‘We’ll bring you in some cupcakes,’ promised Mom. ‘So that you don’t miss all the goodies.’
‘I think you should do it here so that we can all watch you struggle,’ teased Finn. Althoughwashe teasing? His tone had changed recently, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
Finn snapped his fingers, yanking the box off the counter and sending it off towards the dining table. ‘It’ll be like the time Molly brought her extra-credit Solar System diorama.’
‘Oh my goddess, I remember that,’ said Mom, laughing. In her amusement, she squeezed her piping bag too hard. Another cupcake for the rejects plate. ‘You spent a whole week trying to figure out how to do the Kuiper belt. And you tried so hard to justify including Pluto because you felt bad for it.’
‘I still feel bad for Pluto,’ I admitted. ‘Left out in the cold all because of our arbitrary planet classification system.’
‘I’ll become an astrophysicist just to get Pluto back in with the cool kids,’ promised Finn, picking out a tune as he spoke.
‘That’s definitely the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,’ I told him, grinning.
Over at the dining table, Noah fumbled the jigsaw-puzzle box. Tiny pieces went everywhere – at least a hundred or so slipped off the table and went careering over the floor.
Then, all at once, my ring buzzed and the kitchen lights flickered, dimming to nothing, then returned to full brightness.
Rosie and Mom both shrieked, and the cupcake Mom was holding went flying. I caught it just in time with a snap of magic, setting it back down in front of her. Icing-side down. Oh well, I’d tried.
‘Noah, can you check the fuses in the basement?’ said Rosie, when she’d recovered. ‘This weird old house – it really does seem to have an attitude problem at the moment.’
Nodding, Noah hurried down into the basement.
‘Do we need to call out an electrician?’ asked Mom.
‘Or an exorcist?’ added Finn, reaching over for the cupcake I’d just rescued. He devoured it in two bites. ‘Yum, you’ve been messing these up on purpose, haven’t you?’
‘I’d never mess anything up on purpose,’ Mom replied through a mouthful of cake – she’d grabbed a cupcake for herself before Finn could get his hands on it. ‘But these are too good to give all of them away. I’m just making sure we have a stockpile of our own.’
‘Ah, the truth comes out,’ said Rosie. She plated up a few perfectly iced cupcakes and passed them out to each of us.
‘They’re so good,’ I said, practically swooning over the apple-and-cinnamon one I’d picked out.
‘You’ll need the carbs to help you focus on that puzzle,’ said Rosie. ‘And maybe some of my hot spiced cider. It has a bit of a kick – Lara got me on to the cinnamon Fireball whiskey.’
I wasn’t going to turn that down. I poured a glass for both Noah and myself, then, after being given some prayer hands, one for Finn as well.
‘This will get these poor fingers moving,’ he said, banging out a chord on the guitar.
‘Uh huh,’ I said, trying not to grin. ‘If you don’t mind, I have a jigsaw puzzle to attend to.’
‘I’ll be quiet so long as you promise to watchThe Mummywith me later tonight. The nineteen-ninety-nine one, of course.’
‘Well, it’s hard to say no to that ridiculously beautiful cast,’ I said. ‘But you’re going to have to be really quiet while we work. Because this puzzle is a major undertaking.’
‘If I’d known it meant Finn was going to shut up, I would’ve picked a bigger puzzle,’ goaded Noah, who’d just returned from the basement.
‘If I’d known you were going to be such a dick, I would’ve picked a different brother,’ said Finn, in a sing-song voice.
‘Finn,’ said Rosie warningly.
I rolled my eyes. All right, so Ididenjoy spending time with Finn. He was so fun and cheerful, and we always had a good time together. But Noah and I had experienced something special tonight at the bookshop. Something … heated. I didn’t want to lose the thread of that just yet.
Thankfully, true to his word, Finn sat quietly, alternating between scrolling videos on his phone and jangling out a few notes on his guitar. After a while he grabbed another cupcake and cider and loped off, presumably to the music room.
As Mom and Rosie piped cupcakes and murmured about the tech client who was giving Mom grief, Noah and I sorted pieces, putting together piles of oranges, yellows and russets. Noah had a much more sophisticated colour palette than I did, and had all sorts of names for colours that, unlike mine, did not come from a twelve-pack of Crayola markers.
‘You’re mocking me,’ I said at one point. ‘There’s no way that’s a real colour.’
