A Modern Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,2

in front of him. “Lake view, check. Open and airy main living space, check. Hardwood floors—what is that, Lauren? Bamboo?”

“Yes; random-width bamboo, and it runs through the entire condo,” Lauren said. “I particularly love it in the kitchen. It sets set off the chocolate cabinets and stainless steel beautifully.”

Mitch turned around to take a longer look at the kitchen. “Not sure I’m a big fan of open shelves instead of cabinets. Where do we hide the ugly stuff?”

Kate, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the empty living room floor, glanced up from her sketchpad. “No ugly stuff in my kitchen.”

“Uh, oh,” Mitch said. “That’s her designer voice.”

“We’ll just have to put the ceramic nesting bowls from your Aunt Josephine up for adoption.” Kate eyed Lauren. “A set of five, festooned with hand-painted pink pigs. Interested?”

Mitch winced. “She’ll come to visit and look for them; she always does. Isn’t it impolite to give away wedding gifts?”

Kate grinned at him. “I’m not buying a home to match pink-pig china, even for your favorite great-aunt. Besides, we shouldn’t encourage her; she’ll just give us more. I like the open shelves. I saw some copper-bottom pots the other day in a kitchenware store that would look fabulous up there.”

Lauren had spent enough time with the Greenleys to know Kate’s cooking skills maxed out at toasting bagels.

“Design inspiration,” Mitch whispered. He winked at his wife. “See, I’m not even going to ask why you were in a kitchenware store. I’m learning.”

Kate just giggled.

Mitch turned back to his laptop. “So, sounds like we have ‘modern, well-designed kitchen’ covered, then?” He glanced over at Kate for confirmation.

“Yes, I think so. I like the feel of the space so far. Let’s live dangerously and skip down the list to the master bathroom, shall we? I’m hoping there’s a big, jetted bathtub with a view of the lake.”

Lauren took that as her cue and stepped forward to lead the way into the master suite.

“Again, honey?” She stopped at the concern in Mitch’s voice.

He moved to his wife’s side with impressive speed. “Are you sure you’re not getting the flu? You looked really peaked at home this morning, too.”

“I’m fine. Too many cups of coffee and not enough food today, I guess. Let’s look at the rest of this place, and then you can take me out for a nice dinner. I’m ravenous.”

Mitch shook his head. “Dinner now; you look like a ghost. Lauren, can we come back in the morning to finish the showing?” He put a hand on Kate’s arm to silence her protests.

Hmm, the sexy accountant takes charge, Lauren thought. “Not a problem. The property is vacant, so I’ll just give the listing realtor a quick call and meet you here tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock?”

“Sounds good.” Mitch led Kate toward the door. “I promise we’ll both eat a good breakfast first.”

Kate rolled her eyes at Lauren and waved. She leaned into her husband as they walked toward the elevator. “Will you wash behind my ears, too?”

Lauren didn’t need to hear Mitch’s reply to know it had nothing to do with food. She could feel the sparks of heat and humor from Kate as the elevator doors closed. It looked like there would be time to get to yoga class after all.

…

“Aunt Moira, the Internet was not created by black magic; I promise you.”

“Sure it must be, Sophie, or why won’t it do what I tell it with this wee mousie?”

Sophie reminded herself to brew a little patience tea before Moira’s next long-distance computer lesson. “Let’s try it again. This time, don’t start the login spell until I tell you.”

“Sophie, surely a scrying bowl would be easier, no? Or I could send you Uncle Sean’s two-way mirror—it’s lovely for a cozy chat.”

“I can chat with you that way, Aunt Moira, but we can’t add in Nell, or any of the other witches I hope will join us soon.”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Moira said, “this community of witches you want to build, but are you sure that the Internet is the best place to do it? Witches have managed to find each other without it for thousands of years, you know.”

Sophie grinned. Moira was a hereditary witch, and her sense of tradition ran strong and deep. “I know it’s new and different, Aunt Moira. I wish it were easier for us to find each other these days. How long has it been since you had a student who wasn’t family?”

“You’ve the right of it there, Sophie.” Moira sighed. “We’ve