16. Natalie

16

NATALIE

T he creaky wooden floorboards groan beneath our feet as I lead the potential buyers through Myrtle’s storefront. Dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the slightly drafty windows.

“As you can see, the space boasts unique architectural features,” I say, gesturing to the curved alcove shelves and the carved wooden beams overhead. “It’s quite spacious too, with room for multiple display areas—or seating, depending on your vision.”

My gaze lingers on a particularly weathered section of exposed brick, and I find myself adding, “Of course, it’s an older building, so it does have its quirks. The floorboards can be a bit creaky in spots, and the windows let in a draft on blustery days.” I pause. “Oh, and the roof has been known to spring the occasional leak during heavy rainfall. Nothing major, but something to keep in mind.”

I catch myself, surprised at my own candor. This isn’t like me, to point out a property’s flaws rather than highlighting its potential. Where’s my usual smooth sales pitch that I use when getting partnerships set up for clients?

Moving through the space, I realize there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to sell—that I’m growing attached to this place, that it has somehow wormed its way into my heart these past weeks.

The tour continues, the buyers peppering me with questions about square footage and the building’s history.

I answer as best I can, maintaining my professional veneer even as my thoughts churn beneath the surface.

This storefront, this town—they’ve come to mean more to me than just a potential commission. I’ve grown comfortable in the cozy apartment upstairs, surrounded by Myrtle’s lingering presence. And the time I’ve spent down here with Jessa, and getting to know Rian and the close-knit community he’s a part of… it’s stirred something in me, a longing for connection I didn’t even realize I had.

The tour winds down and the buyers depart with polite smiles and vague promises to be in touch, and I find myself alone in the empty shop, my heels echoing hollowly on the worn floorboards.

Selling this place… it’s going to be harder than I thought. Especially now that I know it has to be to the right person, someone who will honor Myrtle’s legacy and mesh well with the fabric of this quirky, magical town.

Someone who will be a good neighbor to Rian and Jessa.

I sigh, running my fingers along the smooth wood of the counter. My own dreams of partnership at my firm, of proving myself in the human world, seem to pale in comparison to the vibrant life I’ve tasted here. And I know now that my actions, my choice of buyer, will have far-reaching consequences for the residents I’ve come to care for.

It’s a heavy weight, this newfound sense of responsibility. One I never asked for, but now can’t seem to shake.

Myrtle’s shop was more than just a business to her, and now, standing here amidst the herbs and memories, I’m starting to understand why.

There’s magic here. A different kind than the power Velda is helping me hone. It’s a magic born of community, of love woven into the very foundations of this place.

And as much as it scares me, as much as it complicates everything, I’m starting to feel like I can’t turn my back on it.

The next day comes quickly, and with it my first time helping Rian and Jessa for the cooking competition. Inside The Hungry Minotaur’s kitchen, Rian and Jessa are already hard at work when I poke my head in, flour dusting their fur, their faces alight with concentration.

“Natalie!” Jessa exclaims. “Come look at the recipe we’re making for the competition!”

I join them at the counter, peering at the complex dish they’re attempting. It’s a savory pie, packed with herbs and vegetables, the crust an intricate lattice. Jessa’s excitement is infectious, and I find myself grinning as I roll up my sleeves.

“Alright, chef Jessa, put me to work!”

We fall into an easy rhythm, chopping and mixing, and I can’t help but watch the way Rian guides his daughter. His large hands, so powerful, are gentle and precise as he demonstrates the proper way to crimp the pie crust.

“Like this, Jessa. Pinch, fold, pinch, fold.” His deep voice is patient, encouraging.

Jessa’s brow furrows in concentration, her small fingers mimicking his movements. She hangs on his every word, determined to master the technique.

It’s clear that despite Rian’s worries, his daughter still adores him.

I feel a pang in my chest, a mixture of affection and envy. What must it be like, to have a father so present, so invested? Rian is not just an incredible baker but an incredible dad.

