I set my coffee cup down on the counter with enough force that the contents splash over the edge. I wouldn’t say I have a temper, but I do have a strong will and an upbringing that taught me to never let someone treat me like a doormat. Since my mother is the driving force behind both, and we’ve gone down this road before whenever she decided to change things in my bar at the Crab Shack, I’m not sure why she stares at me in shock when I put my hands on my hips and speak in a stern tone to her. “Let’s get something straight. I never agreed to let you take my place as the medicine woman of this clan. I am not moving back to Florida. And you’re a guest in my home, so stop criticizing it.”

Her mouth tightens as her gaze narrows in on me. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Why don’t you drink your coffee and let the caffeine kick in?”

“Mother,” I say in a warning tone.

I’m confused by her reaction. She’s usually a straight shooter, and I expected her to fire back at me.

She looks up at the sky as if she’s trying to find patience, and then she looks at me. “Fine. But come on. You hate it here, and my taking over sounded like a good idea to you a couple weeks ago. I thought you’d be happy with my decision. But”—she holds her hand up in a stop position when I open my mouth to object—“I’ll admit I jumped from here to there without talking it over with you first.”

I blow out a breath of air to calm myself now that she’s being reasonable, and to get over the shock that she is. I was geared up for our usual screaming-match version of a fight. I frown and say, “You did.”

“Yes. Please accept my apologies.”

I chuckle, because my mother doesn’t usually concede so quickly. Happy I don’t have to defend myself further, I say, “I accept.”

She smiles at me with pride. “See? I’ve learned something from the last year of therapy. Too bad your father didn’t.”

I raise my eyebrows to warn her not to go there.

Mom frowns at me for a moment. “Oh!” She remembers the pancakes she was making and scoops them off the pan as she asks, “What made you decide to stay? I thought you hated the cold.”

“I did.” I think about the outdoor activities I’ve done with Lance and smile as I grab the butter and maple syrup from the fridge. “But that was before I gave it a chance. Now that I know how to stay warm, I don’t hate winter anymore.”

“I see. Well, that presents a bit of a problem, doesn’t it?”

“How so? Is there a reason both of us can’t live in Maine?” The chairs creak as my mother and I sit down to breakfast.

“Of course we can both live here, but only one of us gets to be the clan’s medicine woman, and I had hoped to take over for you. I don’t suppose you’d want to give it up?”

I shake my head. “I really love my job, Mom. I’m sorry.”

She sighs. Mom seems to be taking this kind of disappointment amazingly well. It makes me wonder if she should have separated from Dad sooner, because I like it.

“Well then,” she says. “I guess I need a new plan, because I’m not moving back to Florida either.”

I take a bite of my pancakes and savor the sweetness. After I swallow the delicious mouthful, I say, “I’m sure any restaurant in town would love to have you.”

“I suppose, but I’m not sure that’s what I want to do. I’d really like to enjoy the weekends for a bit. Do you realize it’s Saturday, and I don’t have to work?” She grins. “What should we do? A movie? Go shopping? How about we go out to dinner?”

I smile at her. “I have to work.” I glance at the clock on the stove. “I have a client coming in an hour.”

“Well, surely you aren’t going to work through the night. We could still do dinner and a movie.”

“We could.” I think about being away from Lance for more than twenty-four hours. It’s not something I want to do. And since I have to tell Mom about him eventually, I say, “But there’s someone I’d like you to meet. What would you say to pizza and a movie in tonight?”

“Aha.” She lifts her coffee cup to take a sip and says, “I knew there was more than a job keeping you here. What’s his name?”

I ignore the slight snark to her tone because thinking about my soul mate fills me with such a glow nothing else can penetrate my joy. “His name is Lance, and Mom, you’re going to love him.”

“Oh my. Look at how dreamy-eyed you are over this guy. He must be something special.”

“He is.” I know I shouldn’t lay it all out there for her, but I’m so in love with Lance I don’t care. “He’s my soul mate.”

“Soul mate. Dawn, that’s not something to be flip about,” she says as she pours more maple syrup over her pancakes. “Most witches never get that.”

“I know, but Mom, I’m sure that’s what he is.” I’m tempted to tell her he’s a werebear too, but I hold back. If she’s questioning the fact I could have found a soul mate, she’s definitely not going to be ready to accept that he also happens to be a werebear.

“Then I guess I need to hear all about this love affair. How did you meet?”

I tell her about falling on the ice and the snow-angel story, which makes her laugh. And then I explain that Lance took it upon himself to make me love winter. I gush on about how I feel, and as I do, I think about my moment of truth when Lance’s spirit bear held my deer one. “I love him so much it’s overwhelming at times.” I begin to tear up.

“Dawn? Are you crying?”

I nod as I regain my composure. “Mom, my feelings for Lance have my heart so full that they overflow.”

She reaches her hand across the table to me, and she’s sincere when she says, “That’s beautiful. Has your guiding spirit spoken to you about this?”

“She has, Mom, and—” I want to tell her that I’ve seen Lance’s too, but then I’ll have to tell her he’s a werebear. “That’s why I’m sure.”

She squints at me. “You’re holding something back, young lady. I can always tell.”

I glance at the clock. “I should really get ready for my client.” I stand up with my plate.

“Fine. You go get ready, and I’ll clean up the kitchen. Then you can help me unload my car until your appointment arrives.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

As I walk out of the kitchen, Mom calls out to me, “Don’t think I won’t find out what you’re not saying!”

She’s right. Because once Lance walks in the house tonight, she’s going to figure out from his size that he’s a werebear, and I won’t have to say a thing. After I get changed, I send Lance a quick text inviting him over for pizza, and then I brace myself to tell my mother what my soul mate really is.

When I get outside to help Mom unload the car, I grab a box, and items rattle in it as I carry it inside. We set the things in the living room for now. As we go out for another trip, I hold the door for her and say, “You’re right I didn’t tell you everything, and it’s because I’m afraid you’re going to freak out.”

“Okay,” she says as she walks to the back of her car. “Then I promise I’ll do my best to keep an open mind and consider everything before I make any rash statements.”

“Good,” I say. She hands me a box as I look into her face so I can judge her reaction. “Lance is a werebear.”

Mom stiffens, and I see turmoil in her eyes, along with something I don’t recognize. Not that I expected her to congratulate me or anything. Finally, she says, “I see why you didn’t want to tell me, but I’m glad you did.” She grabs a box and moves to bring it into the house.

“Mom?” I follow her, and she doesn’t speak as we set our things down. She’s acting so out of character I begin to get worried. “Mom, it’s not like you to say nothing. Why?”

“I can’t,” she says in a strained voice. She takes a deep breath and then acts as if Lance being a werebear really is no big deal to her. “I promised to consider the situation and not to freak out instead of flying off the handle. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Fair enough.” We finish unloading her car in silence, but with each load, she speaks with her movements, and when she drops the last box so that something glass inside breaks, I’m very aware she’s freaking out on the inside.

“Thank you for your help,” says Mom. “I’m going to run some errands and get out of your hair now.”

I want to talk through what she’s thinking, but just then, there’s a knock on my door, so I say to Mom, “I’m done around five. We can talk before Lance comes over.”

She sighs, and sadness fills her voice as she says, “Yes. Let’s do that, honey.”

As I make my way to the kitchen to let my client in, I ponder what the heck just happened. My mother’s emotions flip-flopped so many times I haven’t got a clue what she’s thinking. I expected anger, her stomping around for a day or so as she tried to force things to be the way she wants, and then acceptance of what she can’t change. But what I just got from her was nothing I understand. Maybe therapy did give her a new strategy to cope, but I have a feeling it can’t be anything good.