“Only Baldwin thought it was a good idea,” I assured him.
“That guy has got to learn to relax,” Chris said. “Now that I’m a knight, and have to talk to him occasionally, I’ve learned he has no life outside of what he thinks is his duty to his father’s memory.”
“We talked a lot about fathers and sons this summer,” I said. “And mothers and daughters, too. In the end, even Baldwin came around on the twins’ spellbinding. As for the magic, well, story time is really fun at our house.” I wiggled my fingers in the air in an imitation of how humans thought witches worked their magic.
“You mean—you’re doing magic in front of them?” Chris looked shocked. Then he smiled. “Cool. So is the griffin yours? Did you conjure him up for the children to play with?”
“No, he belongs to Philip.” I looked at my son with pride. “He seems to be an early bloomer, magic-wise. And a promising witch, too.”
“And how did you get Apollo here?” Chris said, concerned only with the practicalities, not the bigger question of how a mythological creature came to be living in New Haven. “Does he have his own passport?”
“It turns out you can’t send a griffin on commercial aircraft,” I said, indignant. “I checked both cat and bird on the form, and they just returned it to me and told me to correct my mistakes.”
“Sore subject,” Matthew murmured to Chris, who nodded in sympathy.
“We could get Ardwinna onto a plane, and she’s twice his size. I don’t see why we couldn’t just smuggle him on board in a dog carrier,” I grumbled.
“Because he’s a griffin?” Chris said. I glared at him. “Just a suggestion.”
“I would have used a disguising spell, obviously.” I lifted Philip into his booster seat and delivered the beets and beef to him. He tucked into his dinner with enthusiasm. Becca wanted only blood and water, so I let her have it in a sippy cup on the floor. She sat next to Ardwinna to drink it, watching the dog chew her bone.
“Obviously.” Chris grinned.
“I’ll have you know Apollo makes a convincing Labrador retriever,” I said. “He’s been a good boy in the dog park, when we’ve taken him with Ardwinna.”
Chris choked on his beer, then quickly recovered.
“I imagine he’s got good hang time, what with his wingspan. He might like a game of Frisbee.” As usual, Chris took the idiosyncracies of our family in stride. “I’d be happy to play with him, if you’re too busy.”
Matthew took a platter of steaks out of the fridge. He kissed me as he passed by, this time on the nape of my neck. “I’m headed outside to grill these. How do you like your steak, Chris?”
“Just walk it through a warm room, my friend,” Chris replied.
“Good man,” Matthew said. “My sentiments exactly.”
“Walk a bit more slowly through that warm room with mine,” I reminded him.
“Savage.” Matthew grinned.
“So Phoebe and Marcus made it to the big day,” Chris said.
“Their official reunion was three days ago,” I said. “Though of course they had already seen each other.”
“Sounds like things got a bit complicated for a while, what with her father’s illness,” Chris commented.
“We were all sure it would work out,” I replied.
“You two seem good,” Chris said, gesturing with his beer in Matthew’s direction.
“On balance, it was a lovely summer,” I said, thinking back over all that had happened. “No work got done, of course.”
“No, it never does,” Chris said with a laugh.
“But otherwise, it was perfect.” To my surprise, I meant it.
“And you’re happy,” Chris observed. “Which makes me happy.”
“Yeah,” I said, looking around me at the chaos of unpacked boxes and pureed beets, children and animals, stacks of unopened mail that had been collecting all summer, books and laptops, toys that squeaked and toys that didn’t. “I really am.”
That evening, after Chris left and the children were put to bed, Matthew and I sat out on the wide porch that wrapped around the corner of the house and overlooked the fenced garden. The sky was filled with stars, and the night air held a welcome note of coolness to balance out the heat of the day.
“It feels so protected here,” I said, glancing over the yard. “Our own private paradise, hidden away from the world, where nothing bad can happen.”