Bewitching Bitters

by Annabel Chase

  “Oh, and Kate.”

  Her finger hovered over the button to end the call. “Yes?”

  “We’d like you to make some changes to your pitch before then, if it’s not too much of an imposition,” Timothy said.

  Kate flinched. “What kind of changes?”

  “We’d like you to shift your focus to a certain segment of the market. The book club moms. You know, women like you.”

  Kate didn’t know how to respond. She was in a cocktail club, not a book club. “My book is motivational. It isn’t really aimed at book club moms.”

  A look of concern crossed Lucas’s rugged features.

  “Exactly,” Timothy said. “Moms want to lose those stubborn fifteen pounds after the kids are born. They want to know how to juggle childcare and career. How to have it all. Like you, Kate. And you’re in the best position to tell them how to do it. One look at you and they’ll be handing over their money. Hell, their husbands will probably buy the book for them.”

  Kate stood her ground. “I don’t have anything against book club moms, and I’m sure those women will find value in my book, but that’s not an angle I’m interested in emphasizing.” It had the potential to turn into shaming women instead of motivating them.

  Silence greeted her response.

  “Mr. Turnbull, did you hear me?” Maybe they’d lost their connection.

  “I heard you, Kate. Let me put it this way, if you want this deal to happen, I suggest you learn to incorporate feedback.”

  They had, indeed, lost their connection.

  “Is that something you think you can do?” he pressed.

  Her throat thickened. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll revise the pitch by tomorrow.”

  “I knew I could count on you. You’re Supergirl, right?”

  “Wonder Woman,” Kate corrected him, emphasizing the word ‘woman.’

  “One’s as hot as the other, right? Speak to you tomorrow.”

  Kate’s hand was shaking as she set the phone on the island.

  Lucas gave her an appraising look. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “A publishing company is interested in my book proposal,” she said.

  His broke into a grin. “Kate, that’s amazing.”

  “Not yet, it isn’t. There are hoops I need to jump through first.” There was no point in celebrating until the ink was dry.

  “If anyone can jump through hoops, it’s you.”

  “It’s only a preliminary stage. I don’t want to jinx it.”

  Lucas was quiet for a moment. “Okay. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll heat up your plate?”

  Kate thought of the changes she’d need to make to her proposal in time for tomorrow’s meeting. With her busy schedule tomorrow, she’d need to get started now. “I don’t have much of an appetite. I think I’ll go upstairs.”

  “Need help getting upstairs?” he asked.

  “No, I can do it.”

  “Of course you can,” he said quietly. “Good night, Kate.”

  “Good night.”

  Chapter Six

  Kate skipped exercise the next morning. She hated to miss a workout, but she had to prioritize the day’s tasks and, sadly, exercise didn’t make the cut. She made sure to check her inbox before leaving for her first appointment. It pained her to leave messages unread; they haunted her until she clicked them open and dealt with them.

  There was a new email from someone named Brent Hirsch. Kate clicked it open and scanned the contents. He wanted to talk about Kate hosting her own radio show.

  Kate could hardly believe it. The station was located in Philadelphia, not too far away for a weekly trip. A show like this would be an opportunity to increase her exposure and net more speaking engagements, although that would mean more travel.

  Kate sighed, her excitement deflating. She couldn’t leave Lucas in charge of the kids with any regularity and his parents were too old to run around at warped speed. Maybe they’d hire a nanny, although they’d agreed early in their marriage they didn’t want a stranger in charge of their kids. It was a point Kate felt strongly about, mostly because of her own childhood experience.

  She didn’t reply to the email. She’d need to speak to Lucas first. Gauge his reaction.

  Cat-Cat appeared in her line of sight.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Kate said. “There’s no point in replying until I’ve discussed it with my husband.”

  She grabbed her handbag on the way to the garage door. Cat-Cat meowed as though saying goodbye. Kate turned, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to offer reassuring words to the cat whenever she left the house. Did cats understand object permanence?

  “I’ll be back,” she told the cat.

  Cat-Cat swished her tail and walked away.

  Kate approached her eye exam the way she approached any exam, with a steely determination to get everything right.

  Once she’d finished, she craned her neck to look at Dr. Farrell. “Did I score one hundred percent?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “It seems it’s time for reading glasses, Mrs. Golden.”

  Kate stared at him. “Can you repeat that?”

  He chuckled. “Uh oh, might be time for a hearing test, too.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you think I need reading glasses?”

  “That’s the whole reason for the exam. The lens inside your eye has become less flexible. You said you were having trouble reading small print and that’s why. You need reading glasses.”

  “But I’ve always had perfect vision,” she protested.

  “You do—until you don’t. That’s how vision works.”

  Kate took a moment to digest the news. She was forty-eight going on eighty-eight.

  “It happens to everyone eventually, Mrs. Golden. To be fair, you’ve made it a little longer. The average woman needs reading glasses around forty.”

  That fact gave her little satisfaction. She didn’t want to need reading glasses at all. She didn’t want to need anything. Need was a sign of weakness. A flaw. Kate had worked too hard at reducing her flaws to succumb to them now.

