Witches Under Way by Debora Geary Page A

in the immediate vicinity.  “Or slept?  She’s totally out of gas.”
    Jennie winced.  “She’s been pushing herself pretty hard.”
    “And you let her?”  Now Ginia’s anger had a target.  “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of her?”
    Ouch.  “She’s a grown woman, sweetie.”
    “Even adults can be stupid sometimes.”  Lizard began to stir under Ginia’s hands.  “She’s waking up now.  Uncle Jamie, pour her some of that disgusting green stuff in my bag.”
    Aervyn skidded to a halt, cookie tin in his hands.  “I have cookies.  They’re a lot better than that yucky green stuff.  Don’t make her drink it, Ginnie.”
    “You’d get cookies because you’re little.”  Ginia wasn’t bending an inch.  “Stupid big people get the green stuff first.”
    Jennie tried to hide her grin.  She knew better than to mess with a healer on the rampage.  And Ginia was right—most witches didn’t want to face the green stuff more than once.  It tasted like a cross between moldy gym socks and three-week-old Chinese takeout.  With a little horseradish thrown in.
    Lizard took one sip and sat up protesting, looking a lot more lively.  “That’s nasty!  I’m fine.  I just got a little too hot or something.”
    Ginia’s eyes were fierce.  “Drink.”
    Lizard’s eyes flared.  Jennie grabbed Lauren’s arm before she could intervene.  Don’t worry—Ginia can hold her own.
    Ha.  I was going to rescue Lizard.  Lauren’s mind was a little amused—and a boatload of guilty.  I knew she was working too hard.
    We all did.  Jennie softened, watching the face-off between her thoroughly pissed delinquent and a nine-year-old healer.  But Ginia’s got a point to make.  We’ll be the second front and make sure it sticks tomorrow.
    “We’re going to have help,” Lauren said softly.  “Look at Elsie.”
    Her other student was a picture of horrified guilt.  Jennie nodded as Lizard, scowling, took another sip of the green goo.  And worried.  Elsie didn’t need any more projects.

Chapter 7

    Jennie tucked the blanket around Melvin’s legs.  “Stay warm this evening, okay?  If you get sick, Elsie’s going to feel really bad for inviting you.”  She wasn’t past using guilt to get him to take it easy for a bit.
    He reached out to touch her cheek.  “Do you really think my wife would let that happen?”
    True.  The woman who had sung on worldwide tour for four decades had a pervasive fear of germs and a well-developed tool chest to ward them off, magical and otherwise.
    Melvin patted the seat beside him.  “Come, sit and chat with me a while.”
    Jennie frowned.  His mind was looking for more than idle conversation, but he wasn’t the only elderly water-balloon fighter in the house.  “I should go help Vero with the tea.”
    “The day has not yet come when she will let you fuss over her.”  Melvin touched his pendant.  “Come—you’ve things to say about your students, and I’ve time to listen.”
    It was no longer a request, polite though his words were—and the events of the afternoon were bouncing around her head.  Jennie sat beside Melvin and searched for a place to begin.  “They’re becoming friends, my two girls.”
    “Yes.”  Melvin handed her a frosted cookie from the plate at his elbow.  “You can use that.”
    “I’m worried about it, actually.  I don’t want Elsie riding to Lizard’s rescue.  That wouldn’t be good for either of them.”
    “And you think it’s likely.”  It wasn’t a question.
    “Don’t you?”  Jennie bit into her cookie, savoring the crunch of gingersnap.  “Elsie’s mellowing, but she was awfully concerned about Lizard today.”
    “Old patterns are hard to break, especially when love is involved.”  Melvin tilted his head, thinking.  “You need to show them new ways to care for each other.  Ones that support their growth, instead of treading old ruts.”
    Jennie listened, well aware she’d just been