Page 30 of Boss Witch

“That was the last straw for Mom,” Clem said. “And yet, you learned nothing from forcing her into a hellish marriage that stripped away all her dignity and self-­respect.”

For once, Gram didn’t have a quick answer. She flattened her hands on the counter, and Clem noticed the trammels of time on them—­wrinkled, crepe thin, and the faint dotting of age spots. A slow sigh escaped her, as if she acknowledged Clem had a point.

“Then you think it’s better for her to lose her magic slowly, until she’s as mundane as Minerva. I fear for the future of all witches, truly I do. Hunted and hated by those who remember, our power stolen by those who have forgotten.”

“It’s not black and white. Nothing ever is. People should make their own choices.”

“What would yours be?”

Clem considered the matter seriously. “I would rather be alone than lose my power. When the time comes, I’ll use a witch donor and rely on my coven sisters to help with parenting when I need a break. Over the years, I’m sure I’ll take lovers, whoever they may be, but I won’t give them any control over me.”

Gram reached for her hand, nodding with sharp approval. “That’s a strong choice, one I endorse completely.”

That’s not the point.But she didn’t say it aloud. She’d witnessed too many of her mother’s tears to feel safe turning over the keys to her innermost heart.

What if I choose poorly? I could end up with someone like Barnabas.

“But I’m not the problem, am I? You came to nag me about Danica, and I’m sick of being in the middle. Take your issues directly to her from now on. I’m not intervening and I’m done meddling. It’s her life, do you get that?”

“Fine,” Gram snapped. “Curse me up and down for caring, then.”

Clem half expected the old witch to deploy some version of “you’ll be sorry when I’m gone,” but evidently she had some measure of self-­control. From the way Gram was tapping her nails on the glass, she had something else to say, and Clem wished she’d get on with it. She missed the simpler times when she’d enjoyed the illusions cast for their entertainment: a garden full of fairy lights and fireflies, tiny dragons dancing on the fold of a flower petal. She loved her grandmother, and on some level, it was endearing how much she cared. Clem just wished Gram could learn to be a little more patient and a lot more tolerant.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’d hoped some of your resentment toward your father would’ve died away by now. Because you see—­”

The bell chimed, alerting them to a couple of new arrivals. Gram turned; Clem didn’t have to. Both her hands curled into fists as she recognized her biological father with a woman younger than Clem clinging to his arm, gazing at him as if he held all the brightness of the sun in a summer sky.

“Clementine,” Barnabas exclaimed. “How lovely to catch you on the first try. I’ve come to present your new stepmother.”

***

Gavin was at the coffee klatch again.

He’d wanted to bring Benson along, but it wouldn’t do him any good if the mouse popped out unexpectedly and made the little old ladies hop on chairs and scream. Most likely, the noise would traumatize the little chap.

Amusingly enough, Clem had been right about this gathering. The same faces greeted him today as the first time, allowing him to bypass awkward introductions. Gladys seemed glad to see him, as did Hazel and Howard. Leonard appeared to be withholding judgment, and perversely, that made Gavin want to win the codger over more than ever.

“You’re looking lovely today,” he said to Ethel, who swept in right behind him.

She bustled past with a bulging sack, like he imagined Mrs. Claus would look, if she were also a fan of hippie chic and handmade bracelets. After plunking her bag on the table, she set out the same sort of jewelry she was wearing, and the ladies all leaned forward eagerly.

“Oh, these pendants are new! They’re so pretty. I wish I had your talent,” Hazel said, peering at them wistfully.

Ethel scowled. “Talent is an excuse, and you know it. I’m not naturally gifted. I got better at this because I worked at it, so it’s a pet peeve of mine when people act like I’ve been blessed by the heavens—­that I suddenly started making perfect projects with no effort at all.”

“It was a compliment,” Hazel snapped.

“Sounded more like an excuse,” Leonard muttered, but he quickly crammed a cruller into his mouth, likely not wanting to get sucked further into the bickering.

Gavin found himself oddly charmed by the whole tableau. Because his family was a fractured wreck, he’d spent relatively little time around pensioners like this. Mostly, they’d shouted at him in the village back home or shaken their sticks at unruly teenagers, muttering how the realm was falling to rack and ruin.

“You couldn’t get enough of us,” Gladys cut in. “I’m glad you’re back. Are you looking for work?”

“Not officially,” he said. “I’ve no work permit, so I couldn’t take on a position formally, but if you need help, I’d be happy to turn my hand to whatever job might need doing. Provided I can manage it.”

Suddenly, he had ten pairs of eyes locked on him with varying degrees of interest. Then Howard said, “What are the parameters?”

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