Page 14 of The Witching Hours

“Alright. That’s fair. Now answer this, how can my son have inalienable free will, and also be subject to a bargain I make on his behalf?”

Amon snapped his fingers and looked excited. “Now that is the best part. I will come to him when he is thirty years of age and make him an offer to work for me for three years. I will clearly spell out terms. There’ll be no hidden fine print, no pitfalls, no loopholes. He’ll be able to decide for himself.”

Brigid’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Then why am I being offered a choice on his behalf?”

“I’m asking for your permission to approach your son. Nothing more.”

“I see. He’ll be free to choose. And if he says no?”

“His life will proceed as if I was never part of your family history.” Amon set his glass down on the table then it vanished. “Would you like to take the night and think it over?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Enjoy dinner. Get a good night’s sleep because all your troubles will be over when you accept my proposal.” He turned away, but stopped. “Oh. And don’t worry about Kenneth. He’s right as rain.”

Brigid planned to respond, but forgot what she was going to say when he simply disappeared along with the coat that had been left on the ottoman.

“Mom.” Brigid looked up to see Blake and Judd at the door. Judd managed to look curious and suspicious at the same time. Like he knew something. “Who was that guy?” he asked.

She smiled. “Like I told you. It has to do with your dad’s life insurance policy. Are you hungry?”

That was something they could agree on. Kenny heard the ruckus and joined them, still in his pajamas.

Brigid insisted they’d put off dinner for twenty minutes so that Kenny could have a bath and put on clean jammies. Amon had told the truth. Her youngest was right as rain.

It would’ve been impossible not to notice the half dozen chocolate croissants that looked like they’d just been baked by a pastry chef in her kitchen. They were arranged under a crystal cake dome.

The boys complained about sitting at the table together for dinner, something they hadn’t done since Steve’s death, but she could tell the complaining was for show. They secretly liked the exercise in family lifeandthe structure. She asked each one what they were looking forward to about going back to school, about what subject they liked best, about which friends they enjoyed the most and why.

“You people ate like there’s no tomorrow,” Brigid said. “So, I know you don’t have room left for a warm chocolate croissant.” The protests were so loud she had to laugh. “Okay. Go get one. Just one. Each. Put them in the microwave for thirty seconds.”

Blake and Kenny ran off. Judd stayed behind. His gaze was trained on her in an appraising way, looking remarkably intelligent and mature for his age. “Are we celebrating something?”

Brigid shrugged and smiled. “Just dinner with my boys.” It wasn’t a lie. Exactly. Nothing had been decided. Still, she had the distinct feeling that Judd knew, or sensed, something. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“You’ve never made it before.” His answer was clever. And noncommittal.

“It’s an old pub recipe. If you like it, we’ll do it again sometime.”

“Mom, is everything okay?” He looked down at his empty plate then back to her again. “I mean I know everything isn’t okay because Dad’s gone, but you seem worried.”

Suddenly everything in the room shifted into crystal clarity like she could see with microscopic focus. No wonder Amon wanted Judd. He was special. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She’d thought he was an ordinary, cute, well-adjusted kid. Good at sports. Fair at school. Easy to get along with. But there was more. Much more.

“We have some bills to pay, but that’s for your mom to worry about, right? Your job is to go to school, learn all you can, and grow up healthy. There’ll be plenty of time for you to deal with grownup problems when you’re grownup. Mom can handle it. I got my big girl pants on.”

He grinned at that. “You have big girl pants?”

“Somehow it sounds jackassery when you say it.” He giggled. “If you want one of those yummy croissants you better get in there.”

He started toward the kitchen, but stopped. “You want one?”

She had to smile. Her kid was looking out for her. “I would love that. Thank you.”

The story might’ve gone that Brigid tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep that night trying to decide what to do. But that would be somebody else’s story. Truth was, she knew what her answer would be as soon as Amon had revealed the bargain’s details. She didn’t know what was missing, where to look for the fine print, or what loophole had gotten past her. She just knewthat, if she took that deal, she’d never have another moment of peace. If he could get the best of all the banksters and lawyers, he could get the best of her. She’d spend her life dreading Judd’s thirtieth birthday and wishing she could take back what might be the betrayal of her own child.

By the time Amon returned the next day, she’d called a real estate agent and learned that she’d be selling the house in a seller’s market. The realtor assured her she could get a contract to closing before the mortgage holder could foreclose, and that she had enough equity to walk away with a tidy sum. It just so happened to be enough cash to pay off the credit cards, find a rental, and get moved. It was almost as if a decision on the side of righteousness had lent an explosive boost to her luck.

She contacted the golf club and learned that she could sell their membership and it had gone up in value. The office manager gave her a waiting list of people who’d been approved by the membership committee and were eagerly awaiting a spot to come up for sale.

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