I forced myself back to my actual work, though my focus was shot to pieces.
My laptop looked back at me, blankly unimpressed. I zipped through my tasks. First, recusal paperwork for the Meyer site, timestamped Thursday at 10:53 a.m., filed and acknowledged by half the bureaucracy in the state. I'd even doubled up with the conflict-of-interest disclosure, just to be bulletproof. The subject line "NRCS ETHICS: REQUIRED COI" flashed at me like the world's most boring emergency beacon.
At least something was going right. This would cover the conflict of interest that living in Chance's house created for the samples I'd take in the future.
Underneath that avalanche, newstuff from my field team rolled in. They were already out at the stream near my rental, collecting baseline samples and prepping the test plots. My group had flagged turbidity spikes upstream and a suspicious nitrate bump near an old cattle pasture. "Weather's holding, will have composite samples by end of day." I replied, thanked them, and said I'd QA the data as soon as I could. I tabbed through the charts. All color-coded and perfectly organized. My comfort zone.
Next up, confirming the girls' remote school enrollment for spring now, too. Laurel Gap's county registrar had sent the confirmation. Both twins registered through the spring semester, online syllabus mapped out and ready. I printed their schedules, just in case, then tried not to think about what might come after January. No point getting ahead of myself.
My phone vibrated, nearly skittering off the table.
Gerty.
I picked up, bracing for a story about cat litter or Florida traffic.
"Hey, stranger," I said. "What's up?"
Her voice came through like static. "Open your door. I'm literally standing on your front porch."
I nearly dropped the phone. "You're on my porch?"
"Yup. Two duffels, a portfolio case, and one existentialcrisis. Does the rental come with coffee, or do I have to beg?"
I barked a laugh full of nerves, not humor. "There's a key. Frog statue by the flowerbed."
I heard her rooting around, then a muffled, "Found it!"
"You need a place to stay?" I asked, still not believing it.
"That's the rumor. Can I crash for a while? I promise not to judge your cleaning habits unless you pay me for a consult."
I didn't hesitate. "Of course. Make yourself at home. Just don't trip over moving boxes. I left a deathtrap by the front closet."
She laughed. "I've survived worse. When do you think you'll be back?"
"I'll text, I'm not sure," I said, trying to figure out what to tell her and Beth.
Chance, Livia, and Maeve had all emphasized the need for secrecy.
We hung up, but my brain was spinning. Gerty. Here early, in Laurel Gap, ready to stay for a while. What had happened?
I shoved the laptop shut and tried to remember if I'd left any clean towels at the house.
Through the window, Mere held fire again.This time, she let the flame fizzle into a puff of smoke, then beamed at Maeve. The wild pride I'd felt earlier doubled, then tripled. This wasn't just magic, it was hope, for both my girls.
I pulled the door open and stepped into the yard, the brittle grass crunching under my boots. Maeve caught me first.
"Heading out?" Her cheeks were pink from the wind and excitement. "If you're not back in five minutes, we'll assume you were abducted by aliens."
Mere giggled, tucking her hands behind her back. "Don't worry, Mom. I've got firepower now."
I hugged her, a real hug, not the helicopter-mom "stay alive" squeeze. "I'll be back in a bit, okay? Don't let Maeve talk you into running off to a witch academy or something drastic like that."
"No problem," Maeve promised. "Boarding school would be boring."
Huey escorted me to the car, tail up like he was ready for a road trip.
I took one more look over my shoulder. Maeve talked with Mere, both of them already plotting their next spell. For the first time in years, there wasn't a single coil of panic in my chest about leaving her and Fifi.
