A Modern Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,72
identity. “I’m not sure I want to be fodder for witch gossip.”
Moira’s giggles were those of a young girl, and impossible to resist. “Sweetling, you don’t have much choice at this point. We haven’t had a case of witch-powered flight in over two hundred years. That must have been quite the experience.”
Lauren gave in and grinned. “It was unbelievable. I didn’t realize our physical bodies were really flying, which is probably a good thing, but even just thinking it was in my mind…”
Moira reached out for the computer screen, and then looked a little affronted that she couldn’t actually touch Lauren. “Hold on to that joy, my dear. What a gift.”
Nell’s new instant message pinged. The girls were ready.
“Moira,” Lauren said, “I have another surprise for you.”
“Auntie Moira!” Lauren could see three curly heads on one side of her screen, and a very astonished and delighted Moira on the other.
Moira clapped her hands and tried once more to reach through the screen. “Now this must be magic, I’m thinking. Ginia, Shay, Mia, my lovelies!”
Lots of giggles. “It’s not magic, Auntie, just computer code,” Ginia said. “I helped Mama write it.”
“When you’re a witch as old as I am, dear girl, this is pure magic. Lauren, was this your idea?”
Nell’s head popped into the screen with the girls. “It was—and I’m an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.”
Moira’s lips quivered just a little. “It’s a very fine gift you’ve given me today, Lauren.”
Lauren listened to the babble and smiled to herself. No magic needed—just good advice from her first mentor as a realtor. Find out what matters to people, and thank those who help you. Today, it felt solid to remember that not all good deeds required witchcraft.
…
Jamie walked into the kitchen where Lauren was frying a grilled cheese sandwich. Excellent—perhaps he could get food while he popped his question. “Smells awesome. Make me one?”
Lauren jumped, which gave him some idea how distracted she was. Sneaking up on a mind witch was usually pretty difficult.
“Sure,” she said. “Want onions?”
“On a grilled cheese sandwich? Heathen.”
Lauren smirked. “I take it that’s a no.”
Jamie shrugged. “Well, I’ll eat it, but I have very low standards.” In some things, at least.
Sometimes it was better to get right to the point, especially when it was making you a little bit crazy. Jamie took a deep breath. After he let this particular cat out of the bag, he was pretty damn sure there was no way to put it back in.
“I need you to find me an apartment.”
Lauren looked confused. “Why?”
“You’re a realtor, aren’t you? I figured you’d have connections, someone who might know a place that’s available now.”
Communications were still malfunctioning, judging by Lauren’s face. She spoke very slowly, as if doubting his IQ. “My connections are all in Chicago, Jamie. I don’t know anyone out here. Why do you want a new place, anyhow? This is a great house.”
“It’s my parents’ house; I’m just house-sitting. They’ve been in Costa Rica for the last year with my brothers.”
Lauren put the sandwiches on two plates and handed him one. “That’s awesome—what are they all doing in Costa Rica? I’ve always wanted to go there.”
Dang it, could he not keep a simple conversation on track? “My brothers are doctors. They’re building a clinic. But I need you to find me an apartment, fast.”
“Are your parents coming back sooner than you expected?”
“No. I’m going to be in Chicago in two days, and it’s freaking cold there. If you don’t find me an apartment, I’ll probably freeze to death. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy, just something close to downtown.”
Lauren sat down and shook her head, as if that might reboot something critical. “You want an apartment in Chicago.”
For a mind witch, she seemed awfully dense. Then again, there was more than one way to communicate with a mind witch. He reached for Lauren’s hands and held her gaze. “Look.”
Lauren looked. When she surfaced, her face was considerably paler and tears threatened. “Jamie. You need to tell her how you feel.”
“I’m a guy, okay? I need some time. Which we won’t have if you two leave on Tuesday and Nat’s half a continent away. I figure if I come to Chicago for a bit, then we can take it one step at a time.”
“You’ll move across the country for her, but you can’t say three little words?”
Maybe the guy excuse wasn’t the right one. “Precog sucks, Lauren. It’s hard to just let things take their natural course when