Page 83 of Potions and Proposals
Mrs Crawford didn’t tell me. But this might win you some points from the Matherson supporters. Going the extra mile.
Good point. But you still owe me.
GIANT WOLF HUG. I’m going to call Emerson! Also, don’t forget your costume! We can debrief at the apple stall later tonight! x
Later that night, Lucy’s black patent stilettos clicked against the porch. It was already a little past six, so she had plenty of time to get to the town square for seven. She’d enchanted her heels so they wouldn’t hurt her feet – there hadn’t been time to shorten the floor-length dress.
She found her mum and Gwendoline sitting on the porch with a pitcher of wine between them. The crimson liquid was topped with herbs, probably to prevent them from getting a hangover.
“Lucinda, darling! You look fabulous, although I’m not sure why you’re dressed as your Great-Aunt Belinda?” Gwendoline said, eying Lucy’s harshly straightened hair.
“I’m not. I’m meant to be Morticia Adams,” she said, waving the long black mesh sleeves. “I only had the old crates in the basement to find something, and this dress from Belinda’s chest was the only thing in black that didn’t need altering.”
She wasn’t good at using the sewing machine, and since she wasn’t really on speaking terms with her mum, she hadn’t wanted to ask for help. Any extra inches around the waist she had cinched in with a black corset from her great-grandmother, even if it was digging into her ribs and she felt like her boobs were pressed up under her chin.
“Sorry – it was the hair that threw me off, but they do say the character for the show was based on your great-aunt. The original, that is. Belinda had a thing for showbiz – all the lies and deceit. Loved it.” Gwendoline sipped her wine.
Lucy had never heard such a thing, but her great-aunt had lingered on the fringes of good and bad. Never having marriedor had kids, she’d been a free spirit. Lucy was jealous of her nomadic, glamourous lifestyle.
“I didn’t have time to get a black wig.” She didn’t want to use her magic, fire and hairspray never went well together.
“Regardless, you look beautiful – truly wicked,” Mum said, beaming. Removing the blanket from her lap, she stood and reached up to run her fingers through Lucy’s hair. The colour changed to raven black. “Now you’re perfect.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said, adding her black lipstick to her clutch. It was their first exchange in days. She swallowed her relief; she hated not talking to her mum, who had always been her best friend. “Are you sure neither of you want to pop by? I’m sure those visiting our humble town would love to meet such highly esteemed witches.”
“If we showed up, everyone would have to be on their best behaviour – and anyway, this is our time off.” Gwendoline clinked her glass against Wilhelmina’s.
“You’ve got a fun night ahead of you; I remember the years of trying to stop people spiking the pumpkin punch. I’ve got to the point where I want to spike it just to throw the little devils off,” Lucy’s mum added.
“Hopefully they’ll only be spiking the drinks instead of using magic as they please,” Lucy prayed. The opening night of the festival coincided with the end of potion exams for the senior school. Magless schools hold their exams at Christmas, but since Samhain was the magic world’s biggest festival, potions and spell exams finished in October so they would be able to enjoy the festival.
“Unfortunately, I doubt it. Alcohol and magic are not a good combination for those so young. Even if they’re seventeen, eighteen, it takes until they’re twenty-five for their elements to truly settle,” Wilhelmina said. “But since it’s the end ofthe seniors’ final exams, show them some leniency unless they endanger anyone.”
Lucy nodded.
“Surely you got up to some mischief when you finished your final exams?” Gwendoline teased her, though Wilhelmina nudged her friend.
“I didn’t go to the opening dance that year,” Lucy said quickly, not wanting to discuss it.
Gwendoline frowned, pouring herself another glass. “Why? I was sure Benedict asked you. Peter teased him mercilessly for weeks until he finally plucked up the courage!”
Lucy gripped her clutch bag, trying not to reveal her annoyance. “Benedict asked, but he only did it to embarrass me.” Her tone wasn’t as polite as it should have been. Even if they’d come a long way in a short time, it didn’t erase the past.
“To embarrass you?” Gwendoline gawked. “No. He wouldn’t have done such a thing.”
“He asked me when everyone was gathered to get their spell assignments. No one would ever believe a Matherson was asking out a Hawthorne and meant it.”
The mortification of that moment still stung. She had been unable to bring herself to go to the opening night in the end, with or without a date. Now, she wished she hadn’t let him get to her.
“There must’ve been some misunderstanding. Peter told him you were upset about not being asked out because of Wilhelmina being High Priestess.”
“That’s true – they were afraid I wouldn’t be any fun or would tattle on them for drinking or using magic.”
“I thought you just didn’t want to go because you were stressed and tired after your exams,” Wilhelmina said, taking her daughter’s hand.
“Benedict wouldn’t have lied to Peter when he said he wanted to ask you. Are you sure there wasn’t a mix-up?”
Lucy thought back. It wouldn’t be the first time they had misunderstood each other. The school theatre had been so crowded and loud when she’d seen him in the audience, during the monthly assembly. His smile made her suspect he was up to something. When she’d made it to her seat in front of him, he’d leaned forward and asked her about the festival opening out of the blue. His delivery had been so blunt, she’d immediately assumed he was mocking her. She wanted to go so badly that she’d almost accepted anyway, but before she could even think about her answer, his friends had started laughing, confirming it was a set-up.
