“You’re going to have a great day. After all, it’s a kid’s birthday party. What could possibly go wrong?”
***
Here’s a very helpful piece of advice: If your therapist ever says “What could possibly go wrong?” like that, fire him. Fire him immediately.
And then send him a glitter bomb.
The biggest glitter bomb you can afford.
At first there were no indications that a disaster was looming over me. I spent a few minutes in my bathroom, talking myself up in the mirror. Then I slipped the apron Cass had brought me over my head and tied it in a bow behind my back. It was really pretty, with mint and gold stripes, the heart-shaped top portion edged in black lace and the bottom hem just barely hitting my thighs. Kind of short for an apron, honestly, and fancier than I would have gone with myself, but obviously Cass’s daughter knew a few things I didn’t about professional catering attire. Then I went downstairs to do one final check of the café.
Everything looked perfect. I’d kept decorations to a minimum in the cat area since even I can admit that cats are assholes bent on the destruction of all things beautiful and pink, but the café area was draped in streamers and paper flowers. Each table was held a crystal vase that contained six pale pink roses, some cheerful daisies, and bunches of fragrant greenery. I placed the cake and cookies on the front counter, my lovely vintage saucers and the fairy forks stacked beside the cake.
Even better, my mail carrier had slipped a slim package through my mail slot. Opening it, I discovered Bathsheba had come through. I held the brooch in my hands, wondering why it was Horst wanted something like this so badly he was breaking into pawn shops looking for one, then slipped it into the pocket of my pants.
Everything was working out perfectly.
Even the arrival of Quill didn’t raise any alarms for me. She swept in, her neck mercifully bare, which meant she’d left her weasel at home.
“We’re closed for an event today,” I told her.
“And hello to you, too, mortal.” She stood in the center of the café area, hands on her hips, and looked around. “I had a feeling this was the place to be today.”
I returned my attention to the cookies I was arranging on a platter. “Unless you’re a six-year-old, it probably isn’t.”
But I heard the sound of a chair being pulled out, and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw that she was seated, her elbows propped on the table, fingers interlaced, watching me as though I were the season finale ofBridgerton. “Quill, I really need for you to go,” I said.
She didn’t move. “Don’t you worry, mortal. I won’t cause any trouble.”
Well, that wasn’t as reassuring as I would have liked, but I had a list of things to do and “remove bad-willed fairy from café” wasn’t on there.
I would just have to deal with her later.
With a stern warning not to touch anything, I hurried back to the kitchen to get a large glass beverage dispenser, which I’d filled with pink lemonade. I also cut some strawberries to look like flowers, then added some mixed berries to the fruit platter and placed it close enough to the cookies that the kids—and most importantly, Julia—would see it.
Five stars: Who doesn’t love fresh fruit at a birthday party? I mean, the kids may not have actually eaten it, but at least it was offered.
By the time I had the food and lemonade all set up, it was just about time for Princess Palollipop to arrive. And sure enough, I heard a car door slam in the parking lot.
Did it worry me that Quill leaned forward in her seat, her frosty eyes glittering and her mouth slowly curving into what might have been the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her?
A little. But the sound of someone puking their guts out on the sidewalk outside the café worried me more.
I hurried to the door, pushing it open to find a woman bent at the waist, spewing...
Well, look, she was vomiting. I’m not going to describe it. You get the idea.
“Are you okay?” I asked, crouching down a little near the woman, my hands hovering around her as though I might be able to do something helpful with them.
She shook her head weakly, gave a little cough, and croaked, “I’m so sorry about your sidewalk.”
I did my best not to look at exactly what she was apologizing for. “Don’t worry about that. Can I get you some water?”
The woman straightened up, turning her face toward me. “I don’t think I can handle even water right now.”
My stomach quivered with nausea, and it had nothing to do with what was all over a portion of my sidewalk. While the woman’s face was pale with a decidedly green cast, there were two perfect pink circles of cream blush on her cheeks.
Just like Princess Palollipop.
