Page 37 of No Charm Done

Home. The word settled in her chest with a warmth she hadn’t anticipated. Recently, all she’d been able to think about was escape. Constantly dreaming of all the places she’d been and all the others she wanted to see. Somehow in all that longing, she’d forgotten the delight of a place that knew her completely.

Scarlett was at the reservation desk, looking like she’d aged five years in the time Luna had been gone. She had one arm extended, her expression set in fierce concentration. A stack of towels hovered several inches above the counter, trembling like nervous birds.

“Come on,” she muttered. “Fold. Just fold.”

The towels twitched.

Then, with a soft but unmistakably smug ping, glowing letters appeared in the air above them:

SPELL UNAVAILABLE—TRY AGAIN LATER

The towels flopped lifelessly to the counter.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Scarlett looked up to find Luna and Elias standing in the middle of the lobby, watching her with concern. “Luna!” She launched herself at her sister, wrapping her in a fierce hug. “Oh thank God, you’re back. Not that I was worried or anything. I knew you could handle yourself, obviously. Didn’t even cross my mind to be concerned, not one time. But also, I am so glad to see you!”

Luna hugged her back. “I missed you too, Scar.” Her words were sincere, and yet she had the oddest sense that something was missing. Something shared was gone—like an in-joke or the lyrics to a favorite song—that Luna suddenly couldn’t recall.

When they pulled apart, Scarlett glanced over at Luna’s companion. “So,” she stretched her hand out to Shaw, “I take it you’re the rescue cat.”

He took her hand. “At your service.”

Something about his smooth confidence made Luna want to shake him and kiss him simultaneously.

Scarlett waggled her eyebrows at her sister. “Ohhhkay, sure. You kids have impeccable timing. Five minutes ago I tried to clean the lobby. Ten minutes before that, the coffee warmer. Both times, same message: try again later.”

“I’ve seen it, too.” Luna said, nodding. “Louise was right—it’s starting.”

“What is?”

“Where are Mama and Del? We all need to talk.”

“Del’s off somewhere with Jasper, but Mama’s in the garden with her book club. Give her a minute to wrap up and then⁠—”

“Mrs. Melrose?” Elias’s face lit up at the mention of their mother. “She’s here? Hold the line—am I in Oak Haven right now? Is the great Kelly Melrose in situ?”

“Obviously,” Luna replied. “This is the Stargazer, where—” But Shaw was already heading toward the French doors that led to the garden. She had to conclude her sentence to the empty space where her companion had been: “—where I was born and grew up and which is a site of great importance to me . . . Not that you care. Clearly.”

“Ooh,” her sister snarked. “Beaten out by Mama, of all people.”

“He just— He can’t just— This is my house!” Even as she said it, Luna recognized how petulant she sounded. Get over yourself. You saved him. That was the job, full stop. You didn’t save him so he’d be grateful to you specifically. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

Scarlett grinned, visibly enjoying Luna’s flustered state. “I know, right? Some people have no manners. Come on, let’s not miss this little reunion.”

“He’s not even listening to me about Louise,” Luna muttered as they followed him. “We have a crisis to deal with, and he’s acting like he’s at a tea party.”

“Mm-hmm,” Scarlett said knowingly. “That’s why you’re all atwitter right now. Nothing to do with how good he looks in that suit.”

“I— That’s not— Shut up, Scarlett.” Which was unfair, because Scarlett wasn’t wrong. Luna could be irritated with Elias and remain uncomfortably aware of the way he moved through a room or, yes, how well that suit suited him.

The Stargazer garden was a carefully cultivated space, both elegant and welcoming. Curved pathways wound between flower beds bursting with early summer blooms, and a small fountain provided a peaceful soundtrack of running water. Oak trees provided shade for the seating areas, where wrought-iron furniture was adorned with overstuffed pillows, inviting guests to linger.

In the center of the garden, five women sat in a loose circle, mint juleps sweating in the afternoon heat and a plate of sugar cookies reduced to crumbs between them. Luna recognized them all: her mother Kelly, of course, along with Belinda Chatterjee, Jerusha, Candace, and Polly. They appeared to be in the middle of a heated literary debate.

“—simply refuse to read any more books about magic.” Belinda waved her mint julep for emphasis. “Chuck Tingle’s portrayal of wizardry was completely unrealistic.”

“It’s fiction, Bel.” Polly laughed. “It doesn’t have to be realistic.”