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She nodded at the cottage. “Looks as if someone has spotted the car.”
His aunt Maggie was at the door. She dried her hands on the flowered apron that she wore, smiling over and waving, her gray-streaked blond hair in a heavy plait over her shoulder.
“They will have known we were on our way before they saw the car.” He went to get out. “Second sight runs in the females of the family.”
“Second sight?” she queried, somewhat nervously, as she closed the car door.
“Yes, er, think crystal ball, but without the ball.”
“Right, crystal ball.” Her expression barely altered, but he could see amusement in her eyes. He had to smile. She was growing in acceptance, even if there was a certain set to her mouth that suggested she thought it was all madness.
“Don’t be nervous, they’ll love you.” He said it to reassure her as they walked up the path toward the rose-draped doorway, but it was true. They would love her.
“Gray, it is good to see you.” Maggie grabbed him around the waist, hugging him tightly, before she turned her attention to Zoë, kissing her on both cheeks in welcome.
“Come in, come in.” She ushered them into the hallway, smiling at Zoë. “Well, isn’t this lovely. You’re very welcome, sweetheart. Ma will be delighted you’re here at last.”
Zoë shot him a querying look after the “at last.”
He shrugged.
Maggie opened the door to the parlor and ushered Zoë in. Grayson was about to follow, when Maggie shut the door behind Zoë. “Let them get to know each other, you and I need to have words, in the kitchen.”
Grayson stared at the shut door for a moment and then nodded his agreement. They always took charge this way, and “words” were what he’d come for, after all. He needed their advice and it was important to visit now, with so much spiritual activity going on along the coast. Zoë could take care of herself, he was sure of that, and her company would mean a lot to Fern.
He followed Maggie into the kitchen, ducking low to get through the doorway. The room was cluttered and small, stacked high with pots and pans and all manner of things hanging from the beamed ceiling. He always felt too large and unwieldy standing here in this house. It was a woman’s house, and even though he was always made to feel welcome, he couldn’t ever imagine growing up here.
There were lace curtains in the windows and potted plants and teapot stands and pretty things that he had no clue what they were supposed to be used for. Where there were ingredients for enchantments, pinned up to a rack overhanging the hob, he felt a bit more in tune, but that was in the minority. It was as if being in their kitchen only echoed the fact that he hadn’t the first clue to how a woman’s mind worked.
Maggie gave him an affectionate, knowing once-over while she filled the kettle and put it on the range. “You and your lady friend are causing quite a stir. Everyone’s talking about you—” she gestured with her hand “—all up and down the coast.”
That wasn’t good. “I’d hoped that I was being discreet about my investigations.”
“It’s not you. It’s that damnable warlock, Davot, or whatever he calls himself these days.” She rolled her eyes. “We haven’t had any discord with the Carbrey coven in years until he turned up like a bad penny, stirring things up.” She looked over at him affectionately. “Something about you has got his back up, that’s for sure.”
She chortled over it.
“You may think this is funny, but I was hoping to pass under his radar.”
“Is that why you haven’t called by these past few months? We know when you’re in Carbrey.”
“The less Davot knows about my connection to the area the better. I try to make good use of the fact that very few people know me well, nor understand my connection to you, and Ma, and the Abernathy witches.”
Maggie patted him on the back as she walked by, which was a stretch, since she was barely over five feet tall. “You are a good lad, looking so positively on your lot.”
It was Grayson who rolled his eyes this time. The way she stated the obvious on that point made him feel like a survivor clinging to a raft.
“So, I guess it would be some advice that you would be looking for?”
What with her innate foresight, Maggie didn’t seem to need to know much about anything. Unlike him. “Yes, Davot has been trying to re-embody Annabel McGraw.””
“And your lady friend would be the poor victim.” The kettle whistled and Maggie filled the largest teapot in the house. There were two dozen teapots to choose from, and the largest didn’t come out often. They were obviously in for a long chat.
“The deed is only half done, but I need to undo it, and fast.”
“You’ll have to use your powers.” She fixed him with a direct stare.
“I’ve had to use them already,” he pointed out, a mite too defensively. There was a part of him that still resisted, that part that didn’t want to betray his father.
