My dadisa summer, but he’s dressed like he’s still in cool, crisp coastal Washington. He wears jeans and a red flannel shirt with his usual hiking boots, standing at a respectable pixie height of five feet seven-and-a-half inches. (He’s particular about that half.)
He grins as soon as our eyes meet. With dark, sandy blond hair, laugh lines around his mouth, and an infectious smile, he’s a sight for sore eyes.
My parents’ magic spreads throughout the room, making it happier and so peaceful. Their combined gifts feel like someone just wrapped you up in a warm blanket right from the dryer and then set a squishy, fluffy puppy in your lap.
It feels likehome.
“Go ahead,” Rowan says, taking over my customer for me.
I round the counter and meet them in the middle of the tearoom, hugging them both at the same time. Vaguely, I hear people around us laughing. Even the grumpiest customers are unknowingly affected by our fae gifts.
Mom’s magic smells like warm spices and walks through the woods, and my dad’s is vibrant meadows. Together, they remind me of that brief time between seasons in late August when autumn greets summer, and the days are warm, but the mornings and evenings have a crispness that hints at the cooler weather to come.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say when I pull back, dabbing my eyes with my fingertips, refusing to cry.
“Sorry we’re late,” Dad says. “The fairy rings got a bit crossed, and we ended up in Montenegro.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh.
“I had to check the GPS on my phone to figure out where the heck we were,” Dad says.
“It was beautiful,” Mom sighs. “The fairy ring dropped us on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the Adriatic Sea. Almost made me want to travel.”
“Almost.” Dad’s eyes sparkle. “She hightailed it back into the fairy ring before I could get a good picture.”
“Well.” Mom smooths the front of her shirt. “That’s because we told Kit we would see her soon. I didn’t want her to worry.”
My mother is a notorious homebody, as so many pixies are. She hasn’t left Washington in probably five years, and I don’t take this visit for granted.
“I got a rather decent one, though.” Dad pulls out his cell phone and shows me a photo of a coastal village at sunset. “Not too shabby, huh?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, marveling that they were across the world not even thirty minutes ago.
Mom eyes the growing line of customers at the tea counter. “You’re busy.”
“Fridays and weekends tend to be a little chaotic,” I say.
Her attention catches curiously on Rowan.
Curiouslybecause I haven’t talked about him. At all. I mean, except in owl form. But I left out the fact that he is actually a gorgeous male mage.
She gives me a questioning look. “Why does that nice man look so familiar?”
“That’s Rowan, darling,” Dad says, as if this is common knowledge. “Don’t you remember? We met him when we visited Laverna years ago. He was a teen back then.”
I gape at him, startled that he remembers.
“He still works here?” Mom asks. “Isn’t that nice? I don’t think you’ve mentioned him, Kit.”
“Oh, well?—”
“She’s been busy, my love.” Dad clasps his hands, excited. “Now, where are yourgnomes?” He whispers the last word, aware of the humans’ presence.
“In the tea garden out back.” Even though I’m eager to have him take care of the situation, I add, “But you don’t have to worry about that just yet. I’m sure Mom would like to get settled first.”
“I really would.” She gives Dad a pleading look. “How about we head to the cottage, and then we figure all that out later?”
Dad looks torn—he really loves gnomes. But eventually, his devotion to my mother wins. “As long as Kit doesn’t mind.”
