Page 80 of Potions and Proposals
“I can pick it up whenever. I might be delayed if I’m working at my stall for the festival, but I’ll sneak away when I get a chance,” she said, trying to contain her elation.
“Toffee apples again?” He beamed, putting the pieces for her order on the work bench behind him.
“Wouldn’t be a festival without them!” She was looking forward to them herself. The best part about making them was being able to eat as many as possible.
“My favourite,” he said, patting his stomach.
“I’ll save an extra one for you. The least I can do for the rush orders we’ve put you through.”
“I’ll look forward to it, but it’s no trouble. Benedict ordered extra stones just in case, so I don’t have to wait for them,” he said, writing up a receipt.
“I insist – as many apples as you like, free of charge.”
“Thank you,” he chuckled, handing her the carbon copy of the receipt. She didn’t even want to look at the price, but since it would be the only binding ring she’d ever buy, it was worth it.
The air felt thin as the thought settled in. They were going through with it.
“Good thinking with the dark stone. He’ll be pleased to see how well you know him. Certainly makes my job a lot easier,” Mr Mulligan said.
“It’s easy when you’ve known each other forever.”
“Pardon me for saying, but I was only saying to my granddaughter how you both make a fine match,” he told her. “She was here when Benedict came in to collect your ring. She’s only eight, but any mention or rumour of bindings and she’s obsessed with the idea of loving someone forever.”
Lucy smiled. She wished it was so easy, to find someone and just love them. Yet in a way, she wondered if she’d always loved Benedict; they’d spent most of their lives together, and she had never truly wanted any harm to come to him. As troublesome as he was, she couldn’t imagine her life without him, whether they were bound or not. He was a constant in her life that she was sure she’d miss if he was gone.
“Sorry for rambling on– it was my roundabout way of saying congratulations,” Mr Mulligan said, waving a hand as she moved to pay him. “No rush on that, you can pay on collection.” He placed the order request under a magnet on his workbench behind the counter. “Need to make sure you’re happy with the work first.”
“I’m sure it’ll be perfect.” Lucy tried not to chortle. She was putting more care and thought into the ring than she had about agreeing to be bound to Benedict in the first place! “Thank you again for the rush order. I’ll let you lock up.” She hadn’t realised how late it was until she’d noticed the clock on the back wall.
“Get home safe!”
She stilled by the door.“If Benedict comes in, please don’t mention the ring?”
“My lips are sealed.”
Lucy found herself still smiling as she headed home. She kept picturing Benedict’s face when she gave it to him. He’d smile, hopefully, which always felt like a big win. She almost got more joy out of making him smile than his usual scowl.
Outside the gate to Hawthorne House, she stopped, reminding herself they weren’t actually engaged. But Benedict was right when he’d said that just because they’d agreed to be bound for political reasons, it didn’t mean they shouldn’t take part in what everyone else got to experience. Like others before them, they were deciding to spend this life and the next with each other. Maybe it was okay to be excited about that.
“I think we have some things to discuss.”
Lucy winced, stalling on the porch steps when she saw her mum sitting in Grams’s rocking chair. They’d managed to avoid each other since the incident at the manor, mostly because Lucy had been kept busy with the arranging of the festival and the library. Getting up before her and getting home late also helped. Thankfully, her mum had also been distracted arranging her retirement adventures with Lucy’s dad.
“Everything’s fine. Thank you for helping at the manor the other day,” Lucy babbled. Rain was pouring off the roof; she just wanted to get inside and get dry.
“Not so fast. You can’t avoid me forever,” Mum said, patting the seat on the porch swing.
“I’m tired. Between the library and the festival, I’m desperate for a cup of tea and my bed. I promise I’ve got everything under control,” Lucy pleaded, wanting to be left alone.
She’d done enough talking at the festival meeting earlier in the day about last-minute details for the festival’s opening night dance tomorrow – a special way of welcoming everyone to the town, and also of getting them drunk on pumpkin punch, so they didn’t care how much they spent at the market stalls. Her ears were still ringing from Mrs Crawford’s demands for more chaperones. More often than not, some of the underage magic folk managed to get hold of a few cups of pumpkin punch. Last year they’d turned the town hall into a giant jack-in-the-box. Terrifying and hilarious, but illegal, and there had been morethan a few complaints from the magless. Thankfully no one had been hurt. Benedict had agreed to double the number of chaperones and bottle the punch just to get out of the vamp bar before night fell. She’d expected him to ask her why she hadn’t got started with the curse-stripping potion, but it had never come up. Then again, he’d been busy with the Manor, sorting out the mess created by the wolves and the burst pipe. A lot of guests had wanted to check out, but after some damage control and a massive amount of charm, he’d managed to make everyone forget about all the drama.
Anyway, she couldn’t use the brewing room at home because she was trying to avoid her family. It wasn’t like she was delaying intentionally.
“You’re under a lot of pressure, but I want –needto know that everything is fine,” Mum said, closing the book on her lap. “I want you to drain the water from that flower-pot.”
“I forgot to water them this morning. They could use a good soak.” Lucy reached for the door handle.
“Lucinda, don’t make me ask twice.” It wasn’t a request.
