Chapter 25 Dumb Kids

Defeated, Scarlett made her way back to the inn. Her dread grew as she imagined the conversations she was about to have. She'd report having seen Maximillian with Violet and, inevitably, Luna would declare that Max was too much of a sweetheart to be involved in anything questionable. Delilah would retort that Max was too much of a moron. Mama would stare at her newspaper and say, "Hmm." And that would be it.

Her report on the conversation with Louise was just as predictable. The time witch says the solution is within me, Scarlett would say, quite literally. Luna would smile kindly and say, Well, isn't that interesting, I wonder what it means . Delilah would snark, In that case you should pull out a kidney and feed it to the flies; see where that gets you. Mama would say, "Hmm."

Scarlett realized she didn't want to talk to her family about these problems. She wanted to talk to the sole member of Team Scarlett.

The question was: did he want to talk to her?

***

Scarlett argued with herself the whole way to Williams Hardware. Stay away, said her logical side. Don't make up with him. Let him be angry. It's good for him to be angry because it will hurt him less when you leave.

On the other hand, offered her emotional side, I hate that he's upset with me. We're finally friends after ten years apart! I can't leave things like this. A weak counterargument, perhaps. Yet somehow, a winning one.

As she approached the store, Scarlett's gut told her that, as usual, things would somehow be more complicated than she'd expected.

Her gut was correct. She could hear the shouting from out on the street.

The Earls were there on the porch, manning their rocking chairs. But instead of the usual chatter, they all sat very still and quiet, not wanting to miss a word of the quarrel happening inside.

Earl Eleven smiled brightly at Scarlett and gestured that she should join them on the porch . . . but quietly.

She knelt beside Earl Nine's chair and whispered, "What's up?"

"That's Dave Injabire in there—do you know the Injabires?"

She shook her head no.

"Must've moved in after you left," whispered Eleven. "Nice family."

"Very nice family." Nine nodded.

"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—"

"We won't hear of it!" Nine picked up his cane and smacked it on the porch like a giant judge's gavel. "Thirteen, you get that gal out of here. We insist!"

"Really? You've really got the whole hardware store handled without me?"

"Consider it handled," announced his grandfather.

"Done and dusted," said his great-grandfather.

His great-great-grandfather agreed. "Get off our lawn, you dumb kids."

***

Scarlett followed Nate off the porch and down the quiet street. The autumn air was crisp, and the trees were lit up with brilliant fall colors. Scarlett didn't care about Del's complaints that they "just aren't as pretty" as usual—she'd been in California for ten years. The oranges, yellows, and reds of these New England trees were plenty appealing to her eyes. Of course, occasionally, she'd also notice a tree that was purple or spotted or plaid . . . because there was no chance that Oak Haven would let Scarlett forget it was in trouble, not even for a minute.

As they walked along the cobblestones, Scarlett glanced sideways at Nate. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "I'm just going to dive right in here, get it out in the open. Last night . . . You see . . . I was embarrassed. We got so swept away, and everything was really overwhelming and . . . I mean, not for nothing, but I nearly got eaten by a squid? Maybe a gal isn't exactly at her best after that? And suddenly there you are, and there I am . . . and there we are , if you know what I mean . . . and then there's . . . Polly? Polly, of all people?! I just felt so exposed and . . . caught off guard, I guess? And . . . I said dumb things I didn't mean."

Nate stopped walking and turned to face her. "I know," he said gently. "I felt pretty exposed, myself. I also said dumb things I didn't mean."

"What happened . . . it didn't mean nothing to me. I don't know what it meant, to be totally honest. But nothing is definitely not it."

"I know that, too." He reached out for her. "C'mere."

Scarlett let Nate pull her into his arms. She melted against his broad chest, the steady thump of his heart calming her racing pulse.

"I've missed you," she whispered. "So much."

"I've missed you too," he murmured. They stood together for a long moment, the years between them falling away.

She tilted her head up to look at him. His eyes searched her face, a question in them. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

Nate leaned in and kissed her, soft and tentative at first. When she responded, the kiss deepened, years of longing and heartache pouring out.

Finally, Scarlett pulled back to look up at him, her palms resting against his chest. But this time, instead of longing, there was laughter—at themselves, at their own weakness. "I guess this is going to keep happening, huh?"

"I guess so." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. "Come on, I want to take you somewhere."