“Read it to me again?” Cat’s face loomed inside the phone, filling most of the screen. She was FaceTiming so that she could multitask, as usual.
Gretchen leaned over the counter, where Amity’s envelope sat. It contained a white piece of cardstock with black print. She read:
Amity Caraway’s Charm School for Women
Thursdays at 7pm 1313 Coldwater St
Her sister’s nose wrinkled. “‘Charm School?’ That’s some historical romance stuff.”
“Yeah,” Gretchen said, tracing the words with her finger. The ink had a bronze tint under her kitchen lights. “I guess it’s a pun.”
“Right, because of the witchy-woo.” Cat grinned and waved her hands in front of her face.
Gretchen glared. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Only a little. Hey, if my big sis says she met a witch in an elevator, then she did. I mean, obviously I’m furious that you didn’t snag me a video. You-” Cat’s head turned. Her audio went silent as she spoke to someone off-screen for a few minutes. She stuck her tongue out and unmuted. “Sorry. So, what’s the scoop on this Amity? I know you looked her up, like, immediately.”
“Well, yeah,” Gretchen huffed. She wasn’t stupid. “But I didn’t find much. She’s got a TikTok, Instagram, and all that, but it’s mostly make-up tips and slice of life stuff. A few posts promoting her book. Nothing ‘witchy’.”
“Hm. And the address? Is it her house?”
“It’s a coffee shop.”
“Okay, good, public. You can show up, have a looksee, and bail if anything seems sketch. Just don’t follow her to any secondary locations, and you’ll be fine.”
“Right.” If only she could conjure up some of her sister’s enthusiasm. It had taken everything Gretchen had just to put on clean pants and brush her hair this morning, even with the possibility of a paying job at the end of it. What would she get for this?
Magic?
No way. The more time passed, the more Gretchen had begun doubting what she’d seen. Maybe the weird symbols had just been scribbles made with some sort of trick ink. Maybe Amity was just an opportunistic saleswoman who got lucky the elevator doors opened when they did. Maybe Gretchen had just been spending too much time alone, with only novels for company, and was grasping at anything that might distract her from a too-empty condo.
“Gretch? You there?” Cat leaned in again. “Hey, I gotta go. Tell me what happens! Love you.”
“Love you.” Gretchen sighed and leaned her forehead against the cabinet. Something bumped into her ankle. She looked down at the black creature enthusiastically rubbing up against her legs. “I wasn’t talking to you, Monster.” she said, reaching down to scratch his neck. He leaned into the touch, purring. “But yes, you are also loved.”
The sudden silence was intolerable. After feeding Monster his plate of wet food, Gretchen fled to the bathroom for a hot shower. Despite not accomplishing anything with her day, she felt exhausted. When she came out, warmer and cleaner, her hair wet against her neck, Amity’s card was still sitting there. Waiting. The pink envelope looked obscene on her counter. She touched it with a fingertip, leaving a damp print that faded seconds later.
What did she need with magic, anyway?
No husband, no job, no friends.
In some ways, she’d already disappeared.
On Thursday night, as darkness fell, Gretchen caught an Uber to The Queen Bean. Coldwater Street turned out to only be twenty minutes away, a side street running parallel to a busier thoroughfare.
The coffee shop was tiny, tucked between an optometrist and a pilates studio. It had a glass front neatly split into windows and a single door, from which an ‘Open’ sign hung. One tiny table with four chairs barely fit in front of the windows. That table was occupied by an intense-looking man typing furiously on a laptop. Gretchen carefully edged around him. She glanced down at her phone as she pushed the door open. Two minutes past seven.
Inside, the place seemed bigger, though not much. It had the usual coffee shop layout - the counter straight back, taking up the full width of the place, with tables scattered around in the front. Instead of wallpaper, the owners had decorated with some paper-mache slather of articles, some from newspapers, some printed from the internet. Although the windows were big enough to maximize daylight, they weren’t much help at this time of evening in late fall. Big neon signs glowed from the upper walls, spelling things like GirlBoss and Queen, casting a bar-like rainbow tone onto the few guests inside.
One of these guests was Amity, presiding over two tables that had been dragged together. Three other women sat with her. Each head turned expectantly when Gretchen entered.
“Gretchen!” Amity waved her over, grinning widely. Her lips were brown today. Pink light glimmered in her glossy hair. Today she wore a pair of acid green skinny jeans with a black short-sleeved top, layered with a long gold pendant necklace that hung past her sternum. “I’m so glad you could make it. Pull up a chair, say hi!”
