Page 48 of Magical Melee
Or maybe this was a middle-aged crisis gone charmingly wrong.
The emptiness I’d felt when Celeste left for college had only been compounded by the divorce, leaving me feeling like a drifting soul. But here, with a slightly eerie cottage, quirkydecorations in the trees, and the occasional gargoyle, it felt like the beginning of something strange and wonderful.
Around the side of the house, I spotted a bright red scooter and two matching helmets hanging on the handlebars.
I parked behind it and turned off the car as a deep sigh left my body.
This was it. I was fully embracing something that made absolutely no sense.
I climbed out of my car and stepped on the crunchy leaves left behind by a hard frost until I reached the steps to the front door.
The pale autumn sky stretched as far as the pines let me see. The forest seemed to hold its breath with each step I took. Winter would soon be approaching, and I could just imagine myself tucked away in a place like this with snow piled high and the chimney puffing smoke all hours of the day and night.
Excitement crept into my weary bones as I took the last two steps forward. I couldn’t wait to invite my daughter here soon.
Before I had a chance to knock, Stella flung open the door and grinned. Her lipstick matched the scooter and helmet, and I couldn’t help but grin.
In front of me stood the woman who, by all accounts, was a hundred, wearing a red one-piece velour leisure suit that hugged her body like she was twenty. I prayed I’d age as gracefully as her.
“You made it,” she gushed, reaching to squeeze me. “I was worried you’d have second thoughts.”
I chuckled and nodded as she took a step back to reveal Frank in a matching red one-piece. “Should I?”
Stella handed me a large brass key. The heaviness of it rested in my palm as I smiled at the woman who was offering me so many possibilities all based on kindness.
The key's metal warmed quickly in my palm as I glanced down to see a familiar emblem. I gasped as I studied the candle, the flame swirling into the pattern of the brass.
I turned it over, tracing the lines with my thumb, feeling a strange connection to the little cottage before I’d even stepped inside.
“This is the same pattern as the gate in town.” I eyed Stella.
“Very astute of you,” she said, studying me as I stepped inside.
“Does it open that gate as well?”
“Time will tell, won’t it?”
I groaned with a chuckle. After all, I couldn’t be too upset with the woman who’d managed to find me shelter and a job in a matter of a day.
“Here we are,” Stella said with a genuine smile, stepping aside. “Your new home—well, for as long as you want it to be.”
The cottage’s interior was even more enchanting than the outside. Sunlight poured through the round windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. Dust motes danced in the beams of light, adding an ethereal quality to the space. I could hardly believe I’d be living here.
The walls were lined with shelves filled with an assortment of oddities—weathered books with cracked spines, jars of dried herbs and flowers, shiny stones and crystals, and trinkets thatlooked like they’d been plucked from fairy tales. A small hearth was built into one wall, and a tapestry above it embroidered with symbols and stars added a touch of magic to the inviting room.
At the center was a round wooden table, worn smooth from years of use, surrounded by mismatched chairs. A delicate porcelain teapot sat in the middle, along with a collection of cups, each unique and chipped in its own way. I picked up one with a tiny crack along the rim, its faded floral pattern barely visible beneath the wear. It felt rich, like a piece of history I was now part of.
The cottage, while whimsical and inviting, clearly needed some love. A layer of dust coated nearly every surface, and the floors creaked with each step. One of the windows rattled slightly in the wind from a broken latch. The walls had a few patches where the paint or plaster peeled, revealing the stone beneath. A small stack of firewood sat beside the hearth, but it was dwindling and needed to be replenished before the colder months set in.
To one side was a tiny kitchen area with a cast iron gas stove and a sink with brass fixtures that had dulled over time. Dried herbs hung from the rafters above, filling the air with the faint scent of rosemary and lavender. I brushed my fingers over the stove’s metal surface, imagining the warmth that would fill the room from cooking.
For a moment, I pictured Keegan standing there, stirring a pot, filling the air with a sweet aroma from the scent of something simmering on the stove. I blushed from my imagination and cleared my throat. He kept creeping into thoughts when he shouldn’t.
Stella watched me, a knowing smile on her face. “What do you think?”
I turned to her, smiling. “It’s… magical. But it definitely needs some love.”
She nodded, glancing around with a fond look. “Yes, it’s always had a bit of wildness to it. The vines don’t know whether to grow inside or out.”