And the way he looks in that apron, his muscular arms flexing as he kneads the dough? I bite my lip, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the heat that suddenly twists at my core.

Jessa’s phone pings, breaking the spell. She glances at the screen, her eyes widening.

“Dad! Allegra and Karisse want me to come over. Can I go, please?”

Rian frowns, gesturing to me. “Jessa, we have a guest. Natalie came here specifically to help us prep. It would be rude to leave.”

Jessa’s face falls, and my heart twists. Rian doesn’t understand what Jessa is going through, the way her social life is changing and shifting to orient herself around her friends instead of her family. I remember it all too well, given how desperate I felt to not be left out. How I always was anyway, given my chaos at home, my inability to host friends or even spend much time with them.

My early adolescence was nothing like a normal, idealized version. Jessa deserves to have that, even if her dad has trouble letting go.

“It’s okay,” I interject, trying to sound casual. “I don’t mind. Jessa shouldn’t have to miss out on my account.”

Rian looks at me, his gaze searching. I hold my breath, wondering if I’ve overstepped. It’s his call, after all.

After a long moment, he sighs. “Okay, fine. You can go. But be back by eight, you hear me?”

“Yes! Thanks, Dad!” Jessa’s already untying her apron, her earlier disappointment forgotten. She dashes out of the kitchen, leaving Rian and me alone.

The silence stretches between us, the air suddenly thick with an unnamed feeling."I’m sorry for jumping in like that," I apologize, feeling the need to explain myself, to fill the silence. “It’s just that I remember what it was like at that age, always worried about missing out on things with friends.”

Rian runs a hand over his chin, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right,” he admits. “This is why it’s great having you around, Natalie. There are things about being a tween girl that I just don’t understand, and when I try to parent around my gaps in knowledge, I often end up upsetting her.”

He leans against the counter, his broad shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t want to piss her off. I want to give her independence, truly. But it’s hard to accept that she enjoys being away from me more than she enjoys being with me these days.”

My heart aches for him. I can’t imagine how tough it must be, navigating parenthood alone. My curiosity about his relationship with his wife flares up again. Where is she?

“It’s a normal part of growing up,” I offer gently. “She still loves you, Rian. That won’t change.”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Natalie.” He straightens up, gesturing to the door. “You don’t have to stick around for the prep if you don’t want to. I can handle it from here.”

“No, no,” I insist, shaking my head. “I said I’d help, and I meant it. Let me at least finish up this task.”

I turn back to the spice blend, acutely aware of Rian’s presence beside me. My body hums with his nearness, the heat of him seeping into my skin. I want so badly to reach out and touch him, to feel the strength of his arms around me again.

Trying to distract myself, I focus on the intricate blend of spices before me. My mind wanders to Myrtle and the magical touch she brought to her spice blends that she sold to Rian and other customers.

What must it have been like to infuse each dish with a spark of enchantment, to create flavors that transcend the ordinary?

Lost in thought, I don’t notice the faint glow emanating from my fingertips, the way the spices seem to dance and swirl in response to my touch. It’s only when Rian lets out a grunt of surprise that I realize what’s happening.

I’ve accidentally used my magic to enhance the blend, imbuing it with a shimmering, otherworldly quality.

“Natalie, look!” Rian’s eyes are wide with wonder as he takes a pinch of the enchanted spice and sprinkles it over the simmering pot. The aroma that wafts up is intoxicating, a perfect harmony of flavors that seems to sing on the tongue.

A surge of joy and belonging washes over me. I did that. I created something extraordinary, just like Myrtle.

Rian turns to me, his gaze heavy with awe and something deeper that sends a bolt of heat through me. A pull strikes me, a longing to close the distance between us.

I hesitate, unsure if he feels the same way. After all, last time, he stepped away.

But what if he’s waiting for a signal from me?

I act on impulse, stepping forward, my hands reaching up to cup Rian’s face. His fur is soft beneath my fingers, his skin warm and inviting.

And then I press my lips to his, pouring all the pent-up attraction and longing into this one moment.