Margie now sat in the big cozy chair beside the crackling fire with Nutmeg curled up on her lap. The rain had finally stopped sometime close to an hour ago. Now her stomach was rumbling, and she was feeling restless with all the uncertainty weighing on her mind. Margie stood up suddenly, sending Nutmeg startled to the floor. She clenched the books “Nordic Symbols and Mythology” and “Timeless Tales” firmly in one arm, scooped up Nutmeg with the other, and headed out of the attic.
Margie had the strangest feeling that she should go back to Glendora’s Brewitchery, and admittedly, the thought of a warm apple cider sounded enticing. Nutmeg was loudly purring as they entered the kitchen and Margie gently set her down in the window nook. Margie sat for a few moments scratching Nutmeg’s ears until she was sleeping contentedly in her kitty bed.
Now, without further delay, she got bundled up to head straight to the Brewitchery. As she stepped outside, the cool night air was invigorating after being cooped up inside all day. Margie had just sat there staring at the Triquetra. Though a part of her hoped that if she looked hard enough, understanding would suddenly dawn on her, and she’d magically have all the answers she was looking for.
Margie stood at the edge of the crosswalk, waiting for traffic, and looked up at the sky. Now that the storm had lifted, the sky was clear, and the moon shone so big and bright that the little lantern-shaped streetlights were almost nonsensical. Margie saw what looked like a shooting star and instinctively made a wish. The star almost seemed to be smiling and winking at her with all the hope in the world. Margie let out a whoosh of breath and pushed ahead with fresh courage as she neared the entrance of the little bookshop cafe.
Margie opened the door and was greeted by the warm fireplace and the smell of apples and toasted pecans. Margie’s nose always did have a knack for picking out various aromas. This particular scent combination had her mouth watering and her stomach rumbling with anticipation. Without pause Margie grabbed a menu and went to sit down over by the fireplace. She was so caught up in reading the day’s special that she jumped when a black cat with the most stunning eyes leapt out of the chair just as she went to sit down.
The cat sat in front of her, assessing her with it’s crystal blue eyes. The cat’s eyes reminded Margie of her great grandmother’s Moonstone ring. Mesmerized by the magnificent creature in front of her, she couldn’t help apologizing for nearly sitting on the poor thing. Then for some reason she felt compelled to tell the cat all about Nutmeg, moving to her family’s ancestral home, and trying to figure out what secrets that this town would unlock for her. Sometime during the confession the cat had decided to trust her and had climbed up onto her lap.
Just as at her previous visit to the brewitchery, Essie seemed to appear without a sound invading Margie’s senses. The air around Margie was once again on fire like a magnetic force field thrumming with molten lava, somehow soothed by the sound of Essie’s laughter as she saw the cat cuddled contentedly on Margie’s lap. She laughed, “I see you’ve met my familiar, Moonlight.” The words, ”my familiar“ echoed in Margie’s mind, as the heat sparked and cracked through her tingling with intuitive understanding.