the news about the divorce better than I’d expected. Perhaps she’d known for a long time that her father and I weren’t madly in love, but rather in a perpetual state of barely tolerating each other. She replied that all was well at school. She hoped I’d have a good time and added that I deserved it.
Two minutes into the email project I was forced to confront the fact that my life back in the U.S. was incredibly, well, mundane. I mean, ‘how you gonna keep ‘em down on the farm after they’ve seen an elf, a pixie, and a – shudder – far-too-handsome vampire, among others?
Every email I scanned seemed either too lackluster to warrant response or something was something unpleasant, such as the notice from my new attorney that divorce papers had been filed and Cole had been served. It was news to me that I was the originating party, but good for me. I was divorcing his ass. Not the other way around. Lochlan had said it was being handled and I had to hand it to the elf. He knew how to get stuff done, competent to a fault as my grandmother would have said.
Did that mean that I was seriously considering abandoning everything familiar to begin a new life judging non-humans? Surprisingly, the answer was yes.
What I lacked in confidence about whether or not I was up to the task was made up for by others who were convinced that I was the perfect new appointee. Who wouldn’t be flattered?
Even the day job at the shop, which would be my shop, appealed to my first love, art history. I’d never worked in retail but talking to people about treasures didn’t sound half bad. Looking around, I realized there weren’t any curious goods in the house. Nothing that I would guess had been for sale in the shop.
I’d been staring at the tulip tree while these thoughts circulated in my head and made a mental note to ask Maggie how often the tree changed form. I glanced back down at the email inbox, noted the time, and shut the laptop. It was nine o’clock local time.
When I asked myself what I wanted to do next with my “vacation”, the answer was clear. I found myself eager to get dressed, go to the shop, and have Maggie do the deeper dive tour regarding how things run.
At ten I stood in my kitchen trying to decide whether to go through the interior door or walk around to the Hallows entrance. At length I chose my front door. Using the ‘owner’s passage’, as I thought of it, would seem like a thing to do if I’d gone all in and formally committed.
Opening my front door meant that I was staring at ‘my’ garage door across the lane. After locking up, I took two steps toward the shop before turning around and heading back to the garage. When the door completed its lift, I spoke to the car. “You okay, Romeo?”
The response was muffled, coming from inside the car, but audible. “Excellent, madam. And yourself?”
I wasn’t going to argue with the car if he really felt more comfortable calling me madam. “Very well. Perhaps we’ll go out later.”
“Ever at your service.”
That was nice to know.
After reclosing and locking the garage door I replayed the scene in my head and considered that I might be on the road to a touch of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
There were perhaps a dozen people in sight, talking on the sidewalk, or on errands. The shop was already open, so I shoved my key ring into my tote that held my purse, two protein bars, and the shoes.
The Hallows was open, but no one was in sight. “Good morning?”
I heard a thump in the back of the store after which Maggie appeared in seconds. “Good mornin’, boss.”
“Oh. No. Maggie. Please don’t call me that. Just Rita will do.”
“Suit yerself.”
She stood still and quiet, looking my way with expectation. Of what I wasn’t sure.
“I thought perhaps, if you have time, you could give me an overview of how the shop works. I mean, um, runs. Operates. Or whatever.”
“’Twould be an honor… Rita.”
As I started toward the back of the store, on impulse I asked, “Maggie. The Alfa Romeo in the garage?”
“Aye?”
“It’s not magical, is it?”
She drew back as if considering whether the Powers That Be had finally screwed up. “Magical, madam?”
“Never mind. It was a silly thought. It’s just hard to get used to a car that can