Page 98 of Impractical Magic

“Oh, the grove, the grove, blah blah blah.” Mama threw her hands up in exasperation. “I am so sick of hearing about the grove. What about Scarlett? One errant bird, one gust of wind, one . . . I don’t know, one cruel boy with a stone . . . and we’ll lose her forever!”

“If you think about it . . .” Polly examined her nails with a bored expression. “Scarlett has been lost to us for ten years already. So . . .”

Mama turned a murderous glare on Polly. “So what, exactly? What precisely is your point, Miss Polly Practically Perfect?”

Polly blanched. “Nothing, I just . . . I’m just saying . . . if she’s willing to try, who are we to stop her?”

Louise Demain, who had refused a seat at the table as she preferred lurking ominously in the shadows, abruptly stepped forward. “In the cosmic abyss,” she intoned, “the desires of mortals are but fleeting whispers, drowned out by—”

Mama rolled her eyes. “Oh, and you can shut the fuck up, as well.”

The elderly witches gasped at the bold language of Kelly Melrose, while her daughters had to suppress delighted giggles.

“Sounds like Louise casts her vote in my favor,” Scarlett said. “It’s hard to tell, but—”

“I favor nothing,” she declared. “I am the voice of a cold, indifferent universe.”

“Put a sock in it, time witch,” Mama shot back. “I don’t recall inviting H.P. Lovecraft into my dining room.”

Zahir entered from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and opinions of his own. “It’s a terrible idea. Reckless, foolhardy, and likely to end in disaster.” He set the tray down and met Scarlett’s gaze. “Which is exactly why you’ll do it, no matter what anyone says. Here, I made you a tuna sandwich.”

Scarlett reached for the treat, then paused. “Did you put pickles in? And hot sauce?”

“Of course, and lime zest.” He spread his arms wide. “Who do you think you’re talking to?!”

She grinned and dug in hungrily. “I understand everyone’s concern,” she said with her mouth rudely full. “But this is happening.”

“It most certainly is not!” shouted her mother.

***

More time passed—more debate, more discussion, more of the same points made over and over. Neither Mama nor Scarlett showed any sign of weakening.

Then they heard the front door open, and Mama muttered, “At last, the cavalry has arrived . . .”

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly does that mean?”

Nate strode into the dining room. The debate fell silent, all eyes turning to him as he made his way to an empty chair at the table. Scarlett stared, but his expression was unreadable.

Mama rose from her seat, a triumphant twinkle in her eyes. “Darling boy, thank you so much for coming . . .”

“What did you do, Mama?” Scarlett demanded. “Did you call him over here? How dare you drag Nate into this—it has nothing to do with him!” She felt a knot of unease tighten in her stomach. Is he Mama’s secret weapon? The thought made her heart sink. Because honestly? As secret weapons go, he was a good choice. If there was anyone who could talk her out of this plan, it was Nate.

“We’re so glad you could join us,” Mama continued. “Please, sit. Belinda, would you be a dear and pass our newcomer a sandwich?”

Scarlett locked eyes with Nate and spoke directly to him. “This is none of your business. You should stay out of it.”

Belinda Chatterjee jumped to her feet, eager to play hostess. “Of course, Mama Melrose. Nate, we have tuna, turkey, and grilled veg, I think. What’s your pleasure?”

Nate settled into the chair, his eyes never leaving Scarlett’s face. “Is the tuna done Scarlett-style?”

“Of course,” Belinda announced. “Truth be told, it’s impossible to get Zahir to make it any other way.”

Nate nodded. “Then tuna’s fine, thanks.”

Mama leaned forward, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Nate, I’m sure Scarlett has told you about her ridiculous plan.”

“She didn’t, actually. You did, when you summoned me over here.”