Mom’s hazel eyes bore into me as we stepped up on the porch. Her true ginger hair—much more natural-looking than my flaming red—was swept up into a loose bun, and she wore a pastel green shawl over an earthy dress that looked like she took it straight from the 1600s. It was something she did every fall, playing on the tourists’ expectations when the season began. She stood a couple inches shorter than me, but her hugs were no less powerful.
“Lexi, sweetheart, why on Earth didn’t you tell me you were bringing a guest?” She pulled back and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t come by nearly enough, and I’ve been looking forward to this lunch date for a while now.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I said, looking down at my feet. “It was kind of spur-of-the-moment. I’ve been busy.”
She propped her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, eyes moving to Sam. “Is this the gorgeous, panty-melting boss I’ve heard about?”
“Mom!” My voice came out a squeak and Sam snorted back a laugh. The crystal wind chime and several glass jars on a shelf just inside started rattling, but Mom waved her hand and it stopped.
“Well, I can see where Lexi gets her powers from.” Sam held his hand out. “Sam Rivers, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”
She shook it, narrowing her eyes and giving him a brittle smile. “Miranda. And it’s not all from me. You should meet her—”
I threw my hands up toward her, my tone a mix of warning and exasperation. “Mom, please!”
Mom shook his hand and gave him a brittle smile. “I wish Lexi had told me you were coming. I would’ve tidied up a bit.”
We stepped inside and I looked around the spotless house. Her shawls, which usually hung over the back of the armchair, were organized neatly on a rack by the door. Side tables and accent tables were clutter-free, the bottles and jars stored on racks and shelves that lined the rooms. It'd never been this clean when I was growing up, which suggested she knew company was coming.
I hoped that was a good sign. She could easily turn him into a frog or a big lizard if this went sideways. Sam glanced down at me with a raised eyebrow. I shrugged and led him into the kitchen.
Mom already had the table ready, a large covered pot in the center and a third plate set. She was bustling around something boiling on the stove, but it didn’t look like food. A far cry from Sam’s stainless steel, Mom’s kitchen was all dark wood and black cast iron, wood-fired to his electric. She claimed too much electricity interfered with her spells, so she limited what we’d used.
“Something smells delicious,” Sam said.
Mom nodded at the table without looking up. “Spaghetti marinara with white wine and capers. Go ahead, sit down. I’ll be finished with this in a minute, the timing has to be precise.”
I sat across from Sam, watching her work on her potion. “So how did you know about my job?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m your mother.”
“Mom.”
Waving her hands at me, she sighed. “Your father stopped by a week or two ago, told me all about it. I was waiting for you to talk to me, but you never did.”
Guilt landed heavily on my shoulders and I lowered my head. “I didn’t want you to worry. Either of you, really, but you know how Dad is.”
“Why would we worry, sweetheart?" She stirred the large pot but moved her warm gaze to me. “You told me you were bored this semester. If you had the extra time, it only made sense you’d do something to keep from going crazy.”
“I was lucky enough to benefit from it," Sam said, smiling. "She could've easily gone to several museums in Boston for a job and they would've snatched her up in an instant."
Mom eyed him skeptically and nodded. “Oh yes, I’m certain they would have.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, Mrs. Sutton—”
“It’sMiranda, dear,” my mom insisted, “and there’s no Mrs. around here. Her father and I never married.”
Sam inclined his head politely. “Miranda, then, where are you from? Lexi said she grew up here, but your accent is closer to British.”
“Alfriston. It’s a small coastal town just south of London.” Mom removed the pot from the wood stove and set it on an iron trivet on the counter, then took a seat beside me. “I left home barely a teenager thinking London would be better. Made it a year before stowing away to America. Landed in Boston, but Salem called to me. All I had to my name were the clothes on my back and Heidi.”
As if summoned, Heidi came barreling into the room, bell collar jingling as she threw herself against my legs. Heidi was a huge cat who looked like a Maine Coon, but with the enormous paws of a lynx and as big as a medium-sized dog. She was a calico, white with large patches of black and orange, and beautiful green eyes. Heidi was the closest thing I’d ever gotten to a sibling and I’d always considered her as such.
My mom had always told me the story of how my dad, Loki, had actually been trying to seduce Heidi, but he loved my mom’s accent and that was that. I’d never asked my dad about it, becausegross, but it was funny and sounded like something he’d do. Heidi jumped onto my lap, purring and rubbing her head on my chest.
“Beautiful cat,” Sam commented.
“This is my feline sister, Heidi.” I held her up in my arms, showing her off. She tensed, then dropped to the ground and stalked toward Sam.
