That straight look held just a little too long. He’d done that on purpose. Apparently a ten-year age difference with an older woman didn’t bother him very much.

“Thanks.” Smiling, she turned to walk up the path with a little extra bounce in her step. Her life might be the definition of complicated, but there was nothing wrong with a little ego boost.

The top half of the door was beveled glass. She admired the handiwork as she knocked and waited. Through it, she caught a blurred glimpse of an old woman moving toward the door just before it opened.

She revised her impression immediately. The woman was not so much old as she was frail. A scarf of soft blue cotton wrapped around her head, and Molly’s heart sank as she took in the implications.

She glanced away at the large foyer. One of her mother’s friends had gone through chemotherapy the previous year, and she had been very sensitive about her hair loss and appearance.

“Well, hello,” the woman said.

“Good evening. I’m Molly. I’m hoping you might have a room available to rent?” she asked. “Colin and Tallulah say hi.”

She offered her hand. The other woman took it, and as their palms came in contact, she sensed an immense Power. It was quiet and strong, honed like Josiah’s, and deep as a well.

She fell into it. And fell, and fell…

Her shocked gaze lifted to the other woman’s face, which was thinner and more lined than the witch’s face from her dreams. But it was indisputably the same woman. Molly stared into her dark, powerful eyes.

“I’m Sarah Randall.” The witch smiled. “It took you long enough to find me. You’d better come in.”

Over the past several weeks, she had gradually lost faith that she would ever meet the witch from her dreams. Now here they stood, face-to-face, and excitement and fear jostled for dominance. “I can’t believe this.”

Sarah Randall laughed. “Moving from the dream world into the physical can be a trip.” She opened the front door and called out, “Sam, would you bring Molly’s luggage in?”

Sam straightened from his weeding. “Sure thing.”

She called over Sarah’s shoulder. “It’s unlocked. Thanks!”

He grinned. “You bet!”

Closing the door, Sarah turned around. “He’s a good boy.”

“Boy?” Molly raised an eyebrow. The mature man outside was nowhere near a boy.

“I held him on my lap when he was not yet a day old,” Sarah told her, eyes twinkling. “So yes, to me, he’s still a boy. Come with me.”

Molly followed her back to the kitchen. She looked around with fascination. “This isn’t like the kitchen in the dream.”

“No? What was that like for you?” Sarah went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea.