At first glance, she’s every bit the sweet old woman, but bits of her wrinkled white skin are decorated in Celtic tattoos, and her silver hair is done up in a wild bun, the tips dyed fire red.

“Hi, Gran.” I smile as she comes to our side of the counter to kiss my cheek. No kiss, no food.

Colin starts to offer his hand. “Hi, I’m—”

But Gran already has him in her arms. I know from experience there’s nothing better than a hug from her, and Colin melts into it. Gran looks like she might cry, but only steps back with a sad smile.

“I know who you are, lad,” she says gently. “Nora called me last night. A shame to hear about your parents, it was.”

Colin draws himself up, and he reminds me of the boy getting out of the taxi again, trying so hard to look older. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Ballinkay.”

“Call me Gran, dear,” she says, grabbing a clean cloth and tossing it to him. He cradles Max in one arm in order to catch it. “I only wish we’d met under different circumstances. Your parents were some of the finest people I knew, may their souls find peace.”

Colin clutches Max a little closer, but for the most part, he seems okay. Unlike me, Gran always knows what to say.

“We’re going to go sit down, Gran,” I say, guiding Colin through the narrow hall to the back room.

“Food will be up soon, Anna-love!” she calls.

“We didn’t order anything,” Colin says as the hall opens into a cozy sitting area. There are small, mismatched tables scattered around with rose-light candles. Bookcases surround the room, most filled to the brim with an array of mismatched teacups and saucers, the others lined with age-old spell books, journals, and bottles of whiskey older than Gran. Local artists have their work up for sale all over and I scan the pieces as we walk. A drawing of a selkie flicks its tail at us.

I lead Colin to my favorite sketching table in the corner beside the fireplace, which simmers with an enchanted peat fire. If you know how to look for it, the flames will show you faraway lands, but I don’t think what Colin needs right now is more magic. Beside us, the candle-laden window overlooks an outdoor seating area, which seems as if it grew out of the ground together with the vines and flowers. Considering Gran’s many witch friends, it might have.

“No one orders here,” I reply, giving Colin the chair nearest the fire. “Gran knows what you want better than you do.”