As she gathered the ingredients, Mandy's gaze kept drifting back toward the living room. That tea table he'd conjured up, with the lovely tea service, was still there - a tangible reminder that this had not all been some medication-induced dream. She paused, contemplating the glasses that had held their tea. They should probably be washed.
Mandy filled the sink with warm, soapy water and set to work, her fingers moving with practiced ease. The familiar motions of washing and rinsing the glasses helped steady her racing thoughts. Part of her still expected to wake up at any moment, her writer's imagination having run wild.
Yet the evidence surrounded her. Amazement may war with disbelief, but there was no denying that this was her new reality.Magic was real, and she had been entrusted with the gift of three wishes.
The weight of that gift settled heavily upon her. What if she chose wrong? What if her words were twisted, like the story of King Midas? Unsurprisingly, her brain immediately began spinning out worst-case scenarios, each one more horrifying than the last. She hated - really hated - that she did that, but she'd never been able to figure out how to stop her mind from going down these imaginary dark rabbit holes. Mandy's hands shook as she set the glasses on the drying rack, her appetite vanishing.
Finished washing up, Mandy leaned against the kitchen counter, her gaze fixed on the living room. The ornate tea table sat there, a silent witness to the life-changing events that had just unfolded. She couldn't help but wonder what Kieran was doing now. Was he hanging about somewhere nearby, waiting for her to summon him, to make her first wish? Or had he returned to the magical realm from whence he came?
She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to quiet the anxious chatter in her mind. "Okay, Mandy," she murmured to herself, "one step at a time. First, you need to eat something." Her stomach growled in agreement, reminding her of the spaghetti ingredients waiting on the counter.
Mandy pressed the defrost button on the microwave, watching the turntable begin its slow rotation with the package of ground beef. A soft thud behind her made her shoulders tense - that familiar sound of cat paws landing on the kitchen island.
"Mozart, get down from there." She turned, ready to shoo the orange troublemaker off the counter for the thousandth time. The Battle of the Kitchen Counter was an ongoing effort. "You know better than that."
But Mozart wasn't looking at her. His green eyes were fixed intently down the hallway, ears pricked forward and tailpuffed to twice its normal size. Bach who had retreated to the cat tree when Mandy got up, lifted his head, his ears up and eyes alert. Both cats crouched low, their attention laser-focused on something in the hallway that Mandy couldn't see from her position by the sink. Even their whiskers pointed forward, quivering with intensity.
The air seemed to shimmer, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. A moment later, a head peered cautiously around the corner, long black hair spilling over one shoulder. Jacinth's chocolate brown eyes scanned the living room before meeting Mandy's gaze.
"Is he gone?" she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of mischief and caution that made Mandy think of a child checking if the coast was clear after some elaborate prank.
A giggle bubbled up from Mandy's chest, the absurdity of the situation hitting her all at once. "Yes, Kieran's gone."
Jacinth's entire demeanor changed instantly. She bounded into the kitchen with the grace of a dancer, sliding onto one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. Dressed in the same outfit she'd had on earlier, she managed to look completely at home in Mandy's modest kitchen.
Mozart abandoned his watchful position to investigate the visitor, while Bach went back to sleep on the cat tree, apparently deciding nothing was worth interrupting his nap for.
Jacinth leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling with interest as she examined the ingredients scattered across the counter. "What are we making for dinner?"
The casual way she included herself in Mandy's dinner plans should have felt presumptuous. Instead, it felt natural, as if having a centuries-old Djinn invite herself to dinner was perfectly normal. Mandy supposed her definition of "normal" would need some serious updating after today.
"Spaghetti," Mandy said, gesturing to the box of spaghetti to one side.
Jacinth nodded solemnly, her dark eyes reflecting understanding. "Comfort food," she said, as if the concept was as universal as breathing.
The Djinn's matter-of-fact acceptance of human needs surprised Mandy. She'd expected magical beings to be more... well, otherworldly. Less understanding of mundane human coping mechanisms like stress-eating pasta.
"Do you have garlic bread to go with it?" Jacinth asked, her eyes scanning the counter hopefully.
"Well, no." Mandy gestured vaguely at the living room where the table Kieran had conjured still reposed in front of her recliner. "I hadn't exactly had a chance to plan ahead, what with the whole ER visit, sleeping away the day, the night, and half the next day, and then the whole magical revelations thing."
Jacinth's lips curved into a knowing smile. With a graceful wave of her hand, reminiscent of Kieran's gestures, a perfectly formed loaf of garlic bread materialized on the counter, wrapped in crisp paper and emanating the mouthwatering aroma of butter and herbs.
"There," Jacinth said, looking pleased with herself. "It just needs to be toasted in the oven."
Mandy stared at the bread, struggling to process how casually Jacinth had just defied the laws of physics. She shook her head. Still, she loved garlic bread, and she wasn't going to look a gift loaf in the mouth. A snicker escaped her at her own butchering of the old saying.
Retrieving the now-defrosted ground beef from the microwave, Mandy dropped it into the waiting skillet. The meat sizzled as it hit the hot surface. Grabbing an onion from the basket on her counter, she perched on her wooden kitchen stool and began chopping it with practiced efficiency. A few cloves ofgarlic followed, their pungent aroma mixing with the browning beef.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Jacinth scratching Mozart behind his ears, the cat purring loud enough to be heard over the sizzling pan. He'd made himself right at home on the kitchen counter - exactly where he wasn't supposed to be.
Mandy rolled her eyes. "That's Mozart you're petting. The lazy one sprawled out on the cat tree is Bach."
Jacinth glanced between the two orange cats, her brow furrowing slightly. "How do you tell them apart? They look identical."
"Not quite." Mandy stirred the meat mixture, breaking up the larger chunks with her spatula. "Bach has four white mittened paws - when he's up and about, you can see them. But Mozart has that fluffy white chest ruff." She gestured toward the cat still soaking up Jacinth's attention. "Plus, Mozart's the troublemaker. Bach's too lazy to get into much mischief."
Mandy placed a lid on the skillet of sauce, and adjusted the heat to low, watching the sauce settle into a gentle simmer through the glass of the lid.
