Page 8 of Impractical Magic

“Maximillian thinks he’s some kind of magician,” Nate said. “And today he apparently also thinks he’s English?”

Delilah corrected, “Technically speaking, he is a magician. The English part, I won’t vouch for. Pretty sure he was Swedish yesterday. Regardless, he is a right bloody pain in me arse, eh wot?”

Scarlett frowned. “Since when do men in this town have magic?”

“Oh, I never said he had real magic. Maximillian is the non-powered, card-trick-performing, saw-the-lady-in-half type of magician.”

Luna added, “He invited me to go see him at work tomorrow.”

Nate wiggled his eyebrows. “He has a rabbit named Quentin.”

“And he likes to play the piano in our lobby,” said Delilah pointedly. “Or rather, he used to. But, now, thanks to Scarlett—”

“Oh my God, Del, it was an accident, obviously. I’m really sorry . . .”

“Nate,” Delilah said, “didn’t you tell her not to use—”

“Please,” Nate snarked. “You think she listens to me?”

“Hey!” Scarlett exclaimed. “You gave me no indication that would happen!”

“What are you talking about, Scar? I literally said, do not do magic!”

“Sure, but you didn’t make it clear how bad it would actually—”

“Are you kidding me?!” he interrupted.

As the bickering swirled around them, Delilah and Luna exchanged glances, and Luna grinned. “Nice to see some things never change.”

“Everyone, pay attention to me now!” Zahir, the hotel chef, appeared in the doorway. He was pushing a wheeled cart, overburdened with platters and trays and tureens containing all manner of deliciousness. “Everyone to the dining room!”

Scarlett grinned and meant it for the first time since she’d arrived. “Zahir! I’m back, can you believe it?” Zahir was practically a brother to Scarlett and her sisters. His parents had been co-head chefs of the inn when they were kids, so Zahir had grown up alongside the Melrose girls—racing up and down the halls, terrorizing the guests. Now it seemed Zahir had stepped up to replace his parents and carry on the family tradition. Unlike certain other bad children Scarlett could name.

But as Scarlett moved to hug Zahir, Mama swooped in from the kitchen. “Ladies who have made messes need to address their messes before dining.” She departed without pausing for any objections.

Delilah grinned like the cat who’d just inherited the entire canary factory. “No messes made by me. Guess I’m digging in first.” She marched after Mama, leaving Scarlett at the mercy of the wrecked piano.

“Zahir,” Scarlett said, “isn’t it a little early for dinner? It’s, like, four o’clock!”

He wrinkled up his forehead. “How many years has it been since you have had my family’s cooking?”

“That would be ten,” she admitted.

“Then I would have to say that your dinner is extremely late.” That established, he turned and rolled his gorgeous-smelling cart into the dining room.

Luna was on her way outside to deal with the gourds on the lawn, but she turned back. “Just think of it as afternoon tea—we’ll pretend we’re Brrrrrrrrrritish!” She gave a perfectly royal curtsy and danced out the door.

“Hey,” Nate called after her. “You want some garbage bags or . . . ?” But Luna was long gone. “Never mind, I guess.” He bent down to pick up one of the larger pieces of the piano. He slung it over one shoulder like it was nothing. The sight set off a flutter in Scarlett’s chest that she very much did not appreciate.

“You know, I’m not sure I understand this new Nate Williams,” she said to him playfully. “Whatever happened to the ninety-eight-pound weakling who used to help me with my algebra homework?”

“Who used to do your algebra homework, you mean.” He picked up a second plank of the piano to carry in his free hand. This was really getting ridiculous. “Wait here, I’m going to take these pieces down to the basement for safekeeping. I’m sure I can turn them into something useful—end tables or something. And I’ll grab you a broom—you can start sweeping up the small pieces.”

Nate turned to carry the piano rubble downstairs, unintentionally providing Scarlett with a view of his back, which was every bit as enticing as his front.

“Oh for crying out loud . . .” she muttered.

“What’s that?” he called back.