Witches in Flight (42 page)

“Hmph.”
 
Caro’s eyes
twinkled, belying her gruffness.
 
“It’s just a vase.”

Two months ago, Elsie might have believed that.
 
She was a much smarter witch now.
 
“Can I borrow some of your plates if we
run out?”

Caro just rolled her eyes.
 
“You need to ask?”

No.
 
She
didn’t.
 
Elsie grinned—and
then dashed to rescue Aervyn, who was bowing under the weight of an enormous
platter of spaghetti noodles.
 
Jamie appeared two seconds later, shaking his head.
 
“You were supposed to grab the smaller
plate, mighty man.”

“I can port the big one.”
 
Aervyn’s face was a comical mixture of defiance and chagrin.
 
“I guess I just forgot about the
landing part.
 
You need a bigger
table, Elsie-Belsie.”
 
His eyes
brightened.
 
“We can probably bring
Mama’s if you want.”

Elsie shook her head, drinking in the chaotic love that was her
life now.
 
“No thanks, cutie.
 
We’re going to have lots of people in
here.”

He looked around and giggled.
 
“You already have lots of people in here.”

The room rumbled with the everyday energy of Witch Central.
 

Nat stood beside her husband, joy in her eyes.
 
If anyone could guess what was coming
next, Elsie expected it would be her intuitive mentor and friend.
 

Vero hummed an aria and filled a plate of spaghetti for the wise
old man by her side, winking when she saw Elsie looking.
 
Lizard waited behind her in line,
Josh’s arm wrapped casually around her shoulders.

And it wasn’t only witches.
 
Abe waved from a corner, flanked by Colleen and Elliot.
 
Her rotund guitar teacher sat against a
wall quietly strumming, a fascinated group of children already gathering.
 
And Jodi and Marion laughed as the
triplets tried to give Sammy an impromptu crawling lesson.

Her world, gathered in the place of her new dream.

It was time.

Elsie reached down for Aervyn’s hand.
 
“Can you get everyone’s attention for me?”

Judging from the hands clapping over ears all around the room,
she should have added “quietly” to that request.
 
Grinning faces turned her direction—and a few
surprised ones.
 
She needed to
remember that not everyone present was used to witches.

“I wanted to welcome you.”
 
She started, surprised by the sudden lump in her throat.
 
“I started on a journey two months
ago—a wild, scary, wonderful journey.”
 
She looked over at Vero, mischief in her eyes.
 
“It wasn’t at all like the marketing
brochure promised.”

Vero’s rich laugh flowed.
 
“I must have sent you the wrong one, dear.”

“No.”
 
Elsie wasn’t
letting her off that easily.
 
“You
sent me the one that got me started.
 
I’d have run screaming if you’d told me the truth back then.”

Vero’s face was more serious now.
 
“It could have been the truth.
 
The choice to do more was yours.”
 
Laughter returned to her eyes.
 
“We just provided lots of encouragement.”

It was a delicate balance—to create opportunity, to offer,
to push—and still leave the freedom to choose.
 
Elsie took a deep breath, hoping she had the skill to
navigate that path with even a fraction of WitchLight’s grace.
 
“I’ve discovered a lot about who I
am.
 
I’ve learned to be silly and
to be brave.
 
To fly in a pink
spangly leotard and sing passionate arias and play the guitar badly and ride a
bike with no hands.”

She looked around her new space.
 
“But mostly, I’ve learned to dare.
 
It’s a gift, given to me by every single person in this
room.”
 
She held tight to the
fullness of the love on their faces.
 
“And now I want to give that gift to other women.”

She reached for the sheet covering her freshly minted
banner.
 
“Some of you—okay, a
lot of you—were born daring.”
 
Laughter rippled through the room.
 
She grinned and tugged down the sheet.
 
“The rest of us need a little help.”

Emotions stormed into her as she read the poster’s shiny pink
title one more time.
 
Women Who
Dare.
 
And the small print
underneath.
 
An intensive
experience involving public singing, trapeze flying, partner yoga, and the
occasional water-balloon fight.
 
Challenge yourself.
 
Dare.
 
Trust.
 
Fly.
 
Facilitated by Elsie Giannotto—psychologist, trapeze artist, and
really bad guitar player.
 

She turned back to the room, arms open wide.
 
“This is my new dream.
 
And for it to come true, I need your
help.”

Even the new Elsie Giannotto wasn’t entirely prepared for the
stampede that followed.

~ ~ ~

--------------------------------------

To:
[email protected]

From:
Vero Liantro <
[email protected]
>

Subject:
Re: Two in flight.

--------------------------------------

Jennie
dear,

It was a beautiful day.

We’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow.
 
Waffles would be lovely.

Vero

Jennie set the table, inhaling the glorious smell of cinnamon
buns, fresh from the bakery—she knew better than to try to feed Melvin
and Vero her waffles.
 
