The Rules of Magic (Practical Magic #2)(32)
“And a beetle in the hall.”
That stopped Susanna. “What sort of beetle?”
“The bad sort,” Franny said. “A deathwatch beetle.”
Susanna reconsidered. There was no reason to be impulsive when all signs pointed to caution. “I don’t see the harm in doing as you say. No chances will be taken. Now convince your sister of that since she’s been so foolish lately.”
“She’s already agreed,” Franny said.
“Fine. We will all be cautious.”
Yet Franny continued to have a nest of nerves in the pit of her stomach. She went to the bedroom and perched on the edge of Jet’s bed. She felt a rush of love for her sleeping sister, the most kindhearted person she had ever known. Rather than going to sleep herself, Franny crept out the open window. Lewis was there, waiting for her. She’d swiped a dinner roll, which she now broke into three pieces, signaling to each crust. She called each crust by name: Mother, Father, Sister.
“Which one?” she asked, but Lewis flew off, disappearing into the pitch-black sky. “You’re supposed to do as I say,” Franny called after him, distraught, wounded by his refusal to predict the future. Her familiar had made it clear that a crow may be a confidant and a companion, even a spy, but never a servant. In this regard, he mirrored his mistress’s flinty independence. If he cried, as she now did, surely no one would ever know.
On Jet’s birthday the parents surprised her with tickets to a Broadway musical and a special dinner at the Russian Tea Room. She was turning seventeen and was as near to perfect as she’d ever be. Ever since the winter Jet had collected canned food for the local soup kitchen, and she often worked there on holidays, peeling potatoes and slicing carrots. People said she resembled a young Elizabeth Taylor, whose photograph had graced the cover of Life magazine earlier in the year, when Miss Taylor won the Oscar for best actress in BUtterfield 8. Jet was an A student at Starling and had never caused her parents a single bit of worry until this Levi Willard business, but the parents were relieved that folly seemed to be old news now. Jet seemed to have turned a corner on that score. Not that they would allow her to go to Magnolia Street this summer, even though her time to visit Aunt Isabelle had come. That would be tempting fate.
“You’re still the favorite,” Franny remarked with zero jealousy. She was sprawled across her bed watching Jet choose her dress for the evening.
“I am not,” Jet insisted. “Has our mother ever slapped you?”
All the same Jet was pleased with the fuss being made over her. Her birthday was indeed a special occasion, although no one in the family knew quite how special it would be. Franny had bought her a silver bangle bracelet in the jewelry department at Macy’s. Vincent presented her with a record album