  “What about LASIK surgery?” she asked.

  “There are options, but they come with risks, like any surgery.”

  Given her current run of bad luck, Kate didn’t think surgery was such a good idea. “Is there anything I can do to improve it? Any sight exercises? I’m very disciplined.”

  The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s all downhill from here, I’m afraid.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He shrugged. “All part of the joys of aging. Once you’re on that bottom rung, there’s no getting off.” He motioned to the door. “Have a look in the display cases and choose the frames you like best.”

  The only frames Kate wanted to choose were dark sunglasses that disguised her like a celebrity. Reading glasses would not have the same effect. They reminded her of her grandmother. Grandma Iris had worn her reading glasses on a chain around her neck to avoid misplacing them. Even then, she’d occasionally ask Kate if she’d seen them. Kate would point to the top of her grandmother’s head. It became so routine that Kate would only need to point wordlessly and Grandma Iris would pull the glasses down to the slope of her nose.

  Kate meandered from one display case to another, her frown deepening with each step. She could color her hair and get Botox for fine lines and wrinkles, but she couldn’t hide her need for reading glasses unless she opted for surgery.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told herself. “How often will I need to wear these anyway?” She wasn’t a pharmacist or someone whose job required her to read small print all day. They’d be for occasional use only. In private.

  She tried on a few—ignoring the sight of the unseemly wart—before settling on a plain black pair.

  “They look good on you,” the receptionist said, smiling encouragingly.

  “Sexy librarian good?” Kate asked.

 
“Oh, definitely,” she said. “Your husband will want you to do bedtime readings.”

  Kate thought of their separate bedrooms and knew it was unlikely. “I’m sure he will,” she said.

  She paid for the glasses and returned to her car as the phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hi Kate, it’s Lacey. I’m afraid I have bad news. Laura is out with the flu and we can’t fit you in for color until next week.”

  Kate instinctively glanced at her roots in the rearview mirror. “There’s no one else?”

  “I’m so sorry. People seem to be getting a head start for Thanksgiving, so we’re fully booked.”

  Kate wanted to ask why they waited so late to tell her. Instead, she said, “Please tell Laura I hope she feels better soon.”

  Kate couldn’t wait another week to get her hair colored. She had to record a video between now and then and her roots would be too visible. As far as Kate was concerned, untouched roots suggested a disorganized woman or one who’d given up. That wasn’t the image she could afford to project to her subscribers or her clients, especially in light of her impending book deal.

  Never one to shrink from a challenge, Kate stopped at the beauty supply store on her way home. A quick search on her phone showed the best option for her hair color and skin tone. It wasn’t salon quality, but it was better than a box from the drugstore. She consulted an online checklist and added a cape, a bowl, a brush, and a cap to her purchase.

  The house was still empty when she arrived home, so she decided now was the ideal time to color her hair. She didn’t have any virtual meetings today and she knew from experience it was best to tackle a new project when there was no chance for child-related interruptions.

  Cat-Cat found her cloaked in a cape in the bathroom, hunched over the sink with a color-coated brush in her hand.

  “Go away,” Kate said. “Now isn’t a good time.”

  Cat-Cat meowed.

  “I’m sure you’re hungry or thirsty or wanting attention, but you’ll have to wait like everyone else.”

  She wondered how Inga had handled living in a house with multiple cats. Did they follow her in and out of every room? Kate didn’t remember the cats being much of a nuisance during their cocktail club meetings.

  “Meow,” the cat repeated.

  “Right back at you,” Kate said.

  By the time she finished coloring her hair, it was almost three o’clock. Kate had to scramble to clean up before everyone arrived home. In the interest of time, she bypassed the hair dryer and hurried downstairs to get out the blender. There were no activities after school on Fridays, so Kate usually made each child a fruit smoothie when they came home to celebrate the commencement of the weekend.

  Ava was the first to arrive home and Kate greeted her at the door. Ava clasped a painting in her hand and thrust it high for her mother’s inspection.

  “I made this,” Ava announced.

  “It’s beautiful.” Kate had no idea what it was meant to be.

  Slowly, Ava lowered the picture and studied her mother. “Why does your hair look weird?”

  “It’s wet, sweetheart. I washed it earlier and didn’t have time to dry it. I wanted to get started on your smoothie.”

  At the mention of a smoothie, Ava bolted to the kitchen. Kate rejected her daughter’s request to add sprinkles.

  “It’s not a milkshake.”

  “It looks like a milkshake and tastes sweet.”

  Kate fixed her daughter with a hard look. “No sprinkles.”

  Ava had just sucked down the last of her smoothie when the boys came charging into the house. Gavin stopped short at the sight of her, causing Brett to collide into his back.

  “What’s up with your hair?” Gavin asked.

  “Why is wet hair such a big deal?” Kate asked.

  “It’s not wet,” Brett said. “It’s pink.”

  “It clashes with your wart,” Gavin said.

  “You look like my mermaid Barbie,” Ava added. “Her hair changes color in the water.”

  Kate started to laugh, but the expression on the boys’ faces gave her pause. She rushed to the powder room and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

  Pink.

