Page 35 of Jingle Spells

The older witches all hmm’d and aha’d. But mixed in with the vague sounds of agreement, Scarlett let out a little gasp. “Oh, of course! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

Delilah shot a confused glance at her sister but carried on with the debate. “Mama, I don’t think we can afford to put this off. If you’d just hear me out, please! I have good reason to believe that the longer we wait, the worse things will get.”

“Not now, Delilah. The situation with our neighbors will still be there once the festival is over.”

“Yeah,” Delilah replied, “and maybe that’s exactly what they’re counting on. That we’re so worried about maintaining our perfect little snow globe, we won’t notice it’s being shaken apart!”

“Young lady!” Conrad interrupted. “Perhaps we could discuss this in a more . . . appropriate way? For our guests?”

Right. The tourists. Who were eating this up like it was the spiciest production of The Crucible since Winona Ryder made eyes at Daniel Day-Lewis.

Delilah closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she fixed Mrs. Chatterjee with her best impression of Mama’s we-will-discuss-this-later stare.

“What I mean is . . . our neighbors have plans. And I’m trying to tell you, those plans involve destroying the single most important thing that has protected Oak Haven since its very founding. You know the thing I mean—I don’t need to say it here. But if we just ignore what’s clearly happening because we’re too busy hanging holly and organizing pageants . . .” She took a deep breath. “Well. Then maybe we deserve what happens next.”

She sat down hard, her heart pounding. Scarlett’s hand found hers and squeezed it.

“That was incredible,” her sister whispered.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Delilah whispered back. “Is this what it feels like to be you? Just talking shit, without thinking about it first?”

“Pretty much. Fun, no?”

“No.” But she was smiling, just a little.

“Well, you did great, sis. You made a scene, which is normally my department, but more importantly, you figured out the answer to our problem.”

Delilah turned to her sister, utterly baffled. “I what? No. No, I definitely didn’t.”

“Sure. You and Mama, and that little verbal tennis match just now? You found the answer.”

“Scarlett, what are you talking about?”

“And, since you figured it out, that’s tantamount to agreeing to help me.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

Delilah sighed. “This is going to end badly, isn’t it?”

“I mean . . . probably?”

“But we’re doing it anyway?”

Scarlett grinned. “Definitely.”

The meeting broke up in classic Oak Haven style, which is to say, with nothing resolved beyond everyone’s commitment to being annoyed. The tourists drifted out in happy clusters, chattering about the “totally authentic colonial drama.”

“Do you think they noticed that none of their photos came out?” Delilah muttered to her sister as they lingered in the back of the hall.

“They’ll blame it on the lighting.” Scarlett was staring off into space with an oddly focused expression. An expression that Delilah recognized from childhood, one that never led to anything good.

“Oh no.” Delilah groaned. “I know that face. That’s your ‘I have a terrible idea’ face.”

“How dare you. It’s my ‘I have a brilliant idea that may blow up in my face’ face.” Scarlett glanced around to make sure nobody was in earshot. “Look, what if we’re thinking about this all wrong? Everyone’s so worried about the magicians catching us at our weakest during Saturnalia. But what if that’s actually our advantage?”

“How exactly is being powerless an advantage?”