“We’re still young.”
“I’m thirty-six!”
“That’s young!”
“Spoken like a twenty-five-year-old.” She scowled playfully at me. “You just wait. You think it won’t happen to you. Then, one day, you’re doing deep pore exfoliation in the mirror andBAM!” She slammed one of her fused hands down on the desk surface so hard, it made me jump. “There it is. Your first chin hair. Coarse and gray and slightly curly, like it grew from the ass of Father Time himself.”
I poured the limoncello. “I think you’re being dramatic.”
“Talk to me after you start getting targeted ads for Botox.”
“I already get those.”
“God, the beauty industry is insidious. Being a woman is exhausting. The pressure to be hot twenty-four seven… I can’t do it. I don’t have the time or the energy to be a 10 full time. My hotness is on a sliding scale. Freelance, if you will.”
I nodded. “In my next life, I hope to be reincarnated as a bog witch, who lives at the edge of the woods and strikes fear into the hearts of all men who wander too close.”
“Amen to that, sister.” Gigi lifted her glass by sandwiching it between both palms, seeing as she still had no individual fingers with which to grip. “Cheers! To chin hairs and peeing a little each time you sneeze! Oh, and to your first day at The Gallows.”
“I don’t pee when I sneeze.”
“That will change once you have kids. Trust me.”
A nearly fell off my stool when she said that.
Kids?
For me?
Not likely. Not the way I lived.
What was that saying about a rolling stone collecting no moss…?
Covering my own discomfort, I clinked my glass against Gigi’s and took a hasty swallow of limoncello. It was sugary-sweet, a shock to the taste buds. But beneath the syrupy flavor, the burn of alcohol was strong enough to make my eyes water. My expression scrunched as it slid down my throat and I gasped as it hit my stomach.
“Christ, what’s in this? Lighter fluid?”
“It’s my homemade brew. Secret recipe.” She leaned toward me, voice dropping to a whisper. “The secret is grain alcohol.”
“No freaking kidding.”
Gigi merely shrugged, unbothered, and sipped it like it was the finest scotch. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Doubtful.” I eyed my glass suspiciously before I took another sip. This one went down a bit more easily. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to help you finish your sewing project before tomorrow.”
She grimaced at the bundle of bright green fabric on her desk. “Don’t remind me. I could work all night, I’d still never finish. I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to Rory.”
“First of all, go wash the glue off your hands. I’ll get started on the legs. You’ll focus on the arms. Much as I appreciate the need for tractor beam activators, we need to finish sewing the main sections before we move on to the decorative touches.” I eyed the yards of unfinished fabric with a grimace. “I’ll tell you all about my insane day while we work.”
Before I could stop her, she leaned over and threw her arms around me in a bone-crushing hug. I flinched, but she held fast, squeezing me so tight I couldn’t get out a single word of protest.
“You’re a gem, Imogen Warner. I’m so glad we’re friends.” Quick as she’d initiated the embrace, she ended it, scurrying around me and into the parlor before I had a chance to blink. “Back in a jiffy!”
I was left standing there in the low light of the dusty chandelier, clutching the unfinished costume so hard my knuckles had turned white. Seriously, what was going on in this town? What were they putting in the water? Between Gigi and Gwen and Florence (and a certain silver fox detective I wasnotgoing to think about, not now, maybe not ever) I’d made more friends since I stepped over the Salem border two days ago than I had in the two years prior.
It simply wasn’tnormal!
It was, quite frankly,freaking me out!