  It was a pale pink rather than a shocking pink, but still. Kate was a blonde and tried to keep her color as close to natural as possible. She wasn’t the type of woman to dye her hair eleven shades of crazy. Those women were divorced with tattoos and bare midriffs.

  “Mom?” Brett appeared in the doorway wearing a concerned expression.

  She swiveled toward him. “It’s pink.”

  “I guess you didn’t mean to do that.”

  “No, honey. I certainly did not.” Her fingers swept through her hair as she contemplated her options.

  “I still think it looks pretty,” he said.

  “Between my hair, my wart, and my glasses, I’ll look like I’m incognito.”

  Her son cocked his head. “What glasses?”

  Kate waved him off. “Never mind. I’m going to pretend they don’t exist.” She couldn’t handle any more issues.

  The realization jarred her. Kate never put limitations on herself. In her experience, she could handle any problem thrown at her, yet here she was, ready to fall apart over her appearance.

  Brett seemed to sense her distress. He threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “It’s okay, Mom. The pink hair distracts from the wart.”

  She stroked the back of his head, the way she used to do when he was younger. He was her sensitive child, in tune with others’ feelings as well as his own. She wasn’t sure how his empathy had developed. She and Lucas weren’t known for being warm and fuzzy people.

  Kate returned to the kitchen and finished making smoothies for the boys. No one mentioned her hair again.

  “Can I watch TV?” Ava asked.

  “Not until four o’clock,” Kate said. “You know the rules.”

  “But it is four o’clock.” Ava pointed to the clock on the microwave.

  “No, it’s not,” Gavin said. “It’s quarter past.”

  Kate’s breathing hitched. “Shit.”

  Ava giggled. “You said a bad word.”

  “That’ll cost you a dollar,” Gavin said.

  Kate grabbed her phone and bolted upstairs. It would cost her a lot more than a dollar if she didn’t get on the phone with the publishing company right now. Why didn’t her reminder sound?

  She reached the solitude of her studio and checked her phone. Two missed calls. Her phone had somehow been switched to silent mode.

  Trying not to panic, she called Timothy Turnbull’s number. “Mr. Turnbull’s office. Paisley speaking.”

  “Paisley, it’s Kate Golden. I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a childcare issue, but I’m here now.”

  “One moment, please.”

  “We thought you’d forgotten us.” Timothy’s voice reverberated and Kate switched the call to speaker mode to save her eardrum.

  “One of the kid’s practices ran late,” Kate lied. She’d never had to use her kids as an excuse before. She felt dirtier than her husband’s martinis.

  “See? You’re the perfect person to appeal to harried mothers around the world. Tell them how to juggle all those eggs in their baskets.”

  Kate thought juggling eggs was a bad idea, but she kept the comment to herself.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. “I’ve got two colleagues here with me and they’re eager to hear your pitch.”

  “Ready when you are,” Kate said, and launched into her revised proposal.

  By the time Lucas arrived home after dinner, Kate had secured a silk scarf over her head in the style of Grace Kelly, one of her fashion icons. Lucas didn’t seem to notice. He set his briefcase on the floor and offered her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

  “How was everyone’s Friday?” he asked with a cheerful smile.

  “I had my second call with the publishing company,” Kate said.

  Lucas joined them at the table. “That�
�s great. You’ll be a published author in no time.” He seemed to register her blank expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Why would you ask that?”

  He peered at her. “You’ve got that look.”

  “What look?”

  “The one that says your steak is medium when you requested medium well.” He eyed her carefully. “Are you about to send back a steak?”

  Ava erupted into giggles. “Daddy, we’re not even in a restaurant.”

  “And we’re not having steak,” Brett added.

  “There’s no steak,” Kate said. “I’m not sending anything back. The call went well. Everything’s fine.” And if Kate continued to play her cards right, she’d soon have the book deal she’d always wanted.

  “If you say so,” Lucas said.

  “Mommy said you’re taking us to the movies,” Ava said.

  Lucas blinked at her. “I am?”

  “It’s Friday,” Kate said. “Cocktail club.”

  Lucas looked at her. “I know, but I didn’t think it was your turn to host. I figured the kids and I would hang out here.”

  “Change of plans.” Kate didn’t mention that she’d been the one to change the plans to avoid being seen in public. Between her hair and the wart, Kate would be perfectly happy to stay in the house until Ava left for college.

  “I guess we’re going to the movies,” Lucas said, although he didn’t sound thrilled by the idea.

  Kate thought it would be good for him to take the kids out on his own. She was usually the one tasked with ferrying them from school activity to playdate to family outing. Lucas showed up when and where he wanted, whereas Kate wasn’t given an option. She didn’t complain, though—not out loud anyway. She didn’t want Lucas to resent their children the way she felt her own father had resented her for existing. She’d cost him money during her parents’ custody battle and then became an inconvenience once he’d married his second wife. Kate wanted the children to adore their father, so she picked up his slack without a word. She was Kate Golden, after all. If anyone could handle it, she could.

  Lucas finally seemed to register her scarf. “What’s with the headdress? Is there a theme tonight?”