have a force the size of Josh Hennessey in her life, but he's made it very clear that it's not my choice. I'd love a chance to get those eyes of his in front of my lens. Most of the young people I like best aren't afraid to speak truth to power. That one isn't afraid to be power.
And he's Charlie Tosh's great-nephew. Anyone that grew up around that man isn't going to find Lizard's occasional prickles at all challenging. I find myself wanting to warn her, but I think I've done enough meddling for one day.
I don't know if she's remotely ready for what he brings to her life, but one barely legal boy in jeans just told me to stay the hell out of his way - and I think I might just listen. For now, at least.
Elsie has sent an invitation to her house for breakfast. Spaghetti, complete with Jamie-coached tomato sauce. I have no idea what's up, but I plan to be there at the crack of dawn, before anyone else smells food.
Melvin said to let you know that if your pendant was that easy for him to control, he'd have used his powers years ago. And that you are not the only WitchLight guide who has done questionable things in the name of love.
I will be more straightforward. The next time you go meet with that young man, I want an invitation, propriety be damned. By all accounts, he is disarming every watchtower guard Witch Central throws at him, and that's quite an impressive feat.
But for all our blustering, his role in her life is Lizard's to decide. I find myself thinking she might be more ready than we think to make a wise choice. Some of us needed a lot longer to grow up before we could contemplate the delightful chaos a partner adds to our life journeys, but carefully tucked under her tattoos, our Lizard is quite a smart cookie.
Yes, I know I'm way ahead of myself. Melvin is amused.
As for Elsie, I only want to know what treasures she offered up in exchange for Jamie's sauce secrets. I've been trying to worm them out of him by means fair and foul going on fifteen years now.
And now my Melvin is chuckling again. He says Jamie didn't do it for Elsie - he did it for his beautiful wife. Which, now that I think about it, is rather obvious. It seems she did well to fire our Elsie - but I'm sure her soul has been hurting, probably far more than anyone other than my husband truly understands. And Jamie would have given up far more than spaghetti sauce to fix that.
Enjoy whatever delightfulness comes in the morning.
Sleep well,
Vero
Elsie looked around the kitchen, well aware she should be feeling frantic. The place was a mess of tomato splatters and squished herbs, she'd slept for all of three hours, and it was entirely possible no one was coming.
Caro snorted as she marched in the back door, an enormous pot in her hands. "They're coming, my girl. Floods of them. I've brought you my biggest pasta pot - you're going to need it."
Elsie blinked. "I only invited a few people."
"Ha." Caro set the pot to filling and started wiping down counters. "A smell like that coming out of your house is invitation enough. Jennie and her husband are just down the block, and there are at least a dozen people behind them."
Now panic hit. "We don't have enough chairs for that many people!"
"Chairs?" Jamie ported into their kitchen, a huge plate of noodles in his hands and laughter in his eyes. "This is going to be a standing-room-only event. Nell's crew just landed in the back yard. We'll spread out some blankets back there and over in Caro's yard, too."
Lizard clomped into the kitchen holding her phone. "Lauren's coming - she's just picking up Thea. Apparently Bean can smell the sauce from inside her belly."
"No wonder," said Helga, strolling into the kitchen with a steaming loaf of bread in her hands. "You've made all of Berkeley smell good, my dear." She