suffice to confirm your attendance?

Of course, if the Presidential is available that evening, I shall arrange for it to be reserved in your name, as well.

Please respond back at your earliest convenience and I’ll have my executive assistant facilitate the details and payment.

Warmest regards,

Roger Macnider

Just a few moments ago, I was sitting on this couch doubting everything I thought I knew about following my dreams. And then, a few moments before that, I was sitting on a different couch being lambasted by two out-of-touch, energy-whacked boomers who took me seriously until they didn’t.

Now, I’ve received a generous offer to showcase my business at Chicago’s most legendary hotel where rooms start at $800 a night and may or may not be haunted by a mythical Lady in Red. I can’t hit reply fast enough.

Mr. Macnider,

My palm reading skills are on hold for the moment. But aside from that, count me in.

-Moonie Miller