I nodded. “Forty years to be exact. Any sign of Keegan?”
Ember motioned over her shoulder. “He’s in the lounge, playing catch-up.”
“Thanks.”
The building smelled of pine and a faint tingle of cinnamon.
My heart unexpectedly fluttered at the thought of seeing Keegan, but I reined it in, focusing on the mission. I wanted to find out how my mom was settling in and talk to him about my attending the Academy.
I heard low voices in the lounge and was surprised to see Bella sitting across a table from him.
He looked up as I walked over and smiled as he stood.
“Everything okay?” he asked, giving me a warm hug as Bella stood and did the same.
“Yeah, sort of. I just thought I better visit my mom.” I shrugged. “But I feel guilty because I only want to return to the Academy.”
Bella nodded. “I understand.”
“My mom causing any trouble?” I teased.
“No, but she did seem surprised that my parents weren’t here running the hotel. She was shocked they’d left with everyone else when the curse settled over Stonewick.”
A bartender polishing glasses clanked them as she put them back on the shelf, and I realized how little of this town I’d actually participated in. I could be sipping glasses of wine in a swanky bar instead of chasing down curses.
“Funny, that would surprise her, considering she did the same thing.”
“But she took you with her.”
I nodded slowly, feeling the knot in my stomach. “No, you’re right. She did.”
Keegan eyed me thoughtfully, and his gaze made my stomach flip.
“Maybe something led her here.”
“Maybe.” I nodded, hoping it wasn’t Gideon who had. “I guess I’ll talk to her and see if she’s in the mood for conversation.”
“We’ll be nearby if you need us,” Keegan said.
My chest warmed at his subtle offer of backup. “Thanks. See ya, Bella.”
With that, I walked over to the staircase and made my way up each step, barely noticing the artwork watching me. Usually, the old pictures captivated me, but I was tired. I wanted to get answers. I wanted to be inside the Academy walls.
I reached room 335 and knocked gently. The flutter of nerves heightened in my chest.
After a few moments, the door swung open, revealing my mother’s familiar, careful smile.
“Maeve. Come in, sweetheart.”
The room was covered with vintage botanical prints of flowers and ferns. An ornate writing desk stood beneath a lace-curtained window, and papers were neatly stacked alongside a worn leather-bound notebook, most likely holding the room-service menu.
The bedspread was deep lavender velvet, smooth and meticulously tucked, and a ceramic floral lamp cast a gentle glow over the room.
Mom closed the door behind me and moved with the grace she'd always carried.
But it was impossible not to look at her as a witch, like myself. I still couldn’t fathom why she’d keep such a big part of herself hidden from me for so long.
Okay, so she didn’t want to live in Stonewick, but why hide that she was a witch?
