Page 46 of Impractical Magic

Scarlett and Nate eyeballed the magician suspiciously, then looked at each other, then back at him.

“You are sitting in the hall,” Scarlett said, “so as not to disturb your rabbit?”

“Listen, buddy,” Nate said in as chummy a tone as he could muster. “How about you let us have a look at your doors? We’ll be super quiet, I promise. Just take a quick peek, just make sure everything is okay?”

“Absolutely nein!” Max declared. “My impedimenta are in zere. All ze tools of my trade. No non-magician may gaze upon these tools, it is verboten!”

“Impedimenta,” Scarlett said, amused. “You mean your props? For your little shows?”

“I recognize your disdain, und! I am choosing not to acknowledge it. More important is my Quentin. Quentin requires his rest. I must insist you do no disturb him.”

“Sure.” Scarlett shrugged. “We’ll leave you to it then.”

She nudged Nate to suggest they move on, but he hesitated. “We should really check,” he whispered.

“If he won’t let us, he won’t let us. C’mon, we have bigger problems.”

“Okay . . .” Nate turned to Maximillian. “Max, please promise me . . . if you happen to find a portal in the shower, don’t fall in.”

“Sehr gut!” said the magician defiantly. “I would say auf wiedersehen except I have no desire to sehen you wieder.”

***

On her mother’s list, there was only one more door to fix: Room 317. “This says the room is unoccupied, which is a relief.”

“Great.” Nate nodded. “We’ll change this last lock and then I should probably head back to the store. Everybody in town is going to be there looking for lock picks and tools and who knows what else.”

“Yeah . . .” Scarlett’s jolly mood faded as she remembered why everyone in Oak Haven would be lining up at the hardware store—to fix everything she had broken.

As they walked down the hall to the final room, Nate nudged her shoulder with his own. “Hey. I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The look on your face right now. The Consumed with Dread look.”

Scarlett frowned. “I don’t have a Consumed with Dread look.” She reached over and unlocked Room 317 with the hotel skeleton key. “Should we see where this portal goes? Maybe it’s the Marianas Trench and I can just disappear there for—” the sight of what lay beyond the door brought her up short “—ever.”

On the other side of the portal, impossibly white sand extended in all directions. A vast expanse of the ocean stretched out in the distance, rolling waves crashing against the shore. The sky was painted in a breathtaking display of fiery orange, melting into soft pinks and vibrant purples as the sun dipped below the horizon. A gentle breeze carried the whisper of the ocean and a salty fragrance Scarlett couldn’t quite place.

As Nate took in the view, he let out a low whistle. “Whoa. Best portal yet, by a mile.” He stretched out his arm across the transom, feeling the warm sun on his skin. “I bet the water’s perfect.” He peeked at Scarlett questioningly. “I don’t suppose we could just . . .”

“Nate . . .” Oh, how Scarlett longed to leap into the waves with Nate at that moment. But she knew it didn’t matter what she longed for. Feelings later, champagne now. “We can’t. We’re needed here. Besides, the portal could close while we’re out there.”

“Right, but . . . you got us home from New Orleans, didn’t you?”

“I got lucky, because Papa told me about New Orleans. I don’t know the location of every portal on Earth. We could easily get stranded on that beach.”

His mischievous grin faded into something far softer. “Oh and that would be terrible.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “Terrible.”

“Well, let’s visit the beach from right here. We’ll just stand on the threshold and watch the sunset.”

Scarlett hesitated. This felt dangerous, an indulgence in these chaotic times. At the same time, though, she didn’t want to say no.

She edged beside him in the doorway. Standing so close, the feel of Nate’s body beside her made her slightly dizzy.

Nate gazed out at the orange-streaked sky. “Hey . . . remember how your mom used to cast a movie screen in your back garden? She’d let all of us miscreants come over on Saturday nights?”