Fisher's Cove.
Sophie closed the door behind the last of the ladies and grinned wryly. "Well, that was interesting."
Nell, Witch Central's lone, but very capable, representative, snickered and swept cookie crumbs into a neat pile on the table. "Which part?"
It had been a bit of a rumble on all fronts. A compromise menu that included lobster stew and Jamie's world-famous spaghetti sauce, fifteen different ideas about how to keep the most connected guy in Fisher's Cove in the dark, and a rather vocal debate about who should provide the entertainment.
Or rather, what they would do if Cassidy Farrell wasn't around in two weeks to do the honors.
Sophie sat down at the table with a sigh. "No one wants her to go."
Nell dusted her neat pile of crumbs off the table. "This might be a crazy question, but has anyone asked her to stay?"
For warriors, the world was so very black and white. Moira cozied her hands around a still-warm cup of tea. "I think she knows she would be welcome here."
"That's different from an invitation." Nell leaned back, frowning. Tilted her head back and forth, studying her two companions. And then started to laugh. "Hold on. You're waiting for Marcus to ask her?"
They were, at that.
Their Berkeley witch had an attack of the giggle-snorts. "Hell will freeze over first."
Moira smiled, well pleased with the nuggets of gossip tucked away in a quiet corner of her heart that said otherwise. "It's often quite chilly in these parts. And I've faith in my nephew."
Two sets of eyes looked at her, one wildly skeptical, the other afraid to hope.
Hmmph. Moira stared them down, hiding her amusement. "Men have asked such questions since the beginning of time. I'm quite sure he can manage."
Nell shook her head, unconvinced. "Not the Marcus Buchanan I know."
"Look more closely," said Moira softly. It was time for the world to open their eyes. "You don't think a man can change? He's a forty-eight-year-old bachelor who can change a diaper as well as anyone in this room."
"Yes." Sophie nodded slowly. "But that's a far cry from asking a grown woman to be a part of your life."
It was. And yet...
Moira assembled her arguments. First, for the healer. Looking at Sophie, she reached out to cup the small bouquet of daffodils sitting by the window. Delivered by Marcus and a wee smiling girl just this morning. "He has new magic emerging. A man halfway through his life." Magic just didn't work that way.
Sophie touched a finger to bright yellow petals and exhaled. "True."
Moira found a small bud, not yet opened, and pushed a tiny trickle of power. She smiled when it opened - these days, that was sometimes in question. "And what does a plant require to bloom?"
Sophie frowned. "Water, sunlight, good roots. Or a touch of magic."
Exactly. "His magic blooms. He's found his water and sunlight and roots." Perhaps a little later than most, but blooming, nonetheless.
Sophie studied the flower. And as she did, hope slowly came to life in her eyes.
Good. One down, one to go. Moira looked over at their warrior witch. "And tell me, how is his gameplay these days?"
Nell blinked. "He hasn't been around Realm for months. Well, except for the duel."
Her students were slow today. "And, what have you noticed in his dueling, then?"
"Huh." Nell was thinking hard now. "I thought it was Ginia's influence. They've been a very creative team. Adaptable. Daring, even. A lot of shifting gears on the fly."
Precisely. "And Marcus is allowing himself to be all of those things." Perhaps pushed and prodded a little by a partner who embodied the word "adaptable," but her nephew was more than capable of digging in his heels.
That he hadn't spoke volumes, at least to one old witch.
Sophie and Nell looked at each other and shrugged. Considering.
Eyes half open - for today, that would have to be good enough. "Give him the benefit of the doubt. I think he might surprise us all."
Nell looked down at her vibrating phone and grinned. "Apparently I have my first chance to find out. Gotta go. Marcus and that rabble-rousing daughter of mine have been spotted near our team's spell cache."
Well, now. Poking a stick at the warrior - quite the bold move. Moira turned for the teapot, hiding a smile.
She didn't believe her nephew was done being bold just yet. If they were very lucky, he'd only just begun.
Sophie sat at the table, not sure whether to stay or go. And somehow hoping the wise woman who had