contemplating the possibilities. "I'm not sure. Do you have any ideas?" She took a deep breath and jumped straight into the deep end. "Something a little frivolous, maybe."
Helga chortled from a nearby chair, eyes shining with an approval that bewildered Elsie. "How much time do you have?"
The old Elsie Giannotto would have had a very precise answer to that question. The new Elsie had a sleeping baby in her arms and a day with no particular agenda. Even in her wrung-out-dishrag state, it was a surprisingly nice feeling.
Lauren sat down at her desk for the first time in five days and gaped at her inbox. How could so many people want her attention when practically every witch in Berkeley was sick with the flu?
She started clicking into random emails and figured out the answer soon enough. Bored, cranky witches all seemed to have developed a taste for new surroundings. She had more people wanting new homes than they usually handled in three months.
Good thing she had an assistant now, and hopefully one who could manage to be reliable more often than not. Lauren opened another email and snorted. If Lizard wanted to be a realtor, she was going to get plenty of practice.
Then she opened the email from Jamie and laughed. Apparently Berkeley College had awarded Lizard a scholarship, based on her stellar SAT scores. He claimed to have had nothing to do with it and hoped she might pass on the message. Smart witch.
She hit reply. No way. You tell her. Lizard sucked at accepting accolades of any kind, and she might withhold biscuits from the messenger or something. Since biscuits were now a major food group, right up there with chocolate and ice cream, Lauren wasn't taking that risk.
If the real estate thing didn't work out, her assistant could easily go into business as a Witch Central caterer. Not that Lauren planned to mention it, given that their client list had just doubled.
She looked up as the bell hanging on the front door tinkled. If that was another client, she was going to barricade herself in the back office and hide. She'd been overly optimistic - the fact that she could stand up apparently wasn't a sign she was ready for actual work.
Nat came around the corner, looking about as steady as Lauren felt. "Hey. Can I hang out here for a bit? If Jamie finds me, he'll make me go back to bed."
Lauren had some sympathy for him, trying to take good care of his pregnant wife, but friendship had clear rules. "Okay, but only if you sit down. I'll go get us some tea."
"No, please." Nat sounded almost whiny, which was an earth-shattering state of the universe. "No more tea. I'm drowning in tea. I need something real."
"Define real." Since the contents of her kitchen extended to tea and week-old cookies, Lauren hoped whatever Nat craved existed on speed dial - providing for weird pregnancy cravings was also on the friendship-rules list.
Nat's eyes brightened. "Linguine. Can we call Romano's?"
God, yes. "One helping, or two?"
"Three." Nat laughed as Lauren's eyes widened. "Two for me, and one to bribe Jamie when he finds us."
Yeah, he'd probably go for that. Lauren mentally heaped blessings on the head of whoever invented takeout and made the call. If anything could make her feel like a somewhat-normal person again, it would be Romano's linguine. She set down her phone and leaned back, telling her stomach to be quiet. Takeout was a miracle, but not an instant one, even from right across the street. "How'd you escape?"
"He went to air out the studio. We're opening back up tomorrow."
"Are you ready for that?"
Nat shrugged. "It's time. Students have been calling. I can take it really easy for the first few classes."
Lauren grinned. "Need their yoga fix, do they?"
"Maybe." Nat's smile made Lauren nervous. "Hip openers are excellent after illness."
Oh, no. She wasn't falling for that. "In your world, hip openers are the cure for all evils. They're kind of like that nasty green drink Ginia sent all of us. I need to prepare myself before I can actually cope with anything that good for me."
"There's a cute new guy in the front row."
Lauren glared. "Don't you dare join the matchmaking crew of Witch Central. They don't need any help." She'd been ducking eligible men for months. Way too late, she noticed the laughter in Nat's eyes. "Jeebers. I should have twigged to that one. No self-respecting guy takes hip-openers class."
Nat raised an eyebrow. "Jamie