Page 33 of Two’s A Charm

IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE IN MAGIC

Bonnie

Bonnie had been standing outside the cottage on Tintagel Lane for fifteen minutes, the plate of fresh cookies in her hands slowly cooling off.

There was no sign of Hannah, who’d asked her to assist with the home open, just in case a serial killer showed up and decided to off her.

Between the demands of the bar and Kirsty’s weird dalliance with Bobby, Bonnie was extremely aware that her grasp on her friendship group was slipping away.

So here she was, doing her bit to get things back on track.

And this was how she’d been repaid. She nibbled a cookie, feeling miffed that she’d gone out of her way to help Hannah, only to be stood up.

A young couple with a red wagon containing a small, napping child hurried up. ‘Did we miss it?’ asked the woman, who had the slightly unhinged, ready-to-snap look of someone subjected to sleep deprivation over a period of several years.

‘Not at all,’ said Bonnie, pasting a smile on her face. ‘We’re just getting started.’

Thankfully the lockbox on the door had the same code that Hannah’s agency always used, and Bonnie had been to enough of these things with Hannah that she had it memorized. She’d also enjoyed a party here just a few weeks earlier, although she wasn’t about to mention that to potential buyers.

‘It’s such a cute place,’ said the mom, marvelling at the neat rose bushes that framed the garden, and the lush lawn with its quaint flagstone pavers. ‘It has a turret! I could do my art there. I’m Beatrice, by the way. And this is Todd. And little Olivia.’

Of course, thought Bonnie. It was always Olivia. There were so many Olivias that if you were going to name your kid Olivia you almost needed to give them an extra first name to differentiate them.

Introducing herself with a handshake, Bonnie grabbed the key from the lockbox and pushed open the front door.

‘A yellow door!’ exclaimed Beatrice. ‘I’ve always wanted a yellow door!’

Bonnie set down the cookies on the entry table by the front door. ‘We call this one the Dorothy House – because of the gingham and red trim, not because it got swept up in a tornado and landed on a witch.’

‘Well, that’s good to hear,’ drawled Todd, pushing the stroller into the living room. ‘I don’t want to be dealing with foundation issues.’

Beatrice groaned, but Bonnie humoured him with a laugh. Whatever it took to show Hannah she was an excellent friend. ‘Take a look around and let me know what you think. Um, I’ll have you sign in, though.’

Hannah did this bit ordinarily, but if she was a no-show, Bonnie might as well help her out. She drew out one of her bartending notepads from her purse.

‘Could I grab your emails and phone numbers? It’s a head office thing.’

‘Um, sure.’ The couple wrote down their details, then, each with a cookie in hand, went to explore the house. Bonnie could hear Beatrice exclaiming about the home’s various charms: its quaint carpets, the vintage hanging light fixtures, the bay windows with their plush window seats.

Bonnie checked her phone. Still nothing from Hannah.

Hopefully she hadn’t been murdered on her way – not that Bonnie could remember the last time any sort of violent crime had happened in town.

A few years ago, some of the high-school seniors had got a bit overexcited about egging the gymnasium, and there’d been a feuding couple who’d drawn rude pictures on each other’s cars, but that was about it.

Hannah was probably just sleeping off a date or a late-night Lost marathon.

A trickle of other visitors came through, mostly neighbours wanting a peek inside the house or a free cookie. Freddie Noonan even stopped by, although by his own admission only to compare the quality of the home’s turf with his own.

‘They were runner-up in the Yellowbrick Grove Garden of Perfection this year,’ he admitted, pulling off a pair of gardening gloves so that he could partake in a cookie. ‘I need to see what I’m dealing with. And perhaps get proactive if I’m going to keep my crown.’

Bonnie grinned. ‘No one could ever take your flower crown, Freddie.’

‘You’re a darl. And you’re right. That section under the fence is patchy.’ He pointed triumphantly. ‘Just don’t tell potential buyers, or they’ll come down on their offer.’

‘Wow, I didn’t realize grass could affect a sale price like that.’

‘A perfect lawn is a perfect lawn. And with that, I’m off to the garden centre for some fertilizer.’ Freddie sauntered off down the pathway, doing a little skip as he passed the section of lawn that he’d apparently found wanting.

Next through the door was Tammi, that weird woman who hung out at the library all day eating crackers. Adding a squiggle to Bonnie’s sign-in sheet, Tammi grabbed half a dozen cookies and dropped them in her bag before disappearing into one of the bedrooms, presumably to eat said cookies.

