Page 65 of Impractical Magic

“Lovely family,” Ten agreed. “But Dave’s wife Linda apparently cast a spell on her garden . . .”

“Uh-oh,” Scarlett said.

Nine’s eyebrows did a little dance. “Very uh-oh, indeed.”

“She meant well—she knows we’re all low on gourds, and she wanted to produce some good-sized ones, just to contribute.”

“She wanted to pitch in,” added Ten. “Such a nice family.”

Scarlett whispered, “I take it the spell didn’t work out?”

Her answer arrived from inside the store, as Dave Injabire hollered to the heavens. “The gourds are bigger than our house. They grew and grew and grew, and now I’ve lost track of Linda entirely. She’s underneath a damned pumpkin somewhere!”

The Earls melted into a fit of giggling. “I’ve lost track of Linda entirely,” Nine repeated.

“Hooo, Linda, where are you?” Eleven tittered. “Which pumpkin are you under? Is it this one? Nope. Is it that one?”

“Shhh,” Scarlett whispered, resisting a strong urge to join in. “Stop—she could be hurt.”

The door flew open, and Dave burst out, his arms loaded with shovels. “I can’t believe this town is so poorly run that—” Suddenly, he noticed Scarlett on the porch. “Oh, look! You’re a Melrose, aren’t you?! How perfect.”

Scarlett stood. “Mr. Injabire, sir, I’m so sorry about your garden. Is there anything I—”

“Anything you can do?! Do you want to come dig pumpkins and help me locate my wife? No? Then stay out of it.” He stormed off the porch.

“Sorry again . . .” she called after him. “And maybe tell your wife no more spells for now, okay? Just until we get the grove sorted out.”

He turned back to glare at her. “Spells are part of our lives. Spells are why we immigrated to this ridiculous town in the first place. No spells? We’d be better off back in Kigali!” Dave turned and stalked off down the street, muttering.

“He has a point.” Nate was lingering in the doorway. “Magic is a part of folks’ daily lives. Without it, they don’t know how to do anything.”

Scarlett turned to look at him. My God, those cheekbones . . . he needs to stop with those cheekbones. “Everyone can get by for a few more days, surely.”

He shrugged. “Get by? I guess. But do you know how many calls I’ve had from people who can’t get their Wi-Fi to work without using magic?”

“A lot of calls.” Nine nodded.

“So many calls,” agreed Eleven.

“Discontent is rising, Scar. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Right,” Scarlett said. “Okay, noted. Look . . . can we talk?” She glanced at the porch full of old men. “Somewhere private?”

He gazed at Scarlett, but she couldn’t interpret his expression. Was there any warmth in it? Or was he still upset by her idiotic babblings outside the bookstore? “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can leave right now. As I said, a lot of calls about the Wi-Fi.”

“Why, though? You run the hardware store! How did you become the town IT guy on top of everything else?”

Nate frowned. “Maybe if we had someone living in Oak Haven who has actual real-world experience with the internet . . .”

“Oh, that’s not fair!”

“Hey you two,” interrupted Ten. “The fellas and I have got things handled here. “Why don’t you kids go get yourselves some grog?”

Scarlett laughed. “Grog?! Listen, you scurvy dog, it’s barely noon!”

“Oh, you know what they say,” replied Eleven. “It’s always happy hour in Tortuga.”

“I don’t know,” Nate hesitated. “Some other time would be better. I just think—”