Page 1 of Home Is Where the Witch Is
CHAPTER ONE
The smellof fresh earth was the most intoxicating perfume the world over as far as Rosie was concerned. There was just something so special about the rich scent, especially when gilded with the sweetness of early morning dew and the promise of the summer heat hanging in the air. She smiled to herself as she worked, raking the building mess away from the edges of the new version of Fox Cottage.
Rebuilding their lives as quickly as possible had been a priority after Merlin, Morgana, and their wizards were effectively neutralized. They had all been so lucky to come through the war with very little harm to themselves or their loved ones. None of them wanted to waste any time before making the future as bright as it could possibly be.
The new year had brought the winds of change for Rosie, her family, and friends. Moving into the small house on Oak Street had certainly been an adjustment itself. While the house had bigger living spaces than Fox Cottage, it just didn’t carry the same vibe. But Carol-Ann’s vibes were strong, and Rosie loved feeling close to her dear friend.
Speaking of Carol-Ann, thanks to the rather large nest egg she had bequeathed to Rosie in her will, they'd been able to hire out some of the work to make progress on rebuilding Fox Cottage. Having outside contractors made the project seem more legitimate to the rest of Mosswood. Building the whole thing with magic would have been a breeze but explaining to the nosy townsfolk in the area how they had managed to rebuild in such a short amount of time would have been next to impossible.
Rosie had been determined to add the character and history back into the place and had channeled her magic into those elements instead. Mosswood had turned out with big hearts and helping hands, too. Becker and the team at Wood & Wax had straight up given Rosie and Declan a discount on any building supplies they needed, and made it clear they would be happy to order in any materials.
They’d had a brand new cement foundation and steps laid, but the family had foraged in the woods for stones to attach to the sides of the foundation itself to give it back its charm. Every single stone had been placed with intent, and Rosie had carved a few sigils into nondescript places before imbuing the whole foundation with protection magic for good measure.
The bones of the house had been made with heavy-duty steel and not wood like Samuel had originally used back in the day, making it capable of withstanding the next century or more in the very least. Redoing the walls had meant more opportunity to build in more storage, too, which was exciting as all get out. While the clearing was big enough to have allowed them to build the house as big as they wanted, they were all agreed on keeping as close to the original size as possible—with a few necessary amendments, of course.
Rosie had splurged on gorgeous slate shingles for the roof; infinitely fancier than the moss-covered wooden ones that originally had kept the weather off their heads. The new roof was a dark chocolate brown that both looked smart and cozy and blended with the woods surrounding the space beautifully. The effect, when all was said and done, had been breathtaking. Once the frame and roof had been erected, it was easy to see the potential there. The external walls would be siding—to be painted the same pale lemon-yellow Rosie had used on the original building.
But for Rosie, whose love of nature and plants ran through her veins like green blood, the most exciting plans were for the garden. She couldn’t wait to rebuild the greenhouse that was to once again be located just off the kitchen. She was dying to re-grow the Muscadine grape vines, and if she squinted just right she could almost see beautiful burgeoning garden beds hugging the cottage once more.
Rosie sighed happily and finished raking her pile of ‘building glitter’—errant nails, ends of sawn-off wood, stone rubble and small blobs of cement—into a pile for Gabe to collect with his shovel and wheelbarrow on his next lap of the house. Tammy and Maggie were on clean-up duty too. Declan, who’d always been good with his hands, was busy taking the final measurements of the steel support structure ready for wooden wall joists to start going in. They were one step closer to dry-wall, and Rosie was absolutely thrilled.
“Lemme get that,” Gabe said, scooting his barrow over before letting it down to reach for his shovel. His crisp British accent, while still very much evident, did sound a little fuzzy around the edges where he was starting to pick up a little Southern twang. The mingling of the two very different accents made Rosie smile.
“Thanks.” She stood back a minute to let him work, leaning on her rake for a little support while she waited. Being eight months pregnant was a wonderful feeling in many ways for lots of reasons, but it came with a helluva lot of challenges as well. For one, she needed to pee what seemed like every hour on the hour. For another, her belly was huge. She was awfully tempted to ask Gabe to start carrying it around for her in his wheelbarrow. “How’re the other two going?” she asked, peering through the forest of steel trunks through to where Tammy and Maggie were working on other side of the house.
“Tammy has a decent pile that I’ll grab next. I told her to take it easy and that this isn’t a race, but…” He grimaced comically and shrugged.
“I think she’s trying to distract herself,” Rosie said. She knew the feeling. Her own mood swung from being thrilled and excited about the impending arrival of her baby through to dread at theactualimpending arrival of her baby. And she still had six weeks until her due date. While Tammy was technically due in two weeks, realistically the baby could come at any moment. Rosie didn’t blame her a bit for wanting to distract herself.
“Don’t blame her,” Gabe said, voicing Rosie’s thoughts with all the wisdom his grand total of seventeen years on earth could afford. “This all seems bloody uncomfortable.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Rosie laughed.
“And I’m glad I never will,” he grinned back at his step-mom cheekily.
Gabe was getting ready to graduate. He’d really stepped up to help with Nourish, and under Tammy’s tutelage had proven to be a pretty decent cook. Rosie was sure grateful for the help. What with their growing bellies and their aching everythings it had soon become apparent neither she nor Tammy could keep Nourish going in the months up to—and directly after—their babies being born.
“If you choose to have kids later on, I’m sure your partner will make sure you live every moment,” Rosie promised, teasing him.
“As it should be,” Declan called from where he was measuring the new ‘mud-room’ aspect of the front entrance hall. “Takes two to tango. Listenin’ to y’baby-carryin’ troubles is the least we fellas can do.”
Rosie quirked a brow, amusement in the glance she shot in her husband’s direction. He was a good, solid man, and she considered herself incredibly fortunate to have found him. Strong, burly—and then surprisingly sensitive. She thought the leasthecould do was give her endless foot-rubs and fetch her ice-cream at 3am, but she kept those ideas to herself.For now.
Maggie came around the back corner of the house frame, rake abandoned. Taking one look around the group who were chatting, she seemed to have decided it was time for a break. Using the back of her hand to wipe a mere morning’s work from her brow, she let her shoulders sag like the work-weary kid she undoubtedly believed she was.
“Sorry to interrupt. Can I please have a soda, Mom?”
Rosie shook her head. “It’s a little early for soda.”
“It’s a little early for working,” Maggie countered, straightening a little as she prepared to engage in battle.
“It’sdefinitelytoo early for sass.” Rosie leveled a subtle ‘don’t-try-it’ look at her daughter.
Maggie had taken to middle school like a fish to water and had a slew of friends and after-school activities taking up any time she wasn’t spending studying her mundane schoolwork and practicing her magic. Rosie fought back a smile, watching Maggie process that statement and look before readjusting her own thought process. She’d grown up even more in the last five months, maturing enough to manage both her magical abilities and the secrecy witches needed to operate within in a way that made Rosie less anxious for the future. But she was definitely a teen now, with everything that came with it—including the beginnings of an attitude.
“Sorry,” Maggie offered at last, deciding to go with brevity. “Can I? Please?”
Rosie wasn’t about to give in, though. “No soda until after lunch. There’s juice in the cooler, too.”
