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This was a mistake. As she turns to walk away again I know I got my answer. Without wasting another minute in the cafe, I turn and leave. Happy to be done with the stupidity.
10
GABRIELLA
Isigh while walking down the dusty aisles of the town’s used bookstore. I’m certainly enjoying myself, but I feel this would be much more fun with a friend to chat with about the strangely old and crumbling texts on the shelves.
This would be much more fun with Chet, I think to myself. But I just had to go and ruin that somehow. I’ve never really been able to understand men even at their most ‘normal’. How am I supposed to read the mind of a werewolf?
I pause for a moment and consider there might actually be someone in this town who could do just that.
I brush off that little feeling of dread and continue down the non-fiction aisle until I find what I’m looking for. The cookbook section is small, and there’s titles like ‘100 Practical Potions for Homemaking’ in the mix, but at least I’ve found something. I slip out a book about using magic to perfect simple pie recipes.
Unlike Veronica, I can’t use magic as a shortcut for work. But there are some cute looking recipes in here that could easily be improved upon with a little modern culinary skill. The price on the cover is a bargain, I could pay for it with the coins in my purse, and decide I can spend the evening trying out all the beautiful recipes inside. Alone. I try not to let it get me down, but it would certainly be a lot more fun baking up a storm with a friend or two.
“Find anything good, Dearie?”
I startle from my melancholy thoughts and look down where Mrs. Murphy is looking through the bottom shelf. I idly wonder how I could have ever mistaken her or her husband for anything but gnomes. She’s so small and cute, with rosy cheeks, like something out of a fantasy cartoon.
“Just some new baking recipes,” I reply. “Or, new to me. What are you looking for?”
“Oh, just anything about gardening. The crows are making a mess of my vegetables. That scarecrow of ours can be so lazy, you know?”
I really don’t, but I nod anyway. I notice something on the top shelf. It’s a book about pest management in horticulture. The cover has an illustration of a large bird being electrocuted. A bit violent for my tastes, but it seems like what Mrs. Murphy needs, so I ask her.
“That’s perfect!” she cries with joy. “Aren’t you just so helpful.” I hand her the book which is almost bigger than she is. Somehow, she manages to walk it to the counter without any issue.
“You know, Gabriella, the girls and I have been talking about finding a new place to hold our weekly knitting group.” I perk up at that. Does she want to use my cafe? The thought of having a guaranteed customer group once a week sounds amazing.
“Lilah has been so kind as to let us use her bakery!”
I sink but try not to let it show. Mrs. Murphy is sweet, but she takes any hint of a bad mood as an invitation to start smothering you. She means well, but the road to allergy attack hell is paved with well-intended peanut butter cookies.
“Her dining room has much more space than my living room. Which means we can invite more people to join us. Would you care to, Dearie?”
I hesitate. Knitting? Me? I’m not even thirty years old yet! Isn’t that something little old ladies like Mrs. Murphy do? But she seems so excited about inviting me, and I have to admit I’m trying very hard to fit myself into this community. Maybe, if they get to know me better too, they’ll warm up to the changes I’ve made to the cafe.
Plus, some tea and yarn crafting might be exactly what I need to get my mind off of Chet. In my bid to give him space, he's been taking up plenty of it in my mind. “I’ll be there,” I say with a smile. Mrs. Murphy looks delighted as she pays for her gardening book. She practically skips out of the store.
Thursday evening comes around. After closing up the cafe for the evening with another underwhelming day of sales, I grab the supplies I picked up yesterday and head over to Lilah’s bakery. I’m the last one to show, so I order a hot mug of mint tea and get right to work.
“Hey Gabriella? Have you ever, uh, actually knitted anything before?” Veronica asks. I’m a little surprised that she’s here, considering she’s even younger than me. But I notice her black shawl and elbow length gloves are all hand knit. This could certainly be a useful hobby for someone on a tight budget.
“No,” I reply awkwardly. I hadn’t even started yet, how could she tell?
“It’s just, those are knitting needles, and this is a crochet pattern.” She gestures at the printout of a scarf pattern I brought.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Murphy giggles. She fumbles around in her bag and pulls out a thin book promising knitting patterns for beginners. Another older woman wearing a large hat shows me how to cast the yarn onto the needle, and it isn’t long before I’m going through the motion with ease.
After some initial chatting and having to fix a dropped stitch, I noticed something odd. No one is using magic. They’re all knitting by hand. “Magic is certainly useful, but sometimes it’s just nice to do something with your own two hands,” Mrs. Murphy muses. I have to agree.
“Plus, I actually am using magic right now,” Veronica says. “I’m enchanting the stitches to protect the wearer from evil spirits. I do that with all my knitting.”
“Oh. Are evil spirits a common problem?” I ask.
Veronica shakes her head. “Not since I took up knitting.”
“Hey ladies,” Lilah says cheerfully while walking to our booth with a baking tray in hand. She sets it down at the edge of our table and offers each of us a sample of what she’s been baking. They’re croissants, and they look incredible. Each one has a different color drizzle on top. I reach out for the red one, and Lilah laughs. “Didn’t realize you were into blood.” Oh, of course it’s a blood flavored croissant!
