It was raining when I got to work that morning. Thankfully, I had an umbrella stashed in my car, so I didn’t look entirely like a drowned rat when I got into the building, but my shoes were still squishing unpleasantly as I walked through the main lobby of the Landmark Hotel.

I worked in the events office. It was a good job. Steady, decent pay. Very few magical mishaps. Actually, if you ignored the wedding that had just occurred – or not – a few days earlier, no magical mishaps. Plus, I got discounts on a lot of the touristy things in the area. Not that I was super into them, but Gretel enjoyed those kinds of things. So I was looking forward to using that discount to do the goofy Halloween activities that made her happy.

If we were even together come Halloween. The thought came unbidden as I moved into the conference room where my desk was set up. Would we even want to be together? 

I had been thinking about proposing to her a few months back. Not really planning, specifically, but maybe toying with planning to propose? The idea of spending my life with her had felt so natural, like of course it was going to happen. We hadn’t talked about marriage yet, not really, so it wasn’t like I was making actual plans. But there had been a necklace she liked with a ring to match and…

Anyway, I wanted this to work so badly. When I thought we were going to die, my biggest regret had been walking out the night before.

But now that we were safe and alive and the adrenaline had subsided, things were rising to the surface again, weren’t they? Gretel said she didn’t want the power dynamic in our relationship to change. And I knew she wasn’t lying. But she wasn’t exactly doing anything to keep that from happening. Before she’d revealed her magic, she’d never tried to control my movement or assume that I didn’t have plans outside of what she already knew about. But the way she’d so casually disregarded my softball practice and then been offended I didn’t want her to heal a tiny shaving nick had set that uneasy feeling off again. 

There was a time just after college when Joel and I were living together in a shitty little apartment in a different part of Salem. I had a job at a coastal ice cream stand in Beverly and he was interning. Shockingly at a non-magical corporation over in Andover. But he would do the same thing. He was off on Saturdays and Sundays, so of course I was too. And he’d make plans for us, telling me the night before that we were going to this or that destination. And he never meant anything cruel or controlling by it. It was the opposite; he was thinking of fun things to do because we loved each other and wanted to spend more time together. But he was always so shocked that I had a shift at noon and wouldn’t be able to spend the night at the Omni Parker House with him.

We did eventually spend a night there. And the room was incredibly haunted, I don’t think Joel slept more than twenty minutes that night. I woke up in the morning to him staring up at the ceiling, talking about Charles Dickens. We never went back, but I’m sure he went to all kinds of exciting, expensive hotels like that again. 

After everything went to shit. After me.

And now here I was thinking about the end of me and Joel’s relationship too. He wasn’t the same person as Gretel and she was aware of it. But still, she’d just moved to heal the tiny cut that stopped bleeding with the slightest bit of pressure, knowing how I felt. So the fact that we could go through all of that, reclaim our love for one another, and still have these issues?

It fucking sucked.

“Morning, Daria.”

My boss, Angie, was standing in the doorway of her office, which was connected to the conference room where I’d made my little workspace. Angie was older than me, in her mid-forties, with curly black hair that was currently spilling down her back. She looked around the room, which still contained traces of its transformation for the wedding the other day. A single rose was hiding beneath a small table and the curtains were still draped across the top of it. I’d been meaning to get those last things back in place, but I’d been distracted at work yesterday by the exact same things I was going to be distracted by today. 

“Morning,” I said.

“We’ve got one guy coming in for an introductory meeting today,” Angie said. “He’s looking for a place to hold a Sweet Sixteen in a few months.” That wasn’t something that this conference room would contain. I had an image of dozens of teenagers crowded into this room, all sweat and hormones. We’d need one of the bigger spaces. Hopefully the event room that had been flooded with a magically burst pipe would dry and go completely back to normal without a single spot of magical mold to make my life miserable once again.

“When’s that?” I asked.

“About an hour and a half. Do you mind taking it solo? I need to meet with Victor to set up the dental conference’s rooms.”

I shrugged. “No problem.”

A completely normal work meeting was exactly what I needed right now. Some time discussing DJs and catering and all the things I’d gotten so used to over the past several months. It would be just what I needed to get centered again. Then I’d feel better once I got home in about eight hours.

And tonight would probably be shaky and awkward, but that was what it was. I could have an honest conversation with Gretel and then tomorrow would be better. 

Angie went back into her office and I got settled into my space, scrolling through my email for anything to get my attention until the meeting. There wasn’t really anything exciting. A few rooms were closed for repairs. Time cards needed to go in early this week. There was a discount for a harbor cruise that seemed like it might be nice to do with Gretel if we were still speaking this summer. 

God, why did I keep thinking like this? We both wanted it to work. So we just had to figure out how to do it.

A dragging hour later, one of the reception desk staff poked her head into the conference room. “Hey, Dar?”

I looked up, trying to remember her name. But she just pointed out out toward the desk, “Your nine-thirty is here.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said.

I got up and straightened my shirt, then followed her out to the desk, plastering on my best customer service smile for the man who was standing there.

He was young, and very handsome. Probably a year or two younger than me, twenty-six or so, with dark, shiny hair. He held out a hand and shook mine with a firm, confident grip. “Declan Howard,” he said. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Daria,” I said. “Follow me, we can go talk in the events office.”

“I was thinking we could go outside,” Declan said with the confidence of a wealthy man who rarely heard the word “no” said in his direction. “The rain let up, and I spotted that cute little patio out there.”

We did, in fact, have a cute little patio. I’d thought he would want to see the space where his – not daughter, he was definitely not old enough for that – relative or loved one was potentially having her milestone birthday. But I also didn’t want to lose the sale by being stubborn, so I smiled at him. “Follow me,” I repeated, now moving toward the side door.

It opened onto a small patio with three tables. One was covered by an umbrella and the seats were miraculously dry. He pulled out a chair for me, then one for himself once I was seated.

“So you’re looking to host a Sweet Sixteen?” I asked, wishing I’d thought to print out his file. Amateur move.

“Yes,” he said with another sparkling smile. “I want to make her birthday the best it can be. After all, sixteen only comes once, you know? You have to go all out.”

My Sweet Sixteen had been three friends and me making nachos and watching scary movies in my mother’s basement. It was fun and memorable, but simple. But of course my job was to make this elaborate dream come true. And if he had the means and desire to do it, then my opinion didn’t matter.

“Well, we’ve got a couple of spaces,” I said. “The main event hall has been closed this week due to a burst pipe, but we’re getting it set back up. How far off is this birthday?”

“Way off,” Declan said with a casual wave of his hand. “This winter. There’s plenty of time, don’t worry.”

“Excellent,” I said. “Well, that should be ready to go within the next couple weeks. We’ve also got a smaller space further back in the building. It’s technically a conference room, but with more privacy. We have held an event in the front conference room, beside the events office. But I wouldn’t recommend it unless the other two are taken and you really want that space.”

“And catering?” he asked.

“Oh, we’ve got some great caterers that we work with,” I replied, settling into the groove of the conversation. “If you’re local, you might know The Scarecrow Grille. The owner – Reg – often does our more casual catering. If you’re dealing with teens, you might be more interested in something like that. We’ve also got more upscale partners as well. I assume no alcohol, but if you want to get fancy with some mocktails, we can do that as well.”

“Excellent,” Declan said, nodding his head.

He looked around the space. I thought he was going to ask about an outdoor component and was ready to get my usual insurance and safety speech going, but then he just looked at me.

“One more thing, Dar,” he said. “I gotta know. How did you really destroy the Scarlet Holding?”

---

Continue to Chapter 4