Willow’s body ached. After working at the desk, she’d spent the rest of the day helping Madelyn move into her new room. Her first morning in the house, she’d located a garage sale, the Goodwill, and a Salvation Army, and had used most of what remained of the money Willow had sent her to buy furniture and have it delivered to the house. The guest room upstairs already had a bed and a dresser, but Madelyn had added to it, decorating in a bohemian motif. Willow contributed a candle, a peach one that a client had included in a Christmas basket years ago. Her mother lit it as Willow collapsed on the bed, not used to doing so much physical labor.
“It looks good in here.” Willow propped herself up on her elbows, inspecting their work. “Just like that time you came over to the shop and helped me clean it up, remember?” The next day, her mother’s friend had swung by to pick her up—off to speedball, the friend admitted. But Willow wouldn’t remind her of that detail. Their mother had done some shitty things to them, but she was still their mother, something Victoria seemed to forget. The woman had been trying to leave her life in Louisiana, move in with them for years. This was her chance to not fuck things up for herself for once. She sat all the way up, leaning toward her mother, who was in a nearby chair. “Madelyn, listen. You need to really ramp up the charm or you’ll have to say goodbye to all this stuff soon.” She was thrilled her sister had so easily agreed to two weeks. Plan B had been for her mother to negotiate for one night, during which the two of them would figure out a way to make Madelyn indispensable. In comparison, two weeks was plenty of time.
“One thing you should try to do. Connect with Nickie. Vic’s really worried about her right now. It’s time you step up with the grandmother stuff,” Willow said.
“I can try. I don’t know if I’m good talking to teens.”
Willow adjusted herself on the bed. “That’s a good thing. They don’t want you speaking to them like they’re kids. Just be yourself. Talk to Nickie like you would a girlfriend.”
Madelyn hooted. “You sure about that?”
Her mom had a point. “Okay, talk to her like you would one of your devout Christian girlfriends.”
“Don’t have too many of those in my circle, but I get you.” She paused. “And how do I handle Victoria?”
That was the real question. When she’d first reunited with her mother the day before, Willow wondered again if she’d made a mistake sending for her. She knew their mother had been clean for a couple of years, but she still worried about her resorting to old behaviors—speaking out of turn, insulting Victoria. She’d had her doubts and decided to slip a ditty bag with hyssop, rock salt, clover, and crushed eggshell underneath her mother’s mattress to soak up the woman’s negative energy.
Her phone rang. She looked at the screen. January. She’d call him back in a bit.
“Who got you cheesing over there like that—your boyfriend?”
Willow blinked and let any reaction on her face wilt. “Ain’t nobody cheesing. And he’s not my boyfriend.” She wasn’t sure what to call January. They were just having fun, but her situation with him did make Willow think of Nickie and Felix, the brightness of early affection. She contemplated what might happen if she let herself feel that way for a man. Willow had heard for so many years, since she was even younger than Nickie, “Bela Nova made it clear that she’d take away love for us. Forever, and even some more.” Indeed, after studying her book for so long, trying out hundreds of spells, she knew the powers of a hex. But a curse that killed the true loves of many generations? She couldn’t believe it. Because with the exception of writers, politicians, and God, wasn’t no one living or dead whose simple words could last for generations, particularly not a swindler cheat like Bela Nova. She’d heard much about her grandmother’s mentor when she’d worked the shop in New Orleans. The woman had a reputation.
Willow didn’t put any credence in the curse, but in doing what she had all these years to block out love, she’d essentially acted as if it were true, keeping things strictly sexual with her men, and only hooking up with them once to keep her from catching any feelings. Sometimes she wondered if what held her back had been the possibility of upsetting Victoria. But if her niece in her only seventeen years of wisdom was motivated enough to disregard Victoria, why shouldn’t she? After her evening with January, she certainly wanted him, so much so that, once again, she’d put him off, letting him stick his fingers inside of her but nothing else.
“Willow!” Her mother’s voice made her jump. She’d drifted off. It took her a moment to orient herself, not recognizing where she was.
“Hey.”
“You ready to get into your own bed? I’d like to put on my new sheets and lie down.”
Willow sat up. Looking around the room, how the two of them had transformed it in such a short period of time, she wished she would have reached out to Madelyn months ago. It was nice to have someone around who knew what she was capable of.