Strong tea
brewed on the counter, and she’d managed to snag a few hours of sleep after a
long stint in her darkroom.

She was fortifying.
 
And she had no idea why.
 

She kept telling herself that right up until the moment she
looked up and met Melvin’s eyes.
 
If the message in them hadn’t been clear enough, his pastel-striped
shorts and straw hat certainly were.

Jennie stepped forward to kiss his cheeks.
 
“Good morning.
 
You look like you’re headed off on a
vacation.”
 
She turned to Vero,
resplendent in a hot-pink sundress.
 
That wasn’t nearly as shocking as Melvin’s shorts, but it communicated
exactly the same message.

Vero patted her hand.
 
“Breakfast smells glorious, thank you, my dear.
 
It will be a nice send-off—we’re
catching a plane to Tahiti in three hours.”

Tahiti?
 
Jennie led
Melvin over to the table and allowed herself to be distracted by the
details.
 
“There’s no need to
fly.
 
Jamie can easily send you
through Realm.”
 
Even Tahiti must
have Internet by now.

“We enjoy flying.”
 
Melvin smiled and took a seat.
 
“Sometimes a great deal of pleasure comes from the journey.”

That was his nice way of telling her not to avoid the message delivered
by his shorts.
 
Jennie sighed.
 
“How long will you be gone?”

“We’re not sure.”
 
Vero reached for a cinnamon bun, eyes twinkling.
 
She broke it in two and handed half to
her husband.
 
“We plan to
thoroughly enjoy the start of our retirement, and come back when we’re good and
ready.”

Retirement.
 
Jennie
had known since the moment she laid eyes on Melvin’s pastel shorts—and
the word still fractured her heart.
 
It couldn’t possibly be time for them to go.

“We’re retiring while we’re still young enough to enjoy
life.”
 
Vero’s eyes held a world of
understanding—and a bit of a dare.
 
Call the two of them old at your own risk.
 
“And it’s time to leave WitchLight in your extremely capable
hands.”

Jennie shook her head ruefully.
 
“Is this what I get for sending an email saying I think I’m
finished?”

“Yes.”
 
Melvin
reached for his pendant.
 
“But
you’ve been on the path to this moment for twenty-five years.
 
I knew it would likely come the day I
saw the first photograph you ever took.”

Jennie blinked.
 
Her
first picture had been awful.
 
“It
was a badly composed nightmare.”

“Yes.”
 
Melvin
smiled.
 
“It wasn’t the photograph
that held the message.
 
It was your
reaction.
 
You saw its every
wart—and its possibilities.
 
You’ve been trying to take better pictures ever since.
 
In a very real way, that’s what we do
at WitchLight.”

Cinnamon danced across her tongue as Jennie bit into her
breakfast, thinking.
 
She hadn’t
seen this coming—truly, she hadn’t.
 
And she knew why.
 
While
Vero and Melvin still headed WitchLight, she could believe they would live
forever.
 
Her brain had refused to
consider any other possibility.

Vero’s raised eyebrow stopped that line of thinking in its
tracks.
 
Jennie was not yet brave
enough to call Vero old to her face.

Melvin patted her hand.
 
“You’ll do a magnificent job.
 
In many ways, you’re already doing it.
 
Lauren and Nat are splendid guides.
 
This will just formalize it.”

Jennie hoped those two weren’t as ambivalent about their new
official titles as she was about hers.
 
She touched the necklace on her chest and felt the need to grasp at
straws.
 
“Will you still magic the
pendants?”
 

“No.”
 
Melvin’s eyes
were very gentle.
 
“Those are my
magic.
 
Yours is quite different,
and you’ve already been using it.”

Jennie fought the tears gathering in her throat.
 
“I don’t understand.”

Vero reached into her bag, pulled out a small black book, and
pushed it across the table.

Jennie didn’t have to look—she knew a photo album when she
saw one.
 
“My portraits are good,
but they’re not magic.”

Melvin’s eyes danced.
 
“Ah, but they are.”

She was a witch.
 
She knew the difference between power and genius.
 
Her pictures were the latter.
 
“They’re special, yes—but
WitchLight has always used magic to support mentors and students.”
 
Her pendant thrummed in agreement.

“WitchLight will change as the people running it change.”
 
Melvin’s voice oozed the calm certainty
she’d always loved him for.
 
“And
the next person to run WitchLight might well not be a witch at all.
 
Her magic comes entirely in the form of
love.”

Jennie didn’t have to ask.
 
Natalia Sullivan had always had Melvin’s eyes.
 
“I’m just keeping her seat warm, am I?”

His laugh came from clear down in his toes.
 
He reached for her hands, mischief in
his eyes.
 
“Still not a volunteer,
are you?”