Page 47 of Two’s A Charm

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Bonnie

If only Uncle Oswald’s recipe book had a wakefulness potion, thought Bonnie, who was presently being buffeted by wave upon wave of exhaustion. She was starting to feel like the subject of a psychological experiment. The busy nights and long days of prep and admin were already a major undertaking.

Bonnie checked the Memory Lane recipe store in the massive fridge out back, which Clark had helped her lug inside a few days earlier.

Demand for the charmed concentrate continued to grow.

She’d gone from a few pitchers a night, to a bar fridge, to this huge industrial beast whose energy consumption would surely give Effie a fit.

Although handily, Bonnie was now in a position to cover it.

It was hard to deny the profitability of this enterprise, she thought, going over the takings from the past week.

The margins on the magical cocktails were excellent, and the high demand combined with the kickbacks from Uncle Oswald had taken Bonnie out of the red and into thriving local business status.

So much so that Oswald had come in the other day talking about scaling up to other locations.

‘We could even franchise!’ he’d suggested, pulling out a set of numbers that the bank would love but that had just about made Bonnie break out into hives.

The thought of unleashing her wayward magic on whole cities and states terrified her, especially now that she was almost certain that the recipes were having more than the intended effect.

But when she’d tried to broach the subject with him, he’d waved her off.

‘Drinking makes people forget their heads,’ he pointed out. ‘Isn’t that the whole point?’

Bonnie had pressed him about it, but to no avail.

‘Magic has side effects,’ he’d said, his eyes glinting with a darkness that had made Bonnie glance away. ‘And you’re the one with the magic, after all.’

Oswald was right. Anything that happened was her fault, really. She was the one preparing the spells. She was the one passing out the drinks.

‘But I’ll make sure this is our little secret,’ he’d said soothingly, with a thin smile. ‘Just so long as you do, too.’

She’d nodded, but her stomach had refused to settle.

‘Cassandra’s here, hon,’ called Clark from the patio.

Great. On top of the issues of conscience and the endless demand for the hexed liquor, a journalist had just arrived to interview her about the business’s success.

All right, so it wasn’t for the Yellowbrick Grove Gazette .

But student journalism still counted. Even if said journalist had mostly gotten wind of the story because she’d bumped into Clark at the college library and had stopped by over the weekend for discount cocktails.

At least the mates’ rates paid off with some good PR.

Ah, there she was now.

Bonnie opened the door to Cassandra, who had a penchant for the structured but baggy look, and fiery hair that matched the chrysanthemum planters outside.

‘Sorry I’m late. I decided one of those scooters was a good idea, and I took a wrong turn. No sense of direction, I suppose!’

Bonnie winced. It was absolutely impossible to take a wrong turn from the college to the bar: the two were a straight shot from each other.

Not to mention that the college–downtown trip was the one journey that every freshman mastered (mostly drunkenly and on the first night of semester).

Were her drinks at fault? Or was Cassandra just terribly disorganized?

‘Happens to the best of us,’ said Bonnie brightly, just in case.

She cleared a table, inviting Cassandra to sit down. ‘Um, you’re welcome to record. Especially if it involves video. I’m at my best on video.’

‘Oh, I don’t need to record. I have a photographic memory.’

‘Right. Like Terrance,’ said Bonnie.

Cassandra frowned. ‘Terrance?’

‘He’s memorizing a deck of cards as part of a College Kids Got Talent audition.’

‘You interviewed him, hon,’ Clark reminded her as he pulled a stack of dishes from the dishwasher and started putting them away. ‘You did a two-page piece, with sidebars including the probability of drawing a certain card, and ways that he could conceivably cheat.’

Bonnie swallowed. Poor Terrance. He’d never get past the first round unless he went cold turkey on the pitchers of Memory Lane.

But he hadn’t been great at his chosen talent prior to trying Bonnie’s hexed drinks, so was she really to blame here?

Maybe he could switch his talent to latte art or something.

‘So, tell me about your bar. You just opened, right? This week.’

‘It was a few months ago, actually,’ said Bonnie, trying to keep the alarm from her voice. ‘But we changed the menu recently, which might be what you’re thinking of.’

‘No, I don’t think that’s it.’ Cassandra leaned forward, eyes sparkling. ‘So, everyone’s obsessed with this, um...’

‘Memory Lane,’ supplied Clark.

‘That’s it! This Memory Lane drink of yours. Tell me, what makes it so unforgettable?’ Cassandra held up a finger. ‘You know what? I think I will record.’

