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“How did you get roped into waiting tables?” Levi asked.
“One of the servers got food poisoning and it turns out I’m very skilled at front of house!” Cole chirped happily. “Also it was an easy sell because Sawyer is bartending and I wanted him to see how hot I look in this tux. I look hot, right?”
He did a little half turn, and Levi laughed. “You do. Simply wander past the object of your affections looking great until he comes to you. Is that the plan?”
“I mean, I certainly can’t flirt with him,” Cole said, as if this were obvious.
“You flirt with everyone, Cole,” Levi pointed out. “You flirted with both my parents and the minister within the past twenty-four hours. You flirt whenever you’re breathing.”
“But I actuallylikethis man,” Cole explained patiently.
“I appreciate you interrupting my own wallowing about my love life with your absolutely inexplicable and self-manufactured drama, Nicholas,” Levi said, patting him on the back.
“Oh good, it worked! You looked mopey.” Cole grinned.
“Get out of here!” Levi said. “Go serve food! Or talk to Sawyer! You brat.”
“Oh no, I was serious. I absolutely cannot do that. Have you seen his mustache? It’s so dreamy.” Cole shook his head. “I’ve never liked a boy before. I’m fully unequipped to deal with it. But I will take another round of cake out. Have you had some of this cake? Mediocre compared to your meal. They should have gone with Rosenstein’s.”
Why were they friends? he wondered again as he watched Cole walk off.
His phone was still buzzing. What would he say, if he answered it? Whenever he thought about what to do about the future, how to make life work at Carrigan’s, he came up against the emotional brick wall of Cass. He didn’t want to stay because he didn’t want to be reminded of Cass. He wanted a show to prove to Cass that he was worthwhile.
Until he started actually putting his relationship with her to rest, he wasn’t going to be able to move forward. He’d have to go see her.
Tomorrow. After he cleaned up the kitchen and slept.
Levi stood outside the carriage house, having knocked, and waited while someone inside cursed Kringle for being underfoot on the stairs. It was drizzling, a cold, morose rain that made him miss Australia. He felt like he was starring in an emo music video against his will. He was starting to worry that his eyeliner would run when the door opened to Noelle in her pajamas, her hair sticking straight up in the air.
She scowled when she saw it was him. “You woke up Kringle,” she snapped. “We were having a snuggle.”
“Is Miri here?” He caught Kringle as he tried to escape into the woods to decimate the local blue jay population, scooping all thirty pounds of him to his chest. Kringle happily wrapped himself around Levi’s neck.
“She’s in the studio working, and she’ll lose her shit if you interrupt her.” Noelle waved him in. “But she hasn’t had a cup of coffee in an hour, so she’ll be in soon, lest her clock run down like Tik-Tok of Oz.”
He nodded. “Ah yes, I had somehow forgotten that she can only make art, or function, when caffeinated beyond the normal limits of human existence.”
“When I first met her,” Noelle told him, “she asked me to put espresso in her hot cocoa. It was cute but also deeply disturbing.”
“That’s Miri in a nutshell.” He finally remembered to look around him, at the newly renovated carriage house. “Holy shit, Noelle, this place looks incredible. You did a great job.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “I killed it.”
Over the fireplace, a huge painting hung. Levi had seen photos online of the painting Miriam had auctioned off at New Year’s as part of the girls’ plan to save Carrigan’s from bankruptcy, but he’d never seen a Mimi Roz in person. She’d been a brilliant painter under a pen name in her early twenties, before abandoning it and remaking herself as an artist of upcycled antiques. Of the Carrigan’s crew, only Cass had known about both her paintings and the reason why she’d stopped.
This painting, the one Miriam had chosen to keep for herself and give pride of place on her mantel, was terrifying and magnificent. It was of Baba Yaga. She reminded him of Cass a little, and also of Hannah. An untamed forest witch of immeasurable power who drew people to her, apologizing for nothing.
He found his hand over his heart and realized he’d gasped out loud.
Behind him, Noelle laughed. She came up beside him and handed him a cup of coffee. “You’ve met our house witch, I see. What do you think of her?”
“She’s my favorite thing I’ve ever seen, probably.”
“You should see the one she painted for me, of La Llorona. It used to be down here, but it felt too personal for all the Bloomers to see when they came on tours, so I moved it up to our bedroom.” She motioned at the loft.
“Oh, that’s new,” he said. “That staircase is beautiful.”
“I built it myself,” Noelle told him. He knew she had; Miriam had gushed about it.
