Page 57 of Bargain with Fate
“I’m taking one for the team,” I continued. “If Bernice and Louise become friends, that makes all of our lives easier.” It had to be hard for Bernice, a werekat newcomer trying to fit in with a tight-knit group of witches. I gave her props for continuing to make an effort.
“You have an appointment in the morning,” I told Jinx, as I rinsed off the dish and placed it in the dishwasher.
Jinx turned toward me and hissed.
“You can blame Justine. She insisted you have your shots and whatever else domestic cats are supposed to have.”
Jinx responded by bolting from the kitchen like a streak of black lightning.
I rooted through my pantry to see whether I had any acceptable wine bottles for Meemaw. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I occasionally received a gift from a Neighbor after helping them with a security issue.
“Here we are.” I pulled a bottle from the shelf that had been given to me by a group of Neighbors I’d rescued from the sauna after a technical malfunction that could’ve fried them to a crisp. Chianti was both Italian and red. I couldn’t vouch for the price, but I doubted Meemaw would check. She wasn’tthatpetty.
I called goodbye to Jinx and drove my golf cart to Magnolia. I kept my eyes wide open for any sign of oni or shadows. I couldn’t grow complacent just because there’d been no recent reports.
“Hello, ladies,” I said, handing the bottle to Meemaw. “No Bernice?” I asked, my gaze flicking from witch to witch.
“She’s late,” Louise said, her nostrils flaring. Her black eye patch was decorated with a skull and crossbones. I hoped this wasn’t indicative of the night ahead of us.
The door opened again, and Bernice entered the condo right behind me, vibrating with nervous energy. “So sorry I’m late, everyone. I was at the clubhouse for the group mosaic project, and it ran over.”
“What’s the group mosaic project?” Margie asked.
“We’re each assigned a small square with specific materials. Mine is glass. When we’ve finished, we’ll join it together with other squares to form one large mosaic.”
“Like making a quilt,” Catherine said.
“Same idea, except ours is closer to an art installation.”
“Is there a theme?” Catherine asked.
“Dreams.” Bernice scanned the room. “Is there a place for me to sit?”
“I thought we’d get comfortable in the living room for a change,” Meemaw said, gesturing to the sofa. “We spend enough time at the dining table.”
“Those chairs bother my back anyway,” Joan said.
Bernice joined the others in the living room. There were no more seats, so I tossed a throw pillow on the floor and sat. As the youngest person in the room by decades, I had no reason to argue.
“How do you make a dream out of glass?” Louise asked.
“That’s part of the artistic challenge. The lady next to me has to use magazines, which seems a fair bit easier, but I didn’t want to complain.”
“My mother used to visit me in dreams,” Bernice said, “so I’m using that as the focal point for mine.”
“You’re a werekat,” Margie said. “How would your mother be able to do that?”
“We have fae blood somewhere in my maternal line. Nobody knows how far back, but my brother and I used one of those genetic testing kits to confirm it.”
“Your mother doesn’t visit you anymore?” Louise asked.
“No. I don’t know why. They weren’t frequent enough that I recognized the last time asthe last one.” Bernice threaded her fingers together and rested them on her lap. “At some point, I realized it had been years since I’d last seen her.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I miss her voice.”
Louise patted her hand. “I bet it means your mother is dancing the night away in the afterlife.”
Bernice sniffed. “She did love to dance, although sometimes it was mistaken for a seizure. Her style was her own.”
“The mosaic sounds like a lovely project,” Catherine said.
