This was one of those times. A pair of sweet polka-dot numbers that had come into the store a couple of months ago had reminded me of the early 1960s fad of matching mother-daughter dresses. The garments inspired me to suggest the Welcome coven sponsor a simple brunch fund-raiser for the Haight Street shelter and I offered to hold it at Aunt Cora’s Closet. The idea soon took on a life of its own, ballooning into a gala event with such complicated logistics that sometimes I wondered if we were organizing a simple tea or invading a small nation. Planning the event had already taken up far too much of my time and energy, in no small part because—although I loved the Welcome coven—their nonhierarchical structure and commitment to consensus didn’t lend itself to quick decisions.
This was not our first meeting. The Magical Match Tea was only four days away, but we were still working out details, such as who was allowed to attend.
I sneezed.
“Blessed be!” rang out around the room, accompanied by a few “Gesundheits” and a single “Bless you,” which engendered an animated debate over the proper Wiccan response to a sneeze.
“Thank you,” I said, accepting Bronwyn’s offer of a tissue and sneaking a glance at my antique Tinker Bell wristwatch. I had a lot to do today, not the least of which was to prepare for the arrival of my grandmother and her coven of enchanting, effusive, but elderly witches. Ten days ago the thirteen women had climbed onto an old school bus and taken off on a road trip from Texas to California. Just this morning they had sent selfies to Bronwyn’s cell phone—I didn’t carry one, because I worried its energy would interfere with my magic—from an In-N-Out Burger drive-through in Salinas, California.
I wasn’t entirely sure how they had ended up in Salinas, which was not on the most direct route from Texas to San Francisco, but thought it best not to ask. Miss Agatha, the designated driver of the ancient school bus, didn’t especially like driving but had the best eyesight of the bunch. Miss Agatha also had no sense of direction, and so a two-day road trip from Texas stretched into ten days as the busload of elderly witches zigzagged its way through the Western states to San Francisco. Still, Salinas was not far away, and barring any unforeseen problems or yet another spontaneous side trip—at one point they had veered off to see the Cadillac Ranch on Route 66, and they had lingered two whole days in Vegas—they were due to arrive this afternoon, at the latest.
“Sorry?” I said when I realized Bronwyn had asked me a question.
“I saaaaaiiid,” Bronwyn teased with a smile, “did you ask Lucille about her progress on the matching outfits for those who couldn’t find something in the store that fits?”
The tinkle of the bell over the front door was a welcome interruption.
“I checked in with her yesterday morning,” my assistant, Maya, answered for me as she entered the shop, a to-go cup of steaming chai tea in her hand. “She hired a few extra helpers, so they’re on track, and still accepting some last-minute orders.”
Maya’s mother, Lucille, had recently moved her small production team into the space next door to Aunt Cora’s Closet. Lucille’s Loft Designs specialized in reproducing vintage fashions, which was great since many women today could not fit into the older, typically more petite clothing.
Chalk one up for good nutrition. Not to mention potato chips.
“Oh, good. I’ll be sure to touch base with your mother,” I said, jotting down a note to myself. “Thanks for checking.”
“Guess who else was there when I stopped in,” continued Maya. “Renee Baker, the cupcake lady.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“I looooove those cupcakes!” said Amy—er, Wind Spirit. She was short, plump, and sweet-faced, favored ruffled baby-doll dresses, and never let a coven meeting go by without making sure there were ample baked goods available. “Hey, would it be too late to ask Renee about contributing to the Magical Match Tea? I’ll bet she wouldn’t mind donating a dozen or two.”
“Honestly, I don’t think we need another thing to eat at this tea,” I asserted. It was hard to explain to one and all why I was wary of Renee Baker. But the truth was, the cupcake lady was dealing in more than sugar. “Or no one is going to fit into their dresses.”
No two ways about it: the Welcome coven had a sweet tooth. The circle of women was even now feasting on Wind Spirit’s chocolate macadamia “health biscuits,” which tasted a lot more like dessert than breakfast.
“Sorry to barge in on you,” said Maya. “I thought the planning meeting was supposed to be over by nine thirty.”
“Actually, it was,” I said, grateful for the excuse to wrap things up. “We need to bring this meeting to a close for today, I’m afraid. In fact, I think we’re just about set. We have a task force ready to move my inventory into Lucille’s shop on Saturday, the flyers are approved, and the refreshment committee has put together more food than we’ll know what to do with.”
“That reminds me,” ventured Starr. “Do we think we should find a larger venue for the brunch? No offense, Lily—your store is darling, but it may be too small. We’ve sold so many tickets already!”
I sneezed again, prompting several suggestions for natural cold remedies.
“Thanks, but it’s probably just allergies. I don’t get colds. So, back to the agenda . . .”
Wendy—my best ally in keeping the group on task—nodded. “You may be onto something, Starr. But it would be tough to find someplace at this juncture; the event’s coming up in a few days.”
“What about Aidan’s place?” suggested Bronwyn.
“Aidan . . . as in my Aidan?” My voice scaled upward.
“Yes! The wax museum would be perfect!”
Aidan Rhodes was an important person in the Bay Area’s witchy community. He and I had had a few skirmishes in the past, and I still owed him a magical
