Chapter One
When I tell people that I own and operate a cat café, the very first thing they usually say to me is, “Wow, that sounds amazing! I can’t believe you can make a living doing that.”
And the truth is...you can’t.
Or maybe some people can. Maybe there are cat café owners out there wearing socks without holes in the heels and driving cars where you don’t need to blast the heat in the summer because your coolant is leaking and if you don’t pull the heat from the engine, the whole thing will overheat.
That is not me. It turns out I am as good at running a business as I am at magic, or making sound decisions, or all of the other things I am not good at.
This was particularly frustrating because I have such a range of experience working for successful businesses. Back home, I was a receptionist at a popular dentist. I made pizzas at a pizza place that was always packed. I even worked at a witchy little antique shop that should never have worked but somehow just did.
The big problem was that I was peddling baked goods, which, it turns out, are practically time bombs. Baked goods start going stale the moment they come out of the oven. I know, I know—I’m being dramatic. Obviously, my cupcakes are moist and delicious well after they’re baked. But the timer has started. No one wants old cupcakes.
I was able to extend the moistness and deliciousness through a little magic here and there, but it backfired almost as much as it worked.
Also, while my reviews were mostly great, I’d gotten my first negative review recently, and since I didn’t have a ton of reviews,it brought down the average quite a bit. Of course, this particular negative review didn’t help.
One star: A cat farted in my face.
Yes, that happened. I wished the reviewer had mentioned that the café section is separated from the cat section. It wasn’t like Jojo, the café’s gassiest resident, had released a malodorous cloud onto a cupcake or anything like that.
But I wasn’t thinking about bad reviews or errant spells that left pastel streaks in my hair. I was thinking about a necklace. A small silver necklace shaped like half a heart.
I stood in the bathroom of my apartment, fumbling with the clasp. I finally got it on, then stared at myself in the mirror. I was supposed to wear the necklace, right? Horst had given it to me, and I wanted to wear it. But maybe he’d meant it as a joke? It was exactly the kind of joke he’d make—“Hey, Glory O’Bryan. I got you this BFF necklace. LOL.”
What if he saw me wearing it and realized I was more into him than he was into me? Or what if it wasn’t just a joke and I didn’t wear it and he assumed I wasn’t into him and—
My phone rang out in my living room. Maybe it would be Horst and he would be like, “Hey, just a heads up. I’m going to be wearing my BFF necklace today, and I really hope you’re wearing yours,” and then I would know what I was supposed to do.
But when I hurried out to the living room, I saw it wasn’t Horst. It was a Facetime call from Roger, my therapist back in West Virginia.
Slipping the little heart necklace under my shirt, I hit the answer button. “Hey, Roger.”
“Good morning, Glory. Today’s the big day, isn’t it?”
“I mean, it’s a somewhat significant day.” That was a lie. It was a huge day. Like maybe the most important day in the history of my business since I opened it.
“That’s a healthy way to look at it.” Roger squinted at the screen. “Your hair looks...colorful.”
I really, really hated it that Roger could tell how I was handling things just by looking at how much of my hair I’d accidentally turned unicorn-colored. I tried to smile like it was no big deal, but it felt stiff and unnatural. “A couple minor mishaps.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, hoping that reduced how obvious my magical misfires were. “Roger, when will I be done with therapy?”
He sat back in his chair. “When I say you are.”
“Considering I pay you, that feels like a conflict of interest.”
“Keeping my patients captive is my strategy for business success,” he said, nose twitching ever so slightly. “Just like yours is going to be birthday parties.”
I blew out a breath. That was my big idea—hosting birthday parties. Gallows Bay already had the Enchanted Forest, the quirky fairy tale-themed park on the outskirts of town, and theWild Rose, the floating museum dedicated to the famed pirate hunter Ichabod Frowd, the man who defeated the Butcher of the Carolinas.
So I had some competition for coolest birthday party spot. But while I might not have castles or cannons, I did have kittens and cupcakes.
And if I could just land one birthday party booking, everyone in town would see how much fun a party at Purrates Café could be.
Which was why I really, really needed my meeting with the prospective party client to go well. And it would! I had baked samples of some of my most popular cake flavors, and I had all kinds of ideas for themes, and just as long as nothing went wrong, I was going to book my first birthday party.
