Bewitching Bitters

by Annabel Chase

  “What’s wrong with half mermaid, half fairy?” Brett asked.

  “It isn’t how it’s supposed to look,” Kate said. “She looks disorganized.”

  “She’s not a bookshelf,” Brett shot back.

  Gavin entered the room with his backpack strapped to his shoulders. “You’re not going to wear that all day, are you?”

  Kate adjusted the pointy black hat on her head. “Wear what?”

  He rolled his eyes. “In that case, can Dad pick me up from soccer practice?”

  “Sorry. He’s working.”

  Brett beamed at her. “You look awesome. I wish middle school still had Halloween parties.”

  “Why? They’re lame,” Gavin said.

  “You’re dressing up for Matthew’s party,” Kate reminded her middle child.

  “I know, but it’s not the same.”

  Trick-or-treating seemed to have gone out of fashion in Lake Cloverleaf, with most families opting to host private parties. Gavin was the only one not dressing up this year, and only because he and his friends considered themselves too cool for Halloween.

  Ava marched downstairs in the fairy skirt made of pink tulle.

  “Much better,” Kate said.

  They loaded into the Land Rover and Kate deposited the boys at school first. There was no early morning language program today because of Halloween, so Kate went to the bank, where she got a red lollipop for Ava and a wad of cash for Gladys Nocella. She had just enough time before the party to follow through on her promise to loan Gladys money and call her lawyer.

  Gladys was thrilled to see Kate and Ava in their costumes. Together, they called the lawyer—who thankfully was an early riser—and Kate explained the situation. Miriam was horrified by her client’s predicament and promised to help Gladys straight away.

  Next Kate and Ava drove to the elementary school, still managing to arrive ten minutes early. Kate liked to arrive a few minutes ahead of the other parents so she could arrange the tables exactly the way she wanted them. There were certain perks that came with being the head classroom parent.

  Kate unpacked the trunk and set all the sealed trays in a wagon she’d stuffed into the trunk the night before. She proceeded to pull the loaded wagon into the school lobby.

  “Not your first rodeo, is it?” Mr. Hernandez said with a wink. The secretary was familiar with Kate, as she’d been the classroom parent for her sons when they’d attended the school.

  Kate wheeled past him with Ava shuffling by her side. Kate could tell by the way she walked Ava was pretending to have a fin. She let it slide.

  They arrived at the classroom, prompting Mrs. Farnsworth to glance up from her desk. “Is that a fairy I see? How on earth did she grow those lovely wings?”

  Ava giggled. “I’m using a magic spell.”

  Mrs. Farnsworth crossed the room to greet them. “I bet you are.” She smiled at Kate. “Mrs. Golden, you look wonderful. I bet you could turn me into a toad right now if you wanted to.”

  “I’m not that advanced yet,” Kate said. At this point, she wasn’t even a remedial witch. Maybe she was doomed to be a witch in costume only.

  Mrs. Farnsworth stooped over the wagon to admire the trays. “Honestly, I’ve never had a more organized room parent. I became the envy of every teacher in school when they found out Ava Golden was in my class.”

  Kate began pulling desks together to arrange them as tables. “Sweetie, can you get me the packet of tablecloths from the tote bag?”

  Ava retrieved the folded orange and black tablecloths.

  Kate was already halfway finished setting up by the time the other parents arrived to help. Bethany Bingham and Len Fellman stepped into the classroom with their respective children, their faces slackening as they surveyed the decorations. Bethany wore an antenna headband and a black and yellow striped top. Len was dressed as a clown.

  Kate shuddered. She despised clowns.

  “Did the Halloween fairy pay a visit last night?” Len asked.

  “Only this morning and her name is Kate Golden,” Mrs. Farnsworth said.

  Bethany observed Kate from head to toe. “How do you manage to look hot even as a witch?” She shook her head. “Life is so unfair.”

  The clown walked over to inspect the table of cupcakes. “We can’t eat these. They look like small works of art.”

