That room had windows on three sides and would be an ideal place to do the hot, heavy work of canning in the summer without heating up the rest of the house. The area underneath the counters was filled with boots, gardening tools, and odds and ends.

Last, but not least in Molly’s view, there was the walk-in pantry, the laundry room, and a water closet that had been recently renovated into a tiny bathroom with modern fixtures and a compact shower with a small bench upon which to sit.

Like all Victorian homes, it was an enormous and expensive beauty, and other items and areas glowed with magic, not with the attic’s bright, dangerous sparks, but with a soft, gentle subtlety.

A stained-glass piece hung in a kitchen window, with a circular, repeating design that seemed to go on forever.

A small, rustic-looking broom, tied with a blue ribbon and decorated with spring colors, hung on the wall near the front door. A wrought iron candelabrum sat in the clean fireplace in the reception room, filled with lavender-scented beeswax candles that looked homemade and felt gently, deeply magical.

Outside the french-style doors in the breakfast nook, there was a patio with a round table and chairs. The tabletop was a mosaic of a pentagram, made with pieces of bright polished glass and stone. The pattern was repeated in the flagstone floor of the patio. Farther out in the yard, a large labyrinth made of small white stones spread out over a large yard.

The house would have been a work of art all on its own. With the magic that had been woven over the years into wall art and the everyday furniture and items, there was a complexity about the place, both visually and mentally, that Molly found compelling.

Moving as though her joints pained her, Sarah sat at the kitchen table again. “You’re welcome to stay while you and I get acquainted. I might not suit you as a teacher, and Everwood has its quirks, so not everyone feels comfortable here. You’re the only guest, so please clean your own room and keep up with your bedding and towels. If you find a place in town where you’d like to stay, we can work out when you’ll come up for lessons.”

“Of course. How much do you charge per night?” She frowned. “And would you consider a monthly rate?”

The other woman waved that away. “I’m not going to charge you anything.”

She shook her head. “I can’t stay here for free. I have to pay you something.”