Page 6 of Impractical Magic

“Don’t be daft. The Ross and Rachel-y thing. Will they, won’t they, were they on a break, why is there a monkey, et cetera. Did you two ever get around to having an actual date? I can’t remember, it’s been so long now.”

“C’mon, there was never any monkey. And Nate and I were friends—that was it.”

“Exactly, you were friends like on Friends—see what you did there?”

“No way! There was no Friends-related . . . thing. That was just a fantasy circulated by all the old ladies in town.”

“Okaayy. Sure.” Luna’s eyebrows danced skeptically. “Whatever, Rachel. I’m gonna go help with the food. If we leave it up to Delilah, we’ll be eating some sort of quinoa-based gruel.” Then she was gone.

Scarlett turned her attention to the piano, where Mama said, “All right, Nate, so you’re clear on the task? The piano hasn’t been moved in thirty years, so the casters may need some convincing.”

“Consider it done,” Nate said solemnly. “WD-40 is my friend.”

She nodded and headed for the kitchen, while Nate crawled under the piano on his back, the better to inspect the casters.

Scarlett approached the piano slowly, like it was a bomb that might go off. “Hey, you.”

Nate sat up, smacking his head on the underside of the piano. “Dammit!” He crawled out from under and stood, rubbing his forehead. “Scarlett. Of course the first time I see you involves a headache. Plus, I’ve lost a bet.”

“You!” Scarlett exclaimed. “You bet against me?”

He shrugged. “Not one word in ten years. Felt like my odds were good.”

“Thanks a bunch . . . Anyway . . . it’s nice to see you, Nate.”

“Uh, yeah.”

They stared at each other for a beat, then quickly looked away.

“You uh, you look good,” he said to the piano.

“Me, or the piano?”

He flushed, embarrassed. “I should get back to this—your mom wants the piano in the ballroom.”

“Seriously though—why?”

“Apparently the Gilbert and Sullivan Society will be arriving soon, and they all need lots of space for . . . various . . . piano-related . . . . Oh I don’t know, I’m just doing what your mom asked.”

“I see. So, you are the very model of a modern major piano mover.”

Nate sighed. “That’s the third time I’ve heard that joke today.”

“Buckle up, it’s gonna be a long weekend. But why are you moving it when one of us could just—” She flicked her fingers, suggesting a spell.

“Please don’t. Magic has been all . . . I dunno, weird lately. Anyway, I heard you gave up magic when you left town.”

“True,” Scarlett admitted. “Ten years without.”

“Well, you’ve only been home for five minutes—maybe pace yourself.”

“Maybe . . . or maybe, doing your job better than you can is the perfect way for me to kick off this visit.”

“Did you see the gourds?” Nate pointed at the door. “Looks like a haunted house exploded out there.”

“That’s Luna, though; her spells are always crazy. Come on, let me move the piano for you.”

“Delilah says there’s something off with magic right now,” Nate said. “She doesn’t want it used in the hotel unless absolutely necessary.”