  “I helped,” Ava chirped.

  “She did,” Kate confirmed. “Ava is an expert at handling icing.”

  Bethany opened her plastic container of cookies. “I wish I could say I baked these myself, but I didn’t have time. My mother-in-law is in the hospital again, so we’re shuttling back and forth to their place to help out my father-in-law.”

  Kate made a mental note to keep the cookies on a separate table since they weren’t cleared for kids with allergies.

  “You should’ve texted me,” Kate said to Bethany. “I can help out if you need someone to look after Daisy. She and Ava play so well together.”

  “Oh, I didn’t want to trouble you,” Bethany said. “I know how busy you are.”

  “Seriously, I’d be happy to help.”

  Bethany’s expression softened. “I don’t know how you do it, Kate. You’re remarkable.”

  “Clearly it’s witchcraft,” Len interjected. “And she’s finally giving us a glimpse of her true form.” He waved a hand at her costume.

  Kate waved a hand at his. “Right back at you, Bozo.”

  Bethany leaned over the snack table. “You even organized your cupcakes by color.”

  “You can’t have orange too close to purple,” Kate said. “They clash.”

  Len looked down at his garish clown outfit. “In that case, I’m one giant clash.”

  The rest of the children filed into the room, screeching with delight. Kate was pleased to note there were no other fairies or witches. With the exception of two Harry Potters, there were no duplicate costumes at all.

  Kate carefully explained each game and supervised the groups when it was their turn to load up their plates with food. She loved helping out at school and spending time with her kids in a different environment. Her parents had been too busy fighting each other to volunteer for anything. Kate still remembered observing other parents in the classroom and wishing one of them was hers.

  The party went by in a flash. Students were permitted to go home afterward, but Kate made sure that Ava helped clean up the classroom before they left.

  She and Ava climbed into the Land Rover, one riding a sugar high and the other ready to drop from fatigue.

  “Mommy, thank you. That was the best party ever,” Ava declared, ripping off her rainbow wig with a flourish.

  Kate smoothed back her daughter’s sweaty hair. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Will you come to school for Halloween every year?”

  “Until you start middle school.”

  “Good.” Ava shuffled her bottom on the seat, getting comfortable. “Now, what will you make for the Christmas party?”

  “I like a girl who plans ahead.” The screen on the dashboard alerted Kate to an incoming call and she tapped the screen. “Kate Golden.”

  “Hi Kate. My name is Paisley Sheridan. I’m the assistant for Timothy Turnbull. Would you be available to speak with him?”

  Kate’s pulse sped up. Timothy Turnbull worked for one of the publishing houses she’d queried with her book proposal. Kate immediately turned and put a finger to her lips. Ava mirrored her mother’s movements. She was only six, but she knew when to be quiet for a work-related call.

  “Absolutely,” Kate said.

  “Great. I’ll patch you through.”

  A beat later and a loud voice burst through the speaker. “Kate Golden. What a fantastic proposal. Your platform is impressive. Well, everything about this is impressive or I wouldn’t be calling.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Turnbull.”

  “How would you feel about pitching it to a couple of our executives?”

  “In New York?” Ka
te loved the energy of New York City. She tried to visit twice a year. She could’ve settled there after college graduation if she’d wanted to—plenty of Penn grads flocked to New York to work in the corporate world—but Kate had no desire to put down roots in a busy city.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I’d like to clear a couple hurdles before we have you come in for a face-to-face meeting.”

  “Just let me know what I need to do.”

  “Great attitude and exactly what I expected.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes and Kate ended the call with a squeal of delight.

  “He sounded grumpy,” Ava said.

  “Grumpy? No, sweetheart. That’s just his voice.”

  “I don’t like him,” Ava said. She slid down in her car seat and began to sulk.

  “You don’t need to like him.” Hell, I don’t need to like him, Kate thought. But we don’t get to choose our champions.

