Kitchen Witch

3 | Posh Puzzles (Stonebridge-Flashback)

Charlotte was hurrying to pick up and hide away any evidence of young children living in the house and, god forbid, playing. The irony of doing so to prepare for the playdate group about to arrive in 20 min was not lost on her. The trail of doll clothes, random fairy wands, tiaras, plastic jewelry and books all swept and tucked away. In their place, a carefully curated set of activities would be laid out for the children to sort, build, and experiment with. All are made of wooden or natural materials to "encourage their creativity." God forbid a plastic tea cup inspires a princess tea. The girls wore colour-coordinating outfits from the latest Etsy shop, hair braided into bubble braids, and the last remnants of anything sticky wiped off their sweet, chubby fingers. Charlie had been banished to his crate in the basement, and Charlotte made one last sweep of the floor for stray dog hair.

Right on cue, the doorbell rang at 10 am; she did a quick once over in the hall mirror, taking in her all-black Lulu-aligned armour of leggings, tank, and define jacket, which perfectly displayed the evidence of five days a week at the gym. Despite the summer heat outside, she dared not wear just a tank top. He disapproved of her showing her arms. Charlotte didn't understand, as her weekly yoga practice and Chaturanga Dandasana had chiselled her arms. "Bare arms weren't fitting for a woman of her age." It didn't matter anyway since he also refused to allow the windows to open, and the air conditioner was set to a precise 19C. Charlotte felt that familiar knot of anxiety poking at her, which she poked back with by reassuringly poking at her hip bones and hurried to get to the door as a whirlwind of over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived mothers and children charged into 97 Blackshire Lane.

The children were set up in their "exploratory learning environments," and the women were set up in the big, gleaming white kitchen. The group of women weren't that bad; most of them were struggling to maintain some semblance of self, lost in the pressures of suburban motherhood. There was this necessity to define yourself, to place your piece neatly into the puzzle of life. Mother, Wife, Runner, Keto dieter, Mary Kay Emerald Consultant there was a need to cover yourself in a label of some sort. As stay-at-home mothers, the sense of self became even more muddled, and that need to label extended toward your children. The children being compared accolades stacked, and always doubting their own decisions. All of this was swirling around Charlotte's brain as she made quick work of setting out tea for the group.

Charlotte's tea was famous, so much so that venti Starbucks cups were left in the cars to cool. Teacups and saucers were chosen from the one cupboard in the kitchen where the items were not all sterile white. From this cupboard exploded a collection of chipped and gilded cups carefully collected over the years. Charlotte had a love of collecting old tea cups from second-hand shops, estate sales, and, yes, even yard sales. It was as if the tea cups spoke to her, each telling a story and asking to come home with her. He hated her collection, had requested, no demanded on many occasions that she get rid of it or pack it up into a box to be banished to the basement. But this was one of the few things Charlotte held her ground on; this was hers. 

She stood surveying the group, humming under her breath, and chose each of their cups for today's tea. The tiny bluebell print for Kelly because it reminded her of Kelly's tiny, delicate stature. Kelly was the shortest in the group, just barely 5 feet, but mighty in her exuberant and sweet personality. The yellow sunflowers for Heather are the tall, robust stems paired with Heather's tall stature, dark hair, and big, beautiful eyes. Deep, rich purple mums on bone china were chosen for none other than the regal Martha. 

Charlotte sighed under her breath as she glanced over at Martha, who was listening to one of Kelly's misadventures with the boys, with her tell-tale look of distaste as though she had just smelled something unpleasant. Martha, most definitely had that resting bitch face, as her youngest Airlie would call it. Charlotte bit her lip and held back a grin, shocked at her own thoughts. Martha had this way of making you feel like you were under a microscope being cataloged; it was unnerving and took getting used to.

Lastly, Charlotte pulled down the purple lupins for herself. The tea itself was a special blend of herbs and even some flower petals that she dried herself. She would make up various blends, humming away like an artist creating various moods in their paintings. Today, she added some extra little buds of lavender specially dried from her pot on the back porch. She stirred them clockwise while imagining their calming aroma spreading throughout the room.

Kelly picked up the dainty cup, breathing in the sweet aroma. "Charlotte, I don't know what kind of magic you have, but your tea just has a way of making everything seem okay. ''

Martha nodded her approval, turning her pinched nose up. "I don't know if it's the novelty of your funny little Hod Podge teacup collection or some magic ingredient you keep secret, but I actually enjoy this weekly tea." 

That was Martha for you; it was a little jab and compliment at the same time. The group of women visibly relaxed and giggled at Martha's comment as they headed into the living room to check on the children. They settled into their usual spots and began to chatter. Charlotte couldn't help but notice just how calm and content everyone was, including the children. A sharp contrast to the rambunctious chaos that had first poured into the house. Her daughter Airlie and Martha's son Alex sat side by side, building together. Could the damn wooden blocks that were currently being built into an elaborate town of houses be "fostering a calm and creative environment," or was there, as Maratha suggested, something magical about the tea. 

Charlotte giggled to herself at the same time as she noticed a warm breeze pass her cheek. Noticeably strange given the air con and closed windows. Quietly, she excused herself, feigning the need to use the washroom. "Surely one of the children hadn't opened a window?" She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously. The large black framed windows in the living room were closed; she wandered down the hall; nothing was amiss, not a carefully curated decorative item askew. Charlotte followed the gleaming wooden floors toward the front hall and discovered the reason for the rogue breeze. Somehow, the front door had not fully been shut when the chaos of the group had ascended upon the house. She firmly shut the door and leaned back against it, trying to reassure herself against the waves of guilt. 

Her mind played over every possible horrible outcome that could have happened. Charlotte took two slow inhales through the nose and let it out just as slowly through pursed lips, thankful none of the children had wandered out while they were in the kitchen. She should have been more careful when they arrived. Why hadn't she double-checked the door? What would people think if she had let something happen? She could picture the looks of the neighbours and his reaction. Wringing her wrist with her thumb and ring finger, a reassuring measurement, she pulled her jacket sleeves down to cover her hands and walked back to the group.