As she kept track of the visitors, Bonnie kept texting Hannah, but to no avail.

Had she forgotten to charge her phone? Surely not.

Despite how airy-fairy she was, Hannah was chronically organized.

Her wedding-planner mom was intensely high pressure, and her dad’s memory condition required careful, coordinated care.

When the trickle of visitors slowed, Bonnie went to find Beatrice and Todd, who were still wandering around the house somewhere. They were upstairs, in a room with cathedral ceilings and a bed with a chiffon canopy that felt like something out of a fairy tale.

‘The perfect princess room,’ she mouthed, seeing that their little one was asleep on Todd’s shoulder.

‘Sorry! We didn’t want to wake her,’ Beatrice whispered from the plush Sherpa armchair she was perched on, obviously feeling awkward about sitting on someone else’s furniture.

‘It’s fine,’ whispered Bonnie. ‘How are you liking the house? It can come furnished, you know. The owner is moving to Florida.’

Beatrice stroked the armchair. ‘The furniture is gorgeous. Babe, I love it,’ she told Todd.

Todd, who was rocking from side to side with Olivia in his arms, nodded. ‘We’re definitely interested, but we’ll need to figure out a price. Can we give you a call tonight?’

‘Sure, sure!’ said Bonnie. She dug in her wallet, looking around for Hannah’s card.

She’d had one, but she’d given it to some property investor guy at the bar a few weeks back who wouldn’t stop flirting with her.

Thankfully, the prospect of tax-deductible income in a market that Bonnie assured him was booming for short-term vacation rentals had been enough to make him turn his attention away from her.

‘Oh rats. I don’t have the managing realtor’s card on me, but I do have some drinks cards for The Silver Slipper.’ She held those up, somewhat surprised at how savagely Beatrice snatched them out of her hands.

Mama wants a drink, she thought wryly.

‘That sounds lovely. We’ll be there. Oh wait, it’s your place?’ Beatrice’s lips moved as she read the copy on the back of the voucher. ‘That is so impressive. I’ve always wanted to be a small business owner. Maybe a plant shop. Or a bookshop. Or a plant bookshop.’

‘The feminine dream,’ said Bonnie, marvelling at the magnificent monstera in the corner. The plant was so big it was basically a botanical CPAP machine.

‘Instead, I’m an engineer.’ Beatrice made a face. ‘Yay numbers and keeping bridges from falling down.’

‘Oh, is that all?’ Bonnie chuckled, but a wistful feeling overcame her as she glanced around the room once more.

She’d never been one to think about settling down, but there was something about this cute little family in this cosy little house that called to her.

Perhaps, one day, she’d be one half of a couple browsing quaint cottages and excitedly talking about where the furniture might go.

Perhaps there was a future that involved nights sprawled in front of the television, and home-made pizza with his and hers toppings, and building a collection of seasonal decorations that would be added to each year.

But there was only one person who came to mind when she considered the possibility, and the last time she’d seen him, she’d thrown all of his kindness and generosity right back into his face.

‘C’mon, I’ll see you out,’ she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

Bonnie was clearing empty pitchers and glasses from the bar’s patio area when she felt a slightly queasy feeling in her stomach.

She turned, knowing her uncle was somewhere in the vicinity.

Ah, there he was, dressed not unlike the tree he was standing beneath.

Only with more velvet and definitely more gemstones.

‘Bonnie, my dear!’ he called. ‘Busy, busy, I see. I just thought I’d stop by to drop off some extra coasters.

Don’t want to ruin the wood of these tables, do we?

Twenty per cent discount if you bring that to Behind the Curtain!

’ he told one of the teachers from the high school as he slid a coaster beneath her purple drink.

She looked up from the tests she was marking, surprised.

‘For you, I recommend blue calcite,’ he said. ‘It helps with communication when trying to impart those difficult concepts. Grades will soar.’

Once he was done explaining the wonders of blue calcite to the teacher, he made his way over to Bonnie, his cane tapping against the flagstones.

‘Fabulous job, Bonnie. Just fabulous,’ he said, sliding an envelope onto Bonnie’s tray. ‘I’ve sold five Bastet cats today alone. That said, if you want to dial up the intensity, I am all for it.’

Then he grimaced. He’d spied Beatrice and Todd and their wagon approaching.

‘The arrival of a child signals that it’s my time to exit,’ he said with a shudder. ‘If you need more coasters, just knock.’