  She drove home, singing along with the radio. This was it. Her big chance to secure a book deal. She could hardly believe it. She was already planning the talk she’d deliver about self-actualization once the deal was done. And why wouldn’t it be done? It had been on Kate’s list and Kate always completed her task list.

  After Journey came The Rolling Stones, and Kate belted the chorus at the top of her lungs. “You get what you neeeed.”

  She parked in the driveway and left the motor running until the song was finished. Ava tried to sing with her, but didn’t know the words and eventually gave up.

  The song reminded her of Inga and a sense of sadness washed over her. She wished the older woman was still alive. Kate wanted to tell her about her latest accomplishment—or her near accomplishment. They’d toast to her success and Inga would share a story about her earlier life, a topic that never ceased to interest Kate. Inga had been a strong woman, not the type of woman who sent her daughter to the store so she could commit suicide. Inga was the type of woman who should’ve lived forever.

  Kate thought of the ‘assets’ she’d purportedly inherited from Inga and realized that, in a way, she would.

  Chapter Four

  Kate handled the morning routine with her usual skill. She shot her husband a resentful glare as he appeared in the kitchen fully dressed and ready to depart. He retrieved a travel mug and emptied the contents of the coffee pot into it.

  “Daddy, will you cut my sandwich into fun shapes?” Ava asked. “I don’t like the crust.”

  “Since when?” Kate demanded. This was the first she was hearing about an aversion to crust.

  “I think your mom can handle it.” He winked at Kate.

  “Or you could consider waking up earlier and helping out,” Kate said, careful to keep her tone light and cheerful.

  Lucas planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’d only get in the way and mess up your perfect system.” He stopped to give each child a kiss on his way out the door.

  Kate sighed. He was a good dad and he loved his kids. She only wished he made more of an effort to be helpful. Her job was every bit as demanding as his and her income exceeded his. He seemed to think that just because she worked at home, her job was less important or she had more hours to spare. Like it was a hobby that happened to produce an income. He not only went to the gym most days, he also spent time golfing and boating with friends, whereas Kate’s only social activity that was purely for herself was her weekly cocktail club. Everything else either had a professional component or was connected to the kids.

  “Everyone comes home on the bus today,” Kate reminded them.

  “I want to sit with Mia,” Ava said. “She smells like strawberries.”

  “You’ll have to take that up with her after school,” Kate said.

  Kate made the roundtrip to both schools and returned home to start her work day. She responded to emails and comments, recited her gratitude list, and hit the Peloton bike hard. She mentally ticked off boxes as she showered. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to have accomplished so much before noon. Because it wasn’t a recording day, she had more time to speak to clients and run to the grocery store. She wasn’t against a delivery service on principle, but Kate didn’t trust a shopper to buy exactly what she wanted. She knew the shade of yellow she preferred for bananas and the level of ripeness she desired for avocados. No service could satisfy her standards.

  As she pushed her full cart out of the store, she passed by Kelly Brompton, a parent from the elementary school whose son was a year ahead of Ava.

  “Kate Golden, just the person I want to see.” In her knit sweater and UGGs, Kelly seemed overdressed for the unseasonably warm temperature.

  “You lucked out,” Kate said. “I almost made the trek to Wegmans today.” Kate waited for the other UGG to drop. She recognized when someone wanted something from her and Kelly had ‘favor’ written all over her perky face.

  “You’re so amazing with fundraisers,” Kelly said. “Would you mind chairing the Apple Festival this year? Usually Sue Banner handles it, but she’ll be in Barbados this year to celebrate her fortieth.”

  Kate swallowed hard. She knew her schedule inside and out and there was no way she could add one more task to her list without risking an implosion. On the other hand, the thought of appearing incapable gnawed at her. Saying no would be a sign of weakness. She was Kate Golden. How could she say no? People would speculate.

