Page 69 of Practically Magic

“I’m so glad you’ve made your peace with everything and are moving on,” I tell her. “We’re going to miss you though.”

“Maybe we will all join you for Samhain next year when the veil thins,” Eleanor says brightly, clasping her hands together. “She’s going to love hearing about the creature in the sink.”

Aunt Diane pops her head around a corner. “Sink? Oh, girls, please tell me there wasn’t a slimy tentacle in the same spot where I wash my coffee cup.”

“It’s gone now,” I remind her. “It’s like it never happened at all.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” says Aunt Viv, placing A Guide to Your Magic back in my hands and handing Harry a copy as well. “I’d say you both had a hell of a crash course in magic.”

“Believe me, we know, Aunt Viv,” says Harry as she touches the new crystal necklace around her neck.

Aunt Viv and Aunt Diane got us new ones as soon as they heard what we did with the originals.

“And now we know, the rituals can be cast by any sort of love. We don’t need boys.”

The aunts trade a look. “That’s what we’ve been saying for years,” Aunt Diane mutters dryly.

“And we know,” Harry continues, “that sisterhood is its own kind of magic. It requires sacrifice—and intention.”

“Thank the stars! My work here is done!” Eleanor says as she begins to fade from view.

We stare for a moment at where she stood, but then Harry disappears into the basement. “I found this earlier, when I was checking the foundation. Think we should hang it up?”

It’s a portrait of Eleanor—and her sister.

“Yeah,” I say, my throat tight. “We should.”

She smiles, affixing it the wall. “I hope Mom and Dad are home soon,” Harry says. “I have to catch a train back to school.”

“We’re going to miss you,” I say. “Really.”

“You don’t have to miss me because you are going to visit next weekend, and then Thanksgiving is right around the corner,” Harry says. “I can’t miss Mayor Croft running the Turkey Trot in a turkey costume. Did you hear him say he’s going to make Mystic Hollow the number one destination for Thanksgiving?”

We both laugh.

“And I decided something,” Harry tells all of us. “I’m going to relax more. Not worry about grades so much.”

Aunt Viv feels her head. “No fever. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and looks at me knowingly. “I guess I’ve just realized it’s not a competition. I have to figure out what I want to do, otherwise there’s nothing to be gained from winning.”

“Except the trophy?” I joke. But really I’m proud of her, and I know I could learn a lot from this lesson too. I’m not saying I don’t want to beat Zach to be valedictorian next year or get into the college of my dreams, whatever that is, but I don’t have to be so focused on being perfect. No one is. “Does that mean you’ll let me beat you at Monopoly?”

Before Harry can answer, we all hear the front door creaking open.

The four of us look at each other, as if we’ve just been caught out. Aunt Viv and Aunt Diane agree that the less Mom and Dad know about what happened the better. How we can keep it a secret when the whole town was there with us is beyond me, but the aunts said not to worry. Here’s hoping they’re right.

I take a nervous glance around the first floor to be sure everything other than Great-Aunt Aida’s portrait is back to normal as my parents wheel their bags down the front hall. The four of us stand at attention, like a welcome party.

“We’re home!” Mom declares as she steps into the living room. She sees my aunts and stops short. “What are you two doing here? Why aren’t you on the cruise?”

“Hi!” Harry and I say, rushing forward to hug them. Then Aunt Viv and Aunt Diane pile in too, and we’re all talking a mile a minute, my aunts explaining that they’ve realized they hate cruising (lie—although maybe true for this cruise, since my bad spell accidentally sent them to the Bermuda Triangle), and my uncles decided to take the six-month cruise instead. They don’t want to miss the next Broadway season anyway. Then we rush them into the kitchen, where we’ve got a fresh apple crisp waiting.

“Ooh! You girls are so sweet. We haven’t eaten all morning,” Mom says, grabbing a spoonful and plopping down at the island alongside Dad to have some. “Are these from Mystic Hollow Apple Orchard?”

“Yep,” I tell them, feeling slightly anxious as I eye Mom’s favorite milk pitcher on the shelf behind her that the yeti smashed and I did a spell to fix. I hope she doesn’t notice. Or anything else we had to mend in her favorite room of the house. “We picked them up this morning to make you the crisp as a welcome home present.”

“Aren’t you sweet, girls,” Dad says, and his eyes fill up with tears. “We missed you! I hated doing Samhain without you all.”