Sadie's Story Read Free

The reception hall? The cake?”
    â€œYes, but . . .”
    â€œOkay, then. Now let’s turn ourselves around.” She revolved slowly in a circle.
    After a moment’s hesitation, Sadie revolved, too, and then, once they were face-to-face again, said, “I don’t think this is working.”
    As if Sadie’s words were scissors cutting the strings that held the witch up, she sagged. Drooped. Sank to the ground in a puddle of black dress. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. I am an optimist by nature, but I am starting to wonder if I will ever find them.”
    Sadie sat beside her in the grass. “What are you looking for?”
    â€œNot what. Whom. Two whoms. Ethel and Onyx.” Wilson padded over, waded across the witch’s skirt, and climbed into her lap.She scratched him forcefully behind the ears before saying, “The soup should be ready now. We’ll have lunch, and I’ll tell you a story.”
    â€œI’d like that,” Sadie said, hoping she sounded encouraging. “I like stories.” For the first time she noticed the witch’s eyes. Beneath the crinkled lids they were green, the same as her own.
    â€œI do, too, dear. I just wish this one had a happier ending.”

Chapter 4
    No More Llama Drool
    â€œS oup?” The witch held out a teacup from Sadie’s old, blue toy tea set.
    â€œNo, thanks.” Sadie jiggled the smoothie. “This is pretty filling. Dad made it.”
    They were back inside the playhouse, door shut, seated at the little plastic table. Wilson, showing no interest in smoothies orsoup, settled on the baby blanket and began the nap portion of the afternoon.
    â€œIs your father in the potion business, too?”
    Sadie laughed. “It’s just fruit and yogurt.”
    â€œAh, that takes me back to Potions 101. We started with fruit and yogurt.”
    The witch blew on the contents of her teacup to cool it and took a tentative sip. “I know what’s missing!” From somewhere near her feet she produced a worn black bag. She dug around inside it until she pulled out a small glass jar labeled “Oregano.” But when she shook the jar over her cup, only a few dusty green flakes fell out. “Well, that’s a pity,” she said, returning the jar to the bag. “I used to just pop over to Ethel’s for more. We were always running back and forth to eachother’s cottages to borrow things. A pinch of oregano here. A cup of llama drool there.”

    â€œSo your neighbor had llama drool?” Sadie asked as she wiped her purple mustache on her arm.
    The witch nodded. “Neighbor and best friend. Ethel lived right next door to me.”
    â€œIn the forest,” Sadie added.
    â€œIn Milwaukee.”
    â€œIn a gingerbread cottage?”
    â€œHardly.” The witch shivered. “Milwaukee gets cold in the winter. Anyway, Ethel had a nice home and a job she loved.”
    â€œDon’t all witches love their jobs?” said Sadie. “I would.” She wouldn’t mind, say, having the power to make the water in a certain moose-themed lake disappear.
    â€œBeing a witch isn’t a job, it’s a calling. Ethel was a pastry chef.”
    â€œWas?”
    â€œA sad verb, don’t you agree?” A fat black ant crawled across the table onto the witch’s hand and into the folds of her sleeve, reappearing at her collar. With her finger she made an elevator to gently lower the ant back onto the ground.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Sadie murmured, staring down into her smoothie.

    â€œOh no, sweetheart, Ethel didn’t die. Not as far as I know. But she did leave. Left her cottage. Left her job at Cake Charmer. Left me.”
    â€œWhere did she go?”
    â€œWell, it was fall, so I expect she flew south with all the others.”
    â€œAnd there wasn’t enough room for you, so you weren’t invited,” Sadie said, her face growing hot with