There are many ways to activate an amulet. Most require an incantation, usually the one conveniently inscribed on the piece itself, as this one was. As fluent as I am in Hebrew, the first time I ran through the spell I knew it wouldn’t work. I didn’t expect it to. With a new spell, you need at least a few trial runs to get the gist and the cadence of it. By the fourth try, I knew I had it right. Yet Paige continued to click away at her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Maybe I need to be closer,” I said, stepping up behind her.

“It’s only your fourth try. Now, if it were me, we’d be here all day, but even you might need a few—”

Kristof went quiet.

“A few what?” I said.

My voice had taken on a deep contralto pitch, and an accent I’d lost a decade ago. In front of me was a half-finished e-mail message.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

As I spoke, there was an odd catch to my words, a vibration in my chest. It took a second to realize what it was, and when I did, I couldn’t stifle a laugh. I was breathing. I looked down at my hands, still resting on the keyboard, awaiting commands. I saw fingers decorated with silver rings and a white-gold wedding band. Each nail was a quarter-moon sliver, kept practical—short and unpolished.

A car started in the drive below. I jumped up and almost tripped as my knees caught the fabric of a skirt. I looked down. A casual A-line dress, beautifully tailored from soft cotton, and oh-so-feminine. I laughed again. For Paige’s third birthday, I’d bought her the cutest little pair of jean overalls…and the horror on her face had been priceless. After the party, I’d slipped the overalls from the neatly folded pile of gifts, taken them to the store, and exchanged them for a red wool coat with a fake-fur collar and matching muff, and earned myself a heartfelt hug and a grin I’d never forget.

I hurried to the window and looked down just in time to see Paige’s car pull from the driveway. I couldn’t see the driver—presumably Lucas—but when the passenger glanced back toward the house, my heart skipped—and for the first time in three years, I felt it skip.

“Hi, baby,” I whispered.

I pressed my fingertips to the cool windowpane. Savannah glanced up, attention caught by the motion or the figure in the window. She squinted up through the car window, then smiled and waved.

“Alone at last,” said a voice behind me.

Arms wrapped around my waist and swung me in the air. I twisted, right hook at the ready, then saw my attacker.

“Lucas,” I said. “What—uh—” I wriggled out of his grasp and stepped backward. “I thought you were—Good to see you.”