She tried not to shake, focusing on what she knew. Fact. It was probably less traumatic than getting on a plane and enduring O'Hare again. Fact. They'd never lost a witch in a transport spell yet, or even so much as a shoe. Fact. She really needed to see Liri and spend a night soothed by hearth and home.
Fact. Her body was about to be hurtled through space by a power not even the people in charge thoroughly understood. Beth clamped her teeth shut. Sometimes, you just needed to jump. "Beam me up, Scotty."
Daniel winked - and then he was gone.
The cold wasn't so awful this time, and her feet hit solid ground before her brain totally dissolved in fear. Beth kept her eyes closed a minute, waiting for things to stop whirling about.
And then she heard Liri's squeal.
Her eyes popped open just as her partner jumped into her arms. Or rather, mashed into the very large bouquet Beth was carrying. "Careful, you'll destroy the flowers." Or the joy exploding out her fingers was going to cook them.
"Mmm." Liri inhaled deeply, still squishing the bouquet between them. "What did you do, rob a florist?"
"Just a garden or two." Helped by three giggly, adorable ten-year-olds.
"It must be glorious." Liri backed up a step and buried her face in the flowers properly this time. "Having this kind of richness around you all year long." She looked toward the window and laughed. "Puts my planter box to shame."
"No, it doesn't." Beth tried to rescue the most mangled of the blooms. "These are a small gift. Those are home."
Her partner looked up, eyes suddenly solemn. "You came home."
"Yes."
Liri took a deep breath. "Are you going back?"
"Yes." Until she answered, Beth hadn't been sure. "I need to be there for a little while yet. But I needed home, too. I needed you."
Liri's cheeks might have been wet, but her smile was a mile wide. "You should have told me you were coming. All I have for dinner is soup."
They'd eaten hundreds of bowls of soup, once upon a time. Part of the scrimping and saving of getting the store started. Beth smiled, warmed by the memories. "Let's take it downstairs and eat by the cash register." It had been their only level surface once - furniture for the apartment had come only after Witchery had been full of inventory.
"I'm putting up the lights - you can help me finish." Liri reached for the flowers, still beaming. "Let's put these in water, and we'll stick them in our display window."
"For winter solstice?" Beth followed her partner out into the narrow hallway, bemused as always by decorating choices stuffed full of illogic. "Wouldn't that make more sense in spring?"
"Solstice is a time of dark." Liri's footsteps sounded quietly on the stairs, feeling her way in the dimness.
Beth made a mental note to replace the bulbs in the crotchety old light fixture before she left.
"But it's also a time to remember that the light comes." Liri opened the door at the foot of the stairs and bathed them both in a luminous glow.
The shimmering dance of a thousand twinkling lights pulled Beth through the door. Her soul wrapped itself in the glow, the blazing warmth of the small fire in the corner, and the delectable smell of cinnamon cookies.
Home.
And German snickerdoodles - Liri's great-grandmother's recipe. "You've been busy."
"Yes." Liri's happy glow matched that of the lights. She reached for a cardboard box sitting on a stool. "But I hadn't quite finished. The last strand is yours."
The lump landed back in Beth's throat. Eleven winters now - and always, the last strand of lights had been hers to put up. A quiet demand in the early years, from a partner who hadn't been content to leave their split of accounting and store merchandizing well enough alone.
And now, one of their most treasured rituals.
That she'd almost missed it had the lump doubling in size. She sat down in a chair, looking around the small shop. Lights twinkled from every possible nook and cranny. In the early years, Liri had left her an obvious spot to decorate - a small shelf or bit of greenery bereft