  Kate felt a stabbing pain in her chest and an image of Inga on the floor flashed in her mind. Inga had collapsed right in front of her after a shot of tequila. The picture morphed into another figure on the floor—this one youthful and blond, her blue eyes open and vacant.

  Kate flinched at the sudden memory of her mother. As hard she’d tried to forget that awful day, the image had a way of seeping into her thoughts when she least expected it. Her suicide had been the worst moment of Kate’s life, much worse than the divorce of her parents. Kate hadn’t realized how much her mother had been hurting in the years following the divorce. Kate had been fifteen at the time, with all a teenager’s usual traits of self-absorption and obliviousness to the lives of adults.

  Kate’s mother had sent her to the store, seemingly desperate for milk to finish a recipe. It had been a ruse, of course. Her mother needed Kate out of the house so she could follow through with her plan without interruption. Kate sometimes wondered whether her mother had considered what would happen next—that Kate would be the one to find her. The image of her mother’s lifeless body was forever seared in her mind. She’d called an ambulance, a futile gesture, but she hadn’t known what else to do. There’d been no saving her. Her mother had decided there was nothing worth living for.

  Kate’s drive to succeed went into overdrive. It had started when she was eight, after her parents’ divorce. She’d been desperately afraid of losing her parents’ love the way they’d lost their love for each other, so she took great pains to be the perfect child. If she were perfect, they would love her and never leave her.

  But at fifteen, she hadn’t been perfect enough for her mother to stay.

  “What do you say, Kate?” Kelly prompted. “You’d have complete control. No committee to limit you.”

  Under normal circumstances, Kelly’s offer would have been a carrot Kate couldn’t resist. Complete control was her preferred method. No one to tell her that the Apple Festival ‘always’ had the banner with the golden apple on it, even though Kate thought the picture looked like a jaundiced butt.

  “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can work it into my schedule,” Kate heard herself say, “but I appreciate you thinking of me.”

  Kelly blinked three times in rapid succession, as though she couldn’t process Kate’s refusal. “Oh, well. That’s too bad. I was sure you’d be up for it.”

  “Not this year. I’m sorry.” Kate didn’t offer any explanation.

  Kelly seemed flustered. She said an awkward goodbye and stumbled away to find some other parent to hoodwink.

  Kate remained rooted in place, the realization of her respons
e landing. “I said no,” she whispered to herself. “Why did I do that?”

  Kelly would tell other parents that Kate said no, that she couldn’t handle the workload.

  By the time Kate arrived home, she was nearly in a blind panic. Word would’ve gotten around by now that Kate Golden wouldn’t—couldn’t—take on the Apple Festival. She could practically hear their whispers and wonderings. Her skin itched with the thought of people thinking less of her. Maybe she’d made a mistake. Maybe she should call Kelly right now and tell her that she’d double-checked her schedule and it appeared that she could chair the festival after all.

  Kate grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and climbed the steps to her office. It was time to recite her gratitude list and check YouTube comments. She was vaguely aware of the automated nature of her movements, like she was operating on muscle memory.

  She finished with her notebook and opened Inga’s book, expecting it to look as blank as every other day.

  Her heart thumped.

  On the first page was a recipe written in unfamiliar script, accompanied by an image of a cocktail that resembled a golden margarita.

  Kate’s hand splayed across her chest as she scanned the entry. “I can’t believe this,” she breathed.

  She immediately called Libbie. Her best friend was the only person in the world who would understand what this moment felt like since she’d recently gone through it.

  “Hey, lady. What’s up?”

  “Are you busy?” Kate asked.

  “I’m rolling dough for pastry. It can wait if you need me.”

  Libbie was an amazing friend. Did Kate tell her that often enough? She doubted it.

  “Can you come over now? I have something important to show you.”

  “That sounds intriguing. You didn’t get a tattoo, did you?”

  Kate laughed into the phone. “I think you know me better than that.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe a tasteful butterfly on your ankle or some Chinese letters you can’t read, but you’re sure they translate to ‘eat, pray, love?’”