“Sugar, if you don’t move this honking bag of flour, one of us is going to trip and break our neck.” With Gigi, someone was always going to break something, get a “crick,” or “ruin their lovely hands.”
“Maybe some necks deserve to be broken, Gigi,” Sadie answered sweetly, hoisting the twenty-five-pound bag of flour and settling it against her hip.
“Stop that or I’ll pop you one. I know when you’re talking about Seth. You get that mean little gleam in your eye.”
Before Sadie could answer, she tripped on the rubber mat that lined the floor and watched, as though in slow motion, as the flour cascaded against the ground and billowed into a cloud of white.
A mess in the kitchen was bad omen number five.
“You little pissant!” Gigi laughed with her deep smoker’s rumble. Gigi—a nickname that made her grandmother sound much more French and much less feisty than she actually was—shook her head. Her short hair was a cotton-candy puff, perfectly curled as always and a peculiar shade just between rust and copper.
“I know, I know. ‘Disaster follows me around like stupidity follows a drunk,’” Sadie quoted, gritting her teeth as she secured the top of the flour.
“Says who?” Gigi demanded, rounding on Sadie with a hand on her hip and a look that threatened trouble.
Sadie shrugged.
“That brother of yours isn’t too old to have his mouth washed out with soap.” Gigi sighed.
“But he’d have to actually be here in order for you to do that.” Her voice went flat as oat cakes as she absentmindedly smoothed her apron.
“Don’t go down that road, sugar,” Gigi said as Sadie’s eyes slid into the past. “Whoever digs a pit’ll fall right into it. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m sure he’d say differently,” Sadie said with pursed lips.
“That boy has got his own demons to fight,” Gigi said. “And he will. Now, I’ll get this cleaned up before we open while you go wipe that mess off yourself.”
At the bathroom sink, Sadie rinsed her mouth and tried to finger-comb the flour out of her long auburn hair. She hoped for the best, refusing to glance in the mirror, as that was only to be done at dawn, midday, or dusk, for fear of what else might appear in the reflection. It was one of the many oddities that were as sure as sunshine in the Revelare family, like burying found pennies in the garden at midnight, always wearing green in some form or another, and never whistling indoors. These were truths that Gigi had taught Sadie from the cradle.
The bell tinkled merrily as Sadie opened the front door and stood there a moment, letting the last of the morning chill clear her mind. She could smell waffle cones from the ice-cream parlor a few stores down on the right, and bacon wafting across the street from the diner. The half wine barrel full of marigolds on the sidewalk swayed in a sleepy morning hello. The streetlamps winked out, one in particular blinking a few times, as though sending her Morse code. Her shoulders loosened. Even without magic, this would still be the most perfect place on earth to her.
Just as she flipped the sign to “Open,” Bill Johnson stood at the threshold, his kind face lined and worn with a smile that fell into place like it was meant to be there. He was a little younger than Gigi and held a special place in Sadie’s heart for the simple fact that he was secretly in love with her grandmother. His flannel shirt, fresh and clean as always, hung loosely on his lanky frame. His shaggy, grayed hair gleamed smooth in the morning light but failed to hide his large ears that stuck out like jug handles.
“Morning, Sadie,” he said, ducking his head.
“Good morning, Bill. What’ll it be for you this morning?” Sadie asked warmly, walking behind the counter while making sure her apron was tied securely in place.
“What’s Gigi Marie recommend?” he asked, staring behind the counter, as though his eyes could drill a hole through to the kitchen.
“She recommends you mind your own taste buds, you big galoot,” Gigi called from the back.
“Surprise me, then,” he said with an indulgent smile.
Sadie, her back straight and shoulders squared, poured his coffee: black with two sugars, because that part of his order never changed. Then she cut him a slice of peach mascarpone pie and put it in a to-go container.
“And what does this do?”
“If anything has been ailing you, you’ll feel right as rain today.” Sadie grinned. “And it might just give you a bit of extra energy, to boot.”