Annie stood in front of Daniel’s headstone, the cold, late night wind whipping around her.

“Do you think they made it? That they’re together?”

Claire stepped to her side. “Yes, I do.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss him.” She pulled the heart-shaped amethyst out of her jacket pocket, and glanced over at Claire. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“It was a gift, to do with as you wish.”

Annie knelt in front of the stone with Daniel’s name. “I want you to know,” she whispered. “I’m rooting for the happy ending.” She laid the amethyst on the ledge, tears stinging her eyes. “For both of us.”

She closed her eyes when Claire crouched next to her, one hand rubbing her back, a soothing gesture that reminded Annie of Mom.

“You will find your happy ending, Annie. You’re a good person, with a big heart. It’s waiting for you, when you are ready to accept it.”

“Thanks.” She barely got the word out, her tears threatening to overwhelm her.

“I will go, if that’s what you want.”

Still staring at the headstone, Daniel’s name blurred, Annie shook her head. When Claire wrapped one arm around her waist, she gave in to her grief.

Without a word, Claire held her, let her cry herself out. She finally pulled away, more than a little embarrassed.

“I have to go.” She stumbled to her feet.

“You know where to find me, Annie, when you’re ready.” Claire’s quiet voice halted her. “I will always be here for you.”

Those words squeezed her heart. She wanted to turn around, go back to Claire’s store, and open herself to the possibilities of her power. But doubt turned out to be stronger than her want.

She kept going, out of the cemetery, away from the one person who would ever really understand.

It took a few days before Annie had the courage to face Claire again.

She knew she had been monumentally stupid, jumping in front of Beatrice. Then, after all they’d been through, rejecting Claire’s offer of friendship by running away.

Now she stood in front of The Wiche’s Broom, her hands damp, unsure of her welcome. She almost jumped off the sidewalk when the door swung open.

“Are you going to stand out here all day, or are you going to come in?” Claire raised an eyebrow at her, a smile tugging at her mouth.

“Um, come in?”

“Good choice.”

Annie followed her inside, expecting to see it full of customers. Instead, only a few people browsed, glancing over at Annie and nodding.

“I thought you’d be busy.”

“The weeks between Halloween and Thanksgiving tend to be slow, except for my regulars.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “Are they—witches?” She recognized some of them.

“There’s no need to whisper. They know what they are.” With a smile, Claire led her to the front counter. “I have a gift for you, and a question. First, the gift.”

She pulled a beautifully wrapped box out from under the counter and handed it to Annie.

“Do I open it now?”

“I’d like that. Part of the pleasure for me is watching someone open what I’ve given them.”

“Right.” She carefully untied the ribbons, then opened the box and peeked in. “Oh, my God.”

“Your first athame. You will collect more, but I wanted to give you this one. It was my first as well.”

Carefully, Annie lifted the silver and amethyst athame out of the box. It was simple, but beautifully made, the amethyst handle a rich, dark purple. “I don’t—I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you will accept my offer to train you.” Annie met her eyes, surprise and hope surging through her. “You showed me in the Sutherland mansion just how powerful you are, and you need to learn how to control it, how to become the witch you are meant to be.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered. The athame blurred, and she realized that she was about to cry. Again. “Damn—ˮ

“Annie.” Claire’s hand on her wrist stopped her impending escape. “Never be afraid of your emotions. They are tied to your power, and if you don’t let yourself feel them, you can seriously affect your ability.”

“Okay.” She sniffed, and wiped her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to hide when I want a good cry.”

“As long as you have that cry, I’m good with it. Now for my question.” Claire looked nervous. She had never looked nervous. “Will you allow me to explore—being a friend?”

Annie bit back a smile. “We’re already friends, Claire. You can explore all you want, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal. You haven’t really had friends, have you?”

“It is not—my life hasn’t been conducive to friends before now.”

“I’ll be happy to point out your mistakes.”

Claire laughed, shaking her head. “I’m certain you will.” She gathered up the ribbons, avoiding eye contact. “Would you like to stay for lunch? I can order from Lily’s.”

“You’ll never need to ask, not when roast beef sandwiches are involved. Claire.” She waited until Claire looked up, uncertainty in her silver-edged blue eyes. Someday, Annie would have to ask about her heritage; she’d never seen that combination before. “Being friends means that lunch, or dinner, or breakfast, or an ice cream binge, is a given. Got it?”

She took a shaky breath. “Got it. So, lunch?”

Annie smiled. “Sounds great. I’ll buy this time.” She waved off Claire’s protest. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to pay. Especially when we do steak at Billie’s Pub. I’ll go grab lunch.”

Claire’s laughter followed her out of the store, and she nearly danced down the sidewalk to Lily’s small takeout. She was going to train as a witch, and spend time with a woman she admired as much as Mom.

Thought of her didn’t bring on the squeezing ache of grief. Instead, Annie felt warm, and loved. She looked at the athame, still clutched in her hand, and smiled.

“I’m going to be okay, Mom.”

Her life was about to change again. And she had the feeling that Claire Wiche was going to make that life a whole lot of interesting.