(This is the final installment in a serial story.
To read “Magic” from the beginning, click here.)
When the group of women arrived at Sarah’s door, it was locked, as she had left it. But while Sarah fumbled for her key, Lupa reached out and turned the knob as easily as if it had been left open. They stepped inside.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” someone said. And it was. The fire was blazing and the room was warm. There were dozens of white pillar candles on the mantle, on the coffee table, on the kitchen table, and even on the kitchen counter. The room flickered in their light.