Page 44 of Of Potions and Honey
“Is the pump still causing issues?” Mira asked. Cassia turned around, surprise on her face.
“Oh, hey Mira.” She nodded darkly. “The pump and everything else. We’re lucky if we don’t lose half the harvest this year.”
“I’m sorry to hear.” Once again, Mira wasn’t sure if she should ask. Or more to the point, what she should ask. This didn’t seem like a pump problem anymore. “If there’s anything you think might help… I could check the recipe books, maybe.”
Cassia chuckled. “Appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think we can alchemy our way out of this.” Then, as if a switch flipped, a wide beam appeared on her face. “You know what would make my day though?” She sidled a little closer. “You know that Talent Night is coming up again…”
Suddenly frozen in place, Mira stared at her. “Yes? I, uh-”
“You’re free, right?” Cassia waggled her bushy eyebrows. “You can’t be busyeverytime.”
“That sounds like a good opportunity for a break,” Harper agreed, and Mira swore she could see the smirk hiding underneath that pleasant smile. “You’ve been working so hard.”
They had her cornered, and they knew it. She’d promised she’d attend – some time. Seemed like that time had now come. Rats.
“I can probably make it,” she said slowly. “I’m not sure though what I would do?”
“You write stuff, don’t you?” The beam was still there, still wide, still mildly threatening. “You could read a poem, I’m sure people would love that!”
A poem. “I’m more of as story writer.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine!” Cassia slapped Mira’s shoulder so hard her knees almost buckled. “It’ll be a fun challenge!”
Well. She had promised, and saying no now just seemed… mean.
“All right then.” Mira cleared her throat. “A poem. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
For the rest of the week, Mira successfully ignored the impending doom of Talent Night. Perhaps she played around with a few lines here and there. Wrote down a couple of notes about themes and imagery.
Which was a little less than ideal, because come Thursday, when she still had no poem ready to go, she sat down with said notes and a realisation.
“I’m going to write a damn love poem, aren’t I?”
Blooming rose of spring.
A caress on the breeze, gentle like your laughter.
Your arms a wall to keep out the night.
Surely, she could make that sound innocent. Perhaps simply a few verses about the beauty of summer. No need to mention the flowers in the garden, and the woman tending those flowers, and said woman’s nosy cat…
Head in her hands, Mira stared at the collection on her kitchen table. Oh, she had aproblem. She blinked, looking out the window and across the street, where Marigold was perched atop a fence post, meowing. Just then, Yoni came into view, carrying a basket out of which the tell-tale white and red wrapping paper of one of Matteo’s pastries was peeking. She stopped by the fence, affectionately scratching Marigold behind the ears. The cat meowed again and flicked her tail. Yoni said something,glancing over her shoulder. In a flash of panic, Mira ducked low, though Yoni probably couldn’t see her. That would just be creepy, staring at her from the window.
Mira waited, so tense that her shoulders were beginning to hurt when she finally peeked outside again. Woman and cat were nowhere to be seen. Mira exhaled in relief. Briefly, anyway, until the reality of the situation caught up with her again.
Yup. Definitely a problem.
Talent Night was somewhat of a misnomer. It began in the early evening on Saturday, just after the dinner crowd had finished up. Mira had arrived early enough to find Matteo clearing a space at the end of the room and putting up a tiny makeshift stage in the form of several large bricks and a few sturdy planks laid across them. Emilia came out the back, carrying a microphone, a small, gleaming sphere holding the amplification spell surrounded by a brass cone. It looked a little older than the ones Mira had seen at the bars in Willow Harbour, but she had no doubt that it would carry her poem into every last corner of the inn. She’d almost turned tail and run when Emilia spotted her.
“Mira! So glad you could make it!” A mischievous grin. “Cassia is so happy to finally see you here. Why don’t you go and find a table, we’ll be full pretty soon. I’ll put you on the list for the stage, should be shortly after the break.”
And so Mira once again found that she had no choice. At least she had her pick of seats, and chose one in a corner, where she would be as invisible as possible after embarrassing herself on stage. The folded paper in her pocket crinkled, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. What was she even thinking?
“Mira! You’re really here!”
Cassia swept past the couple that taught the students at the town hall and helped herself to a chair before Mira could even reply.
“I thought you might skip town again!”
