38. Daisy

CHAPTER 38

Daisy

D aisy pulls open the door, a bell chiming overhead signaling her arrival. The barista behind the counter at Taster's Delight smiles, calling a good morning greeting to her. "The usual?"

"Please," Daisy replies, selecting a small table off to the side and settling in. She places her laptop and folder on the table, prepping for the meeting with Nips & Nibbles, one of the food truck vendors they've booked for Saturday evening. She met with Toll the Bread and The Spiced Tree, two other food vendors yesterday, and this is her last meeting. She hopes to finalize Nips & Nibbles selections and will review the timeline and expectations for the event.

As the barista brings her iced latte to the table alongside a slice of banana bread, Sulma, the owner and goblin chef of Nips & Nibbles, enters. Daisy raises her hand and waves Sulma over. "Would you like something to drink or eat?" Daisy asks her when she arrives at the table.

Sulma climbs into the chair, positioning herself onto her knees before effortlessly shifting to her bottom. Or at least she makes it look effortless. Her bright light blue dress sparkles under the cafe lights and beautifully compliments her dusty rose-hued skin. "That would be lovely. I'll take a flat white and a peach scone."

"Coming right up," Daisy replies before making her way to the counter and placing Sulma's order. When she returns with Sulma's items in hand, the goblin is organizing her own grouping of papers. With Daisy's laptop and their combined documentation, it's surprising there is any room left for their food and drink. "I love that we both come so prepared." Daisy laughs.

"Right? Logically, I know all of this," she says, gesturing to the papers between them, "isn't necessary, but it helps me to feel calmer and more focused when I have everything needed at hand. It is as if I can be ready for whatever you ask because I have everything but the truck with me. Though, if you want to do a walkthrough of that, it's parked on the street." Sulma points her thumb toward the door behind them.

"Maybe when we're done. I've never actually seen the inside of a food truck, and it fascinates me how you all do what you do in what seems to be such an enclosed space."

"It takes a lot of coordination and trust, that's for sure. But I'd happily walk you through it when we're done here."

Over the next half an hour, Sulma and Daisy review the menu, making final adjustments to ensure they have the best options and variety available. The energy that Sulma brought to just the table for their meeting was palpable, and Daisy couldn't wait to see her in her element on the mingling night.

"Shall we go for a walk through the truck?" Sulma offers as she packs up her notes.

Excitement courses through Daisy's veins, sparking magic under her skin. A faint violet tendril floats through her fingers as she plays with it. "Yes, please."

"I love how you do that. It must be so much fun."

Daisy looks at her hand, not noticing what she has been doing. She laughs gently, a hint of embarrassment present. "To be honest, that's the first time I've been able to do that without focusing on it."

"Oh?"

"When a witch is deemed ready, the can merge with their family grimoire, a book that we pass down from generation to generation, filled with history, spells, potions, et cetera. It increases our power or ability when we merge with it, and it takes some getting used to. I've recently merged with mine, and it's… been an adjustment. I didn't even notice I was playing with it."

Sulma's expression takes on a wistful look. "That sounds wonderful. Each of our families has different traditions that are passed down as well. The connection to our history is cherished, and it helps us understand who we are. Our history shapes us for better or worse."

"It's so true," Daisy says, thinking about everything she has been through.

Sulma's hand reaches out, laying it gently on Daisy's other hand on the table. "I can tell from your expression that you are thinking of challenging times. I would be a liar if I said I didn't know who your family is, but I would also be a liar if I said that I cared. Our history may shape us, but our story is not written in stone. We have the ability to grow, change, be different. To learn from our history. And," she says, looking around, "from what I see, you have gone leaps and bounds beyond what your past may say you are."

Daisy's eyes burn with the emotions she holds back. "Thank you. Hearing that means more than I can ever say. I saw all the pain and suffering my family caused, and I felt it all too. As much as it hurt, I never want someone else to experience what I did. It doesn't mean it's still not hard to be battling against history. But I'm learning to embrace my story. So again, thank you."

Sulma gives her a look full of compassion. It's taken Daisy a long time to accept that look for what it is—someone caring about her—and not for what she thought it was—pity. As they get up to walk through the food truck, Daisy feels some of the weight she's been carrying fall off her shoulders.

After the truck tour, Sulma gives Daisy the longest and purest hug, making her promise that they will meet up for coffee again soon. Daisy had meant for this meeting to be strictly about the event, but she's not upset about the turn it took. As she watches Sulma drive off, waving happily out the driver's side window, Daisy can feel the lasting impression from her hug and the new friendship taking shape.

Slinging her bag onto her shoulder, she walks over to her car. She sets her phone on top of the car while she unlocks the door and tosses her bag onto the passenger seat. Her mind still preoccupied with Sulma and what she said about moving past her history, Daisy starts the car, puts the window down, and begins to back out of her spot.

CRACK! CRUNCH!

She stops, checking her mirrors and leaning out of the window. That's when she sees it. "Fuck!" she yells. Daisy pulls back into the parking space, hearing another loud crunch, not that it matters now. She parks, unbuckles, and opens the door, flinging herself out of the vehicle. Behind her tire lies what used to be her phone.

"Witches' tits!"