For the first time in her life, Bonnie was sweating with anxiety. Her underarms prickled and her heart thrummed. Her words felt thick in her mouth, and instead of charming and chatty, she felt awkward and unbecoming. Was this what it felt like to be Effie?

But then, a reprieve. Tessa and Alana were pushing their way through the patio side door. Bonnie could’ve kissed them. Although, from how close together they were standing, it looked like she might be the third wheel in that situation.

‘I’m so sorry, but I’ve double-booked,’ she said, doing everything in her power not to crow with relief. ‘It’s a business thing. Could we reschedule?’

Cassandra hit pause on her recording app. ‘Sure. Anything for the proprietor of The Golden Stiletto.’

Bonnie didn’t even bother to correct her.

Besides, the poor girl would probably have forgotten about this whole interaction by the time she got out to the square.

Which was a relief, because Cassandra gave Alana and Tessa a look that suggested she might not entirely have believed Bonnie’s excuse.

But there was nothing Bonnie could do about that now.

‘Hey, babes,’ Bonnie said, giving Alana a hug and, in a first, extending the same to Tessa. ‘Given up yoga for day-drinking, huh? Now this is a quality-of-life choice I love to see.’

‘Glad you’re looking out for us.’ Alana shook out her auburn hair. ‘We just came from a session in the studio. We’re going to go check out Tessa’s new space.’

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re really going for it, huh. Well, let me know if you still want to collab. A craft market, maybe. Or a pot and papercraft night.’

‘Beers and beading,’ suggested Tessa.

‘Chardonnay and crochet,’ added Alana.

Tessa and Bonnie both laughed.

‘ABC. Anything but chardonnay,’ Bonnie and Alana chimed in together, courtesy of a twenty-one-year-old Bonnie’s favourite catchphrase.

‘Noted for future reference,’ said Tessa. ‘Do you want to see the space? Hannah’s meeting us in a few. Hopefully.’

‘She completely flaked last time,’ confided Alana.

Bonnie swallowed. This was at least the second time Hannah had flaked on a client appointment.

And who knew what else she was flaking on in her life – hopefully not her responsibilities to her dad, who needed her now more than ever.

She might have to switch her friend to wine only until she sorted herself out.

Perhaps it was time to go back to the recipe book and give some of the other spells a try. But where would she even get the time for that? She was already run ragged with just the Memory Lane concentrate.

‘Babe,’ said Alana, who was squirming on the spot, ‘I gotta pee. Way too much reverse osmosis water. Is that okay?’

Bonnie stepped aside – she’d never stand between a famously small bladder and a bathroom. ‘Be my guest. You know where to find the good paper.’

‘Always.’ Alana hurried inside, doing the thigh-squishing pee walk that Bonnie saw all too often among her patrons.

Watching her go with a lovesick gaze, Tessa plonked down on one of the plush outdoor couches that packed the patio area.

At Bonnie’s request, Clark brought out some lemonade and brownies, which Bonnie had taken to outsourcing since the introduction of the Memory Lane concentrate. A girl could only juggle so much.

‘So, how’re things going with the two of you?

’ Bonnie asked, curious. It was so odd to see one of her friends spending time with Effie’s one and only friend, but stranger things had happened in the past few weeks.

And besides, she was beginning to quite like Tessa.

She was like Effie, but less likely to tell you off.

Tessa smiled shyly. ‘Really...well. It’s new, obviously, and we haven’t put a label on it yet – I don’t even know if I’m ready for a label – but it’s great.’

‘I love it for you,’ said Bonnie, who meant it.

Tessa’s interest in Alana hadn’t gone unnoticed over the years.

Not with Bonnie, anyway, and she’d long thought that the feelings had been reciprocated.

Alana had always lingered at the door of the Chalmers house whenever Tessa was over.

She’d even signed up for a library card after Bonnie had mentioned that Tessa spent almost as much time as Effie at the library.

And in recent months she’d taken a surprise interest in crocheting, despite having had a lifelong passion for one hundred per cent cotton clothing.

‘I’m glad at least one sister does,’ said Tessa.

Bonnie was surprised at this.

‘Has Effie said something? Because she’s not a bigot or anything. She’s the biggest champion of Pride Month the library has ever seen.’

‘Oh, it’s not like that,’ said Tessa. ‘It’s more...’ She waved her arms in a circular motion, encapsulating their two very separate friendship groups.

‘It’s me,’ realized Bonnie. ‘In the iconic words of our goddess Taylor Swift, I’m the problem.’