“Well,” she drawled, gaze flicking between Celeste and me, “if it isn’t my favorite chaos magnet and the chaos magnet’s offspring. I heard there was a kerfuffle back at the Academy this morning.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “Hi, Stella.”
Stella’s face softened, just slightly. “Hello, darling.”
Celeste’s smile turned shy. “Gideon said he was going for a walk, but the Academy knew he was trying to leave, so it blew him up.”
Stella gasped. “Gideon’s…gone? Blown to smithereens? Well, that was easy.”
I laughed and shook my head. “No, but the steps blew up, and we found him on a pile of rubble, but now he’s at the cottage. It was a compromise I made with the Academy.”
“Sit,” Stella instructed, already gesturing to my usual table by the window. “I’ll bring tea and something that pretends it isn’t cake.”
We slid onto the chairs, and I let myself relax into the familiar creak of the wood, the soft music playing around us, the way the tea shop always made the world feel manageable. Celeste stared at the shelves lined with jars and tins and curious little trinkets like charms, stones, tiny labeled bottles that were definitely not spices, and then she turned back to me, eyes bright with the kind of curiosity that had once fueled a thousand childhood questions.
“Okay,” she said, lowering her voice as if she was about to ask about a scandal. “We need to talk about the frog.”
I tried not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway. “You mean your father.”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “My father, the frog. How did that happen? Because you didn’t do it, right? Everyone keeps saying you didn’t do it, and I believe you, but it also happened right after he was being… him. I know people are saying it’s me…But, I don’t feel magical at all.”
I nodded slowly, watching her as she spoke, watching the way she was trying to fit magic into a brain that had grown up half in it and half outside it.
“You’re the most magical thing on the planet, Celeste. You’re filled with endless joy, hope, and kindness. That’s more magical than any spell.”
“Mom.” She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I smiled and nodded. “I do.”
“So what does that mean?” she asked. “Like… am I a witch now?”
The words hit me so cleanly that I went still.
Not because it wasn’t obviously true, not with my ex-husband currently living his best amphibian life at the Academy, but because Celeste said it the way someone says, I guess I’m left-handed, or I guess I like coffee more than tea. There was no drama, no denial, no desperate grasping for distance.
Just acceptance.
And it felt… natural.
It made me speechless in the oddest way, as if my mind had been prepared for a hundred reactions and none of them included my daughter calmly including herself in the likes of a magical world.
Before I could answer, Stella appeared with a tray, setting down two mugs and a plate of pastries. She watched Celeste with quiet interest, then arched a brow at me.
“Don’t just stare at her, Maeve. It’s unsettling. And I’m a vampire. I know unsettling.”
Celeste laughed, then looked back at me, waiting.
“You might be,” I said softly, finally finding my voice. “Or you might be something magically adjacent, something that expresses itself differently. But yes, Celeste, you have magic. You always have, even if it was sleeping. I did too, and I just didn’t know it.”
Celeste let out a breath, and I could see the way it both thrilled and frightened her.
“And the Academy,” she said, changing tracks quickly, “what is it really like? I know I’ve been there now, but… people keep talking about it like it’s alive. Can I go there instead of college?”
“It is,” I said. “In its own way, but it appears to be for midlife magic.”
“She’s old for her age, dear,” Stella said, glancing at me.
I smiled wryly and shook my head.
