Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(11)
“Besides,” Beau continued, sounding irritatingly reasonable and wise, “this will not end well if you don’t step in—not for Charlotte, not for her kids, and definitely not for you.”
Well . . . fuck.
I guess The Pink Pony had a new employee.
CHAPTER 4
CHARLOTTE
“I have nothing but respect for you— and not much of that.”
GROUCHO MARX
“Oh! And we’ll need robes.” Sienna leaned over the kitchen island, picked up the pen she’d discarded a moment ago, and added something to the list on the piece of paper in the center of the counter. “Robes, wands, sorting hat . . . what are we missing?”
“They sell those chocolates, the ones from the movies. I think you can order them online.” Finished with the last of the dishes, I leaned my hip against the counter and twisted my neck to scan the list she’d started before gazing past her to where the children were running around in the backyard. They were alive and all their screams were the good kind. “You could put together favor bags with the candy from the movie.”
“That’s a good idea.” Sienna jotted down a few more lines to her list and I crossed my arms, trying to think.
A few weeks ago, while we’d been over for a playdate, Kimmy—my eldest—had gotten Sienna’s son Ben and my son Joshua hooked on those stories about magic, and now Ben had asked his mother for a witch-and wizard-themed birthday party. Kimmy read the little kids a few excerpts from the first book, but it had been enough for them all to grab anything that looked like a broom and run around the backyard looking for something they called snitches. My three-and-a-half-year-old, Frankie, was using a dustpan.
I didn’t care why they were outside running around, as long as they were outside running around.
“I could ask the Donner Bakery to make a cake that looks like a spell book.” Sienna added this idea to her list. “Or one of the buildings. Or the castle.”
“That’d be nice.” Forget about the outside, I couldn’t wait to taste what the bakery came up with for the inside. Our local bakery made the best cake and I rarely had occasion to sample it.
I didn’t do big birthday parties for my kids. Prior to my recent divorce, always being pregnant and tired had been the main reason. But now, I didn’t have the spare time or money to pull together something that required invites. But I did try my best to make the day special. We followed a schedule, always the same for each of my kids’ birthdays.
I’d wake them up with kisses first thing in the morning while relating their birth story, cuddling and holding them close. They each had a wildly different birth story and I suspected it was their favorite part of the day. If their birthday fell on a school day, I let them stay home if they wanted and help me make their cake. If their birthday didn’t fall on a school day, then they’d help me make their cake and the two of us would go for a walk while it baked, talking about whatever they wanted.
The afternoon was their own, but we all sat down for dinner together to whatever favorite meal they’d requested. My momma usually came over with a pile of small gifts. My ex-in-laws rarely visited, opting instead to send something extravagant in the mail.
My ex-mother-in-law tried to outdo my ex-father-in-law for the most expensive present of the year and that was fine. I’d never been great at gift-buying. They hardly saw the kids and wanted to spoil them a little? Whatever. That said, the kids didn’t need a PlayStation 5 console for every room, and Kimmy wasn’t responsible (or old enough) for the diamond earrings, bracelet, and necklace set her granddaddy had sent last year. Some items had to be held back or tucked someplace safe for later.
Anyway, after dinner there was the blowing out of candles, then cake and presents, then we’d watch a movie of the birthday kiddo’s choosing, and then bedtime.
“I think a stack of books would be easier to cut and divvy up as a cake than a building,” I pondered aloud, checking the time over the oven. I’d stopped by to pick up Joshua from a sleepover and we’d all stayed for pancakes. Getting to know and hanging out with Sienna Diaz and Raquel Ezra this summer had been the most fun I’d had since high school, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.
“Hey, ladies. I got a text.” Jethro, Sienna’s husband, strolled into the kitchen and straight for his wife, giving her a kiss on the temple before sending me a friendly smile. “Beau is on his way over.”
“Okay. Are you guys going out?” Sienna turned toward her husband. “We’re going over ideas for Ben’s birthday party.”
“His birthday party?” Jethro looked nonplussed. “You mean for next spring?”
“I’m trying to get everything organized for the first few months of next year. I have that location shoot in Belize.”
Jethro snagged a grape from the leftover breakfast fruit platter and looked at me. “Uh, no. Beau and I aren’t going out. He’s coming over here and he’s bringing Hank with him.”
My brain ground to a halt and every muscle in my body froze.
I’d been doing my utmost to forget about Sunday’s humiliation-fest at The Pink Pony. The other club’s owner, Mr. Jasper, had been considerably nicer. Skeevier, but nicer. He hadn’t needed me to audition. I signed a work services agreement, filled out a 1099 so he could pay me, and that was it.