I opened my mouth, then closed it again, shamed into silence.
“If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, Rainy March, that fictional characters belong in stories and real people belong in the real world. But for some reason you think the rules don’t apply to you. Your mother never once gave the Coven any cause for concern. Ellery did her work perfectly every single time. I had hoped you’d turn out to be a Book Witch of her caliber, but I’m beginning to doubt that.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, as I surrendered my umbrella to her, “you’re not the only one.”
After I’d retrieved Koshka from the lap of a tween girl who’d inexplicably renamed him Fuzzypants McGee, we headed to my car.
As I was unlocking it, Penny ran out the front door, waving to me to stop.
“Rainy,” she said a little breathless. “I’m sorry. I tried to argue with her but—”
“It’s not your fault. Thanks for trying anyway.”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine, fine. Fine and dandy even,” I lied, straight to her face. I was neither fine nor dandy. I was, in fact, furious, frustrated, scheming, bitter, and a little bit grumpy. Not that I was going to dump all that on sweet, young Penny.
“No offense, Rainy, but you don’t seem dandy. I’m off work now. Do you want to get some coffee with me or some dinner? We could talk about it.”
“I better get home. Mrs. Turner said she’d save dinner for me. But thanks for backing me up in there.”
“Anytime,” Penny said.
Koshka jumped into his carrier, and I shut the door, then waved at Penny through the window.
But when I turned the key, my car only sputtered, refusing to start.
Could this day get any worse?
Which is exactly what I said when I opened my car door.
“Don’t say that,” Penny warned me. “Sometimes the universe answers yes.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have driven a fifty-year-old car onto Sunset Beach,” I said as I got out. “Engine’s flooded. It needs to sit for a couple hours. Come on, buddy,” I said to Koshka. “We’ll walk home.”
“Let me get my coat,” Penny said. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You’re the sort of girl who rescues worms off hot sidewalks, aren’t you?”
“You’re not a worm, Rainy. Unless you mean a bookworm. Although if you were awormworm, I’d put you back in the grass and then add a little leaf on top of you like an umbrella,” she said, miming the act of putting a leaf over my head. “And you would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Let’s not talk about me.”
“We could,” she said. “While I walk you home.”
“You’ll regret it,” I said.
“How far away do you live?”
“Six blocks.”
She grinned broadly. “I can most certainly walk six blocks.”
Five minutes later…
Penny sighed heavily. “You were right, Rainy. I regret it!”
“It’s only six blocks,” I reminded her, panting slightly myself. “Just…six blocks uphill.”
