When she came to awareness, she was sitting at the butcher-block table again while the woman stood at the counter, chopping herbs. This time the woman wore jeans and a black T-shirt, and her graying hair had been piled into a knot on top of her head. Molly glanced out the window. There was no sign of the shaggy blond man. Instead, rain lashed against the glass panes. A storm was rolling in.

“You’re a metaphor, aren’t you?” She huddled into herself. “Something I’ve created. You, this kitchen, and everything in it—it’s some kind of message I’m trying to tell myself.”

The woman’s voice was gentle. “Because everything is all about you?”

“No, of course not! But I’m making this dream up. Right?”

The woman shrugged. “If you say so.”

Uneasily, she shifted and rubbed her bare arms. “If I’m not making it up… You put a spell on me to find you. Why?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Chop-chop-chop. The herbs smelled good and fresh. Molly recognized the pungent, distinct scent of sage.

“What if something happens?” she persisted. “What if the spell breaks? What if I don’t want to come? What if I don’t want to be controlled?”

“The spell will work if you want it to.” The woman gave her a reassuring smile. “And it won’t if you don’t. It’s as simple as that. You’ll find me when you’re ready. Or not. It’s entirely up to you.”

Molly muttered, “I don’t find that at all reassuring.”

Throwing back her head, the woman laughed while outside the window lightning flashed. Then the scene fell away, leaving her even more in the dark than before.

She woke with another headache, and Sunday went from bad to worse.

Early in the morning, she set up the new laptop and portable printer she had purchased. Then she organized the contents of the satchel that contained everything from their safe and started scanning files.

As she worked, she found a set of papers in a folder she’d never seen before. They looked like copies of bank statements, but they were from no bank she knew. And the numbers listed were astronomical—in the millions.

Millions she’d had no idea existed.

A cold chill raised goose bumps along her skin. As a partner, Austin made mid-six figures annually, which was quite a fine income. They owned their house and hadn’t worried about money for a long time.

She could afford to stay in a comfortable hotel, buy nice clothes, and eat good food. She could also afford to take time as she figured out her next steps, and she felt extremely grateful to have her needs met while dealing with the emotional fallout from the end of her marriage.

But those numbers… She couldn’t imagine how he might have gained access to so much money.