“I’m sorry I didn’t help with the potion,” I said quietly.
She gave a watery smile. “It’s not your fault. I’m just such a mess lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You know me. My life is constantly a mess. We can be messy together.”
Her mocha brown eyes widened. “How areyoua mess?”
“I’m a mess when it comes to interacting with people.”
Kitty laughed. “People are just hard, period. But you’re amazing with books, organization, information-gathering, and analysis.”
Yes, that all made sense. But unfortunately, that was only half my life. “Why don’t people fit neatly in boxes? They’re so illogical and unpredictable.” There was no way to understand people’s motivations when they put on a mask and kept so much locked inside.
Kitty’s smile turned soft. “You’re right. We’ll be messy together.” She straightened and brushed at her eyes one last time. “Okay, I’m going to reapply my mascara and then it’s no more crying.”
After depositing my book in my bedroom, I headed downstairs and came into our main living area. The walls were painted a gentle beige. Two large sofas sat along the windows, with a thick, handwoven quilt draped across the arm of the one on the left. Lining the wooden coffee table were miniature pumpkins and cinnamon candles, and above the fireplace hung a wreath made of leaves and acorns and little witch’s hats with the sayingAutumn Leaves and Witches Please.
The kitchen lay beyond a swinging door opposite the stairs. We had a dial on the wall that flipped between red and blue. If the dial pointed to the red, we were in our home kitchen. If it flipped to blue, it became the kitchen for our bakery, Cupid’s Confections, where we sold both potions and regular baked goods. Right now, it pointed to the red.
Mom’s voice came from the small bedroom just off the living room. A large bed with a comforter and a knitted throw blanket made of orange and burgundy yarn kept Dad warm. He used to be upstairs, but as he’d gotten worse, Mom moved him onto the main floor so that he didn’t have to traverse the stairs. Someone—probably Jane—had decorated his room for the season with strings of get-well-soon cards. Expertly crafted hanging paper ghosts and bats intermingled with the well wishes.
“You must take your medicine!” Mom said to Dad, hands on her hips. “You simply cannot refuse it. You are so stubborn, it’s driving me mad. How will we have any peace if you’re not well?”
Dad gave a wan smile.“I’m sure peace will find us, even in my current state. As for the medicine, it’s nothing buta nuisance. I’ve tried ten different ones with no effect. I am content to lie here in my own company, if you don't mind.”
“You cannot possibly be content. Think of the girls. Think of all the things you must still do!”
“You worry too much, my dear. Perhaps it is you who should lie down and rest. I assure you, I am quite capable of managing my own sickness.” Dad’s mouth twisted with amusement despite the tired look in his eyes and the gauntness of his face.
Mom held his hand and leaned over, kissing him on the forehead. Turning, she stepped from the room, muttering to herself. “I suppose if you won’t listen, I’ll have to call for the doctor again…”
Kitty came downstairs, rejoining us, her makeup freshly reapplied and her favorite yellow headband in her brown hair that curled about her shoulders.
With an aggravated sigh loud enough for Dad to hear, Mom marched over to the back door, ripping her coat off the stand. “Let’s head out.”
Kitty and I also grabbed our coats and followed her into the crisp fall morning. The trees were afire with oranges,reds, and golds. Carved pumpkins, ornaments of black cats, and outlines of witches dotted people’s yards and doorsteps. A sharp breeze whipped the end of Kitty’s scarf about, and I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets.
The church wasn’t far from our house, so we walked. The leaves crinkled deliciously under our feet with each satisfying step. Neighbors passed by and waved, mostly Unmarked—or non-magical people—but some Marked as well. Mom’s anxious mood dissolved as we interacted with more people. I stayed tucked between her and Kitty, only having to throw out an occasional nod if someone called me out specifically. I could live to be a hundred and I still didn’t think I’d enjoy small talk or gossip the way our mother did.
My sister breathed in deeply, adjusting her scarf, which had pictures of tiny cauldrons knitted into it. “I love the fall. Isn’t it so lovely?”
“It is.” A small flower of relief bloomed in my chest. Kitty was regaining her cheery attitude.
“Oh, I do hope Jane is coming today. Perhaps escorted by a certain someone,” Mom said to us.
As if on cue, a ray of perfection with golden hair and a sweet smile revealed herself, emerging around the corner and walking toward us from the direction of the church.
“Jane!” Mom lifted her hand as if she were a best friend she hadn’t seen in months instead of just yesterday. “Jane! Over here!”
“Hello, everyone.” Jane approached in a stylish black blouse and a beautiful dark blue skirt with ebony tights and classy heels. After spending so much time at Netherfield recuperating from an injury, we were all glad to see her about and healthy these past couple of weeks.
“My sweet! How has your day been?” Mom asked, looking around. “Where is Charles Bingley? Didn’t he drive you here?” She craned her neck as if there were crowds of people along the sparsely populated street and she might spot him.
“I drove myself,” Jane said.
Mom’s shoulders fell, a pout forming on her lips. “And I see Lizzy couldn’t bother to come today, either.”
“Lizzy, I believe, got here before me. She’s already inside the church.”
