Page 107 of The Magic We Made

“Oh, look out, darling!” Gaia sees me touch the pot and looks alarmed. “That’s quite warm. Have you not had shakshuka before?” When I shake my head, unable to speak, she goes on, cheerfully, “Oh, well, you’re in for a treat. It’s always been Ash’s favorite. The trick is to dip the bread into the eggs to break the yolks, then let the gooey golden goodness go all over—well, you’ll see. Coffee, darling?”

I nod. I know it’s rude, but I still don’t trust myself to speak.

“You take it with milk and sugar, don’t you? Here you are.”She slides a cup of coffee in front of me. It is not a cup I own, but a blue-and-white container of the thinnest ceramic imaginable, with a thin band of gold around the rim. “Sweets to the sweet.”

This isexactlywhat Ash said to my mother when he presented her with the jar of honey from the farmers market.

As I stare at the woman, I realize she and Ash not only use similar phrasing but bear a striking physical resemblance to one another, as well. Besides both having brown skin and very dark hair and eyes, they share the same firm jawline and aquiline nose.

Well, and why not? She’s supposed to be his grandmother, after all.

His grandmother who, if any of this is true, is over seven thousand years old.

Impossible. Not only impossible but absurd. And yet...

“Now.” She’s pulling out the chair beside mine and plopping herself down onto it, her own cup of coffee in her hand. “Let’s talk quickly, before he wakes. I always find it’s best to talk while the men aren’t around, don’t you agree? They so often want to monopolize the conversation. So, what do you want to ask me? I’m sure you must have a lot of questions! Ash says that’s what you do for a living, ask people questions.”

“Uh.” I notice she has gold jeweled sandals on her slim, very pretty little feet. The long toenails are painted purple to match her gown. She smells of something woodsy and spicy, unlike my own grandmothers, who always smelled of Noxzema. “Sort of. How—how did you get in here?”

“Oh, I used your key,” she says brightly. “The one you keep at the bottom of the porch light. Is that all right? Don’t worry, I won’t make a habit of it. I will absolutely respect your privacy in the future.” She pronounces it prih-va-cy, without the longi.I don’t think that’s something I’d hallucinate, any more than I’d hallucinate the external stimulus of a hot pot of shakshuka. “But Idolike to check in on my favorite offspring when I know they’ve been struggling. Ash may not seem like it, but he’s quite sensitive, you know. And he likes you.” She smiles and wags a heavily ringed finger at me. “He likes you very much!”

“Uh... I like him, too. But—”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” She claps her slim brown hands, and the gold bangles around her wrists tinkle musically. “I quite thought so, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think you’d go through everything you did last night if you didn’t like him at least a little. That swim! Oh, my sweet Francesca, how I worried for you! But I needn’t have. You’re a very strong woman, aren’t you? And I do hope Hecate didn’t frighten you too much. It’s not her fault, poor darling, she’s always been very shy. And she’s never been a good sleeper. Whenever anyone wakes her, she gets quite grumpy.” Gaia sips her coffee while looking worriedly at the food. “Do you suppose we should wake Ash?He’sa good sleeper, and there’s nothing worse than cold shakshuka.”

“In a minute.”

This is real. This is no hallucination. This is really happening, just like last night really happened.

And now I know why she looks so familiar to me. It isn’t because of her resemblance to Ash—although it’s true, the two look very much related.

It’s because of what Richard told me he saw that night at the courthouse. A very small witch, he’d said. Or rather, a deity, withshort dark hair cut in a sort of bob, and brown skin, dressed all in purple.

“Were you at the West Harbor tricentennial celebration at the courthouse last year?” I ask. “Because my ex swears he saw you.”

Gaia laughs. The sound of her laughter is like a soft breeze through a wind chime in the summertime, lush and musical and delightful.

“Yes! Yes, I was! I’m afraid I couldn’t stay for the whole thing. But I did pop in for a moment and bumped into your Richard... poor man. He’s really quite high-strung, isn’t he? And so sensitive! Not very go-with-the-flow, as you young people like to call it.”

I shake my head. “No. No, he isn’t.”

“I’m sorry if I frightened him,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “And I do try not to interfere in the lives of you mortals. But really, I think my little push to encourage that poor man to do what he really loves did him a world of good. He got out of his shell, and so did you—and now you both have the opportunity to be happy with someone you truly care about.”

And there it is. I’m surprised. I didn’t expect her to confess to it... at least, not this soon.

“So you admit it.” I eye her. “You purposefully broke up my marriage so that I’d be free to date your grandson?”

She laughs like this is the best joke she’s ever heard. “No, not at all! All I did was encourage that poor, unhappy fellow to follow his dream. Did I have a fairly good idea what that dream was, and that you would not wish to accompany him as he followed it? Yes. Was I wrong about that?”

“No. I can’t leave my patients to sail around the world.”

“That’s what I thought. That’s why I like you, Francesca, besides the fact that you saved the life of my favorite grandson. You’re a very caring and conscientious person. I’m so glad—”

“But you only met me five minutes ago,” I cry. “You might have magical powers—” I gesture toward the food on the table in front of me. “It’s kind of hard to deny it. But how could you know that if Richard and I divorced, your grandson and I would fall in love?”

Her face softens as she smiles at me like the kindly—and deadly—grandmother that she is.

“Ah,” she says. “So youdolove him? Then please do me a favor and tell him. He’s a very sweet boy, and—”