Page 5 of Starlight Dreams


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Great-grandma Morgance wasn’t exactlywhat I had expected. I’d seen pictures of her, but they were from when she was young. Tall and with a sturdy, trim build, she still had long red hair like mine, though hers had faded some. She wore it caught up in low chignon, so neat and tidy that it gleamed under the sun. Her hair was long and straight, compared to mine that was long and wavy.

Great-grandma was over 120, but she didn’t look a day over 80. Witches had a longer lifespan than humans, though we usually didn’t live as long as shifters. But we could reach upwards of 170 with good habits and some luck. So, great-grandma still had a ways to go.

She was dressed in a black bouclé skirt-suit. The blazer had a gold military buttons and patch pockets, and came down to her hips. The skirt was a simple pencil skirt. Beneath the blazer, she was wearing a cream-colored satin shirt with a Celtic brooch at the neck. Atop her head, she wore a wide-brimmed hat to match. I felt so underdressed that I might as well have been wearing just my bra and panties.

She gave me the once over, her dark eyes flashing. With a hint of a smile, she held out her arms and I moved in, but she simply air kissed me on both cheeks and then stood back, keeping hold of my hands.

“You’ve grown up to be a pretty thing, I have to say.” Her voice was firm and she squeezed my hands and let go. “Well, are you going to invite me in?”

Flustered, I scrambled out of the way. “Of course. Please come in, Grams.” That was my nickname for her whenever we emailed.

“Thank you.” She was wandering around the living room, inspecting the bookshelves, the furniture, and whatever else her gaze fell on.

“Are your bags in the car?” I asked. Grams had rented a car and driver. “I can get them.”

“Ask the driver to bring them in, please. I assume you can drive and that’s your Equinox out there?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, please give the driver this,” she handed me a credit card. “Tell him to add a fifteen percent gratuity and that I’ll call when I next need his services. I’ll be in the kitchen, putting your kettle on for tea. I assume you have a tea kettle?”

I smothered a laugh. “Yeah, it’s on the stove.” Grams was certainly imperious. But that fit what I knew of her. I headed outside and leaned down by the driver’s window. He was sitting there, checking his phone, looking vaguely bored.

“Hey, can you bring in her luggage? Here’s the credit card and I’m to add a fifteen percent tip.” As I glanced at the fee schedule, it looked about right. $140 for a round trip from Port Townsend. In Seattle, it would be an hourly rate, but over here where rush hour traffic had little meaning, TownCars Limited charged by the actual trip.

“Surely will, ma’am.” The driver ran Grams’s credit card through, the handed the scanner to me so I could add the tip and approve it. I did so, accepting the receipt. He hopped out of the town car and retrieved the three suitcases and three hat boxes in the back, following me back into the house. I showed him the guest room and he set the luggage there, then tipped his hat and left. As he pulled out of the driveway, I realized that there was no going back. Grams was here with me for a couple weeks, come good or ill.

“First things first, my girl,” Grams said once the driver was gone. Her brogue was heavy, but I could understand her. I had a knack with dialects. “Introduce me to your little friend. He scared the color away from my cheeks when he flew up behind me.” She still stared at me impassively, but I caught a twinkle of laughter in her voice.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, I should have told you about him, but I haven’t even told my mother yet and…”

“And you didn’t want to talk in front of her,” Grams said. “Well then, formally introduce us, my bairn. I won’t tell your mother unless you want me to.” She took off her hat and set it on the side table, then unbuttoned her blazer and handed it to me. After hanging it in the foyer closet, I motioned for her to follow me into the kitchen.

Fancypants was sitting on the table, playing with some of the mint leaves I’d brought in earlier. He jumped when he saw me, trying to hide them behind his back.

“Hey, those are for tea. I told you to ask before you touch my herbs!”

“I can’t help it. Mint is like catnip for me. I love the way it smells…and tastes…” Fancypants let out a satisfied chirp, and I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, yes, you love mint. Fancypants, I want you to meet my great-grandmother, Morgance. She’ll be staying with us for awhile. Grams, meet Fancypants.” I turned to my great-grandmother. “I’ll have to get more mint. I was going to make tea for us. I forgot about his mint obsession.”

Grams cracked a smile. “I see. Well, save yourself the trouble. I don’t like mint tea. I’m partial to black currant tea, and strong black tea.” She turned to Fancypants. “Hello, fair dragonette.” After a pause, she added, “My great-granddaughter actually named youFancypants?”

“Unfortunately, yes. At first it annoyed me but now, I’m rather taken with it. I bid you welcome to our household. I trust you had a fair journey?” Fancypants had a degree of respect in his voice that I seldom heard.

“Oh, it was bumpy. Up, down, all around, but what can you expect when you’re thirty-thousand feet up in the air? At least we don’t ride on brooms. That would chafe anyone’s inner thighs.” She laughed, then, robust and full.

My jaw dropped. “What did you say?” Hearing my great-grandmother talk about anybody’s inner thighs seemed so out of character that it took me aback.

“Don’t mistake formality for having no sense of humor, my girl. Anyway, as I was saying, it was a bumpy ride and I’m grateful we made it here safely.” She sat down at the table. “Have you nothing to offer your guest? Mytummok’srumbling.”

“Tummok?” Fancypants asked.

Grams laughed softly. “It’s a word Malcolm, my grandson—Elphyra’s father—used when he was young. He couldn’t pronounce stomach and for the first eight years of his life, pronounced it ‘tummok.’ I picked up the habit. I still use it because it always makes me smile.”

I remembered little about my father, and I certainly didn’t remember this story, but it made me feel closer to Grams. “Father’s death scarred my mother. I never wanted to make her unhappy by asking about him. Now, I barely know what his name was and what he looked like.”

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