She did, nervously clutching her purse to her lap as she took in the new faces. “Hi.”
“Hello Gretchen!” The one on her left spoke first. She looked young, maybe in her twenties, with dark skin and hair swept into a big twist. She stuck her hand across the table, nearly toppling her cardboard cup. “I’m Isha.”
Gretchen shook it, nodding politely.
“Marie,” the blonde woman spoke next, raising a hand instead of offering it to shake. A wedding ring glinted on her finger. She looked older than Isha, a little heavy-set, with striking green eyes set off by bronze eyeshadow.
“And last but not least, this is Fern,” Amity introduced the last woman, the one sitting to Gretchen’s right, who was staring intently at the table. She had dark hair that curled around her ears, giving her a pixie look despite her height - even sitting, she appeared a few inches taller than the rest. Fern smiled, lifting her eyes for just a moment to offer Gretchen a friendly nod. Her hands - perfectly manicured - toyed with her cup.
Amity continued. “I spoke with Rachel yesterday, and she’s still not well enough to resume classes, So, I invited Gretchen to round us out.” The other women nodded along. Amity’s sparkling eyes turned on Gretchen. “Are you ready to get started?”
Gretchen raised her hand, unsure of the protocols. “Get started with what, exactly?”
The rest of the group paused. Marie raised a brow. Isha grinned. Fern’s mouth twisted. Amity leaned forward as if to conspire. “With magic, of course,” she whispered dramatically.
“Uh-huh.” Gretchen looked at all of them, unsure of how to parse their responses. “Magic. Like… Houdini? David Copperfield?”
Amity’s smile tilted up. “Not exactly.”
“Should we go?” Marie made to stand up.
Isha blinked at her. “What’s the hurry?”
“I’m this close to nailing my first conjure.” Marie shrugged. “The quicker we break the new girl’s cherry, the quicker we can get to work. Let’s go.”
Go where? But before Gretchen could ask, Amity tapped the table for attention. “Now, now.” Her voice remained cheerful. “Remember, we’re not just doing this for ourselves. Magic is about community. Sisterhood. I know we didn’t plan to add a new member today, but the universe rarely cares about our plans. Gretchen asked a good question.” She rested her chin on her knuckles, fingers interlaced, casting a speculative glance around the table. “Fern, why don’t you do the honors?”
Fern’s lashes fluttered, like startled butterflies. She chewed her lip for a moment, thinking, then upended her cup. The lid popped off, sending coffee flowing across the table. Gretchen gasped and leapt up, nearly crashing into Isha, who had the same reaction. Marie just scooted her chair back and rolled her eyes. Amity remained where she was, even when the liquid touched her elbow. A tiny smile curled her dark lips.
Meanwhile, Fern traced a finger through the spreading puddle, around and around, drawing clean trenches in a pattern that looked familiar. Gretchen leaned forward. It wasn’t the same set of circles that Amity drew on the elevator, but they looked similar enough. When she was done, Fern closed her eyes, murmured some words under her breath, and opened her hand. The spilled coffee seemed to fizzle and then melt away.
Gretchen sat back in her chair, hard. Her mouth had fallen open.
On the other side of the table, Marie made a popping noise with her mouth, earning a gentle punch in the shoulder from Isha.
“Excellent work, Fern.” Amity smiled at Fern before turning to Gretchen. Her interlaced fingers twisted together beneath her chin, toying with a small gold ring on one finger. “So. Not exactly like David Copperfield.”
Gretchen looked around. She and Isha hadn’t exactly been quiet, but nobody else in the coffee shop seemed to have noticed the commotion. Was that more magic, or just normal politeness?
Marie seemed to notice her looking. “Cool, mind blown. Can we go now?”
“Yes, let’s.” Amity sat back and reached for her purse. “We don’t like to do anything too big in public,” she explained. “So class actually takes place at my house. I just like to give the new girls a chance to escape, first.” Her laugh jingled, like coins in a velvet bag. “It’s only a couple blocks. You in?”
They were all looking at her. Gretchen realized she was sitting with her purse clutched to her chest as if she expected a mugging. She looked at Amity, then Marie, then Isha, then Fern, who was still staring at the clean table, smiling to herself. If she minded sacrificing her drink to the demonstration, she didn’t show it.
Her sister’s warning leapt into her head. Amity’s house definitely counted as a secondary location. Gretchen set her jaw.
“I’m in.”