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"All systems go," he declared, dropping his toolkit with an air of accomplishment. "You'll be able to monitor every nook and cranny—except perhaps the restroom, for decency's sake. You want me to show you how to check the app on your phone?”
“I absolutely would,” she said, smiling brightly. It was a wonder how a good idea like a ball could put her in such a great mood. “And while you're here, could you humor me and check the fuse box? It’s not a huge deal, but the lights flicker every now and then. And this morning, my smart speaker was crossing signals with the international space station.”
“Hmmm.” Kyle looked up in thought as he rubbed his chin. “We replaced everything in the remodel. All new wiring, fuse box, light fixtures… which room is giving you trouble?”
“All of them.”
“Okay, I’ll take a look. We might have missed a connection.” He shook his head, even as he walked away to wherever he needed to go to check on the electricity.
Then, as if the cosmos sensed an absence of lively company, in walked Astrid, a whirlwind of vivacity and curiosity.
“Hello, darling. I wanted to check up on how you’re settling in and to give you some good news.”
Astrid gave Willow two air kisses and looked around. “I love what you did with the place.”
"Charming, isn't it?" Willow beamed, basking in Astrid's delighted observation. “I wanted to restore the original charm with some chic new accents. The chandelier looks old fashioned but it’s new, and we used the same aesthetic of the bar for low bookshelves.”
"Darling, you've done wonders," Astrid enthused. “Now, do you want to hear the good news? Of course you do. I pulled some strings with the powers that be. You know it pays to be universally liked in a small town like this.”
Smiling smugly, she produced a stack of papers from seemingly out of nowhere. Was that tiny purse of hers like a Mary Poppins bag?
“Anyway, I've managed to resurrect the ancient liquor license through some, shall we say, persuasive dealings," Astrid revealed with a flourish, punctuating the statement with the suave extraction of a pen seemingly tailored for divine writing.
Willow, still on cloud nine from thinking about the ball she wanted to throw, simply blinked and grinned.
“I must say,” said Willow, “I’m impressed. I was under the impression it would take months to get a license.”
“Time is a mere trinket in the hands of the resourceful," Astrid declared, flicking her perfectly polished fingers in the air. “There are loopholes for everything, dearie. Sign here.”
She tapped her nail on the contract marked with arrow stickers, and Willow, still caught in the undertow of her own tangled thoughts, signed the papers with all the enthusiasm of a squirrel discovering a hidden stash of acorns.
“Astounding,” Willow marveled, even as her hand swooshed across the paper. “Months of bureaucratic muddling averted in a single flourish. I love this pen, by the way.”
“Writes like a charm, doesn’t it?” Astrid scooped up the papers and plucked the pen from Willow’s fingers, not waiting for the ink to dry from the final signature. “Well, that’s that. "Now, my dear, do you have your offerings in order for the grand opening?"
“Well, I probably should order more booze, now that I can sell it, thanks to you. I had this vision of pairing drinks with books, so whenever a customer picks something off the shelves, I’d suggest a cocktail to go with the theme.”
“Oh that is a marvelous idea,” said Astrid. “I love a good literary libation.”
“Exactly. Like for instance, The Great Gatsby deserves to be matched with a Gin Rickey.”
“Naturally.”
“Whiskey daiquiri inspired by Hemmingway,” Willow continued, pulling a glass from under the bar. “And I like to call this one Tequila Mockingbird. Hmmm.”
“What is it, dear?” Astrid questioned, noting the look of confusion on Willow’s face.
Willow scratched her head. “The tequila. I had it right here.”
“You mean the bottle on the shelf behind you?”
Willow turned around, and sure enough, the bottle of tequila sat nicely on the shelf, the label lined up perfectly next to the other bottles—each of them in methodical order. Willow couldn’t remember organizing them that way—especially considering she wasn’t expecting to sell any alcohol for a few months yet. But she was tired from all the work she was doing. Work, not aided by magic in any way shape or form. So she must have forgotten what she’d already done.
“Yes. Silly me,” she said, taking the bottle down. “Anyway, it’s like a Bloody Mary with tequila instead of vodka. Would you like to try? It’s basically a breakfast drink.”
“Not on a Thursday. But I’ll take a rain check on that. By the way, not to pry or anything, but have you hired help?”
Willow pulled a face. “I thought I’d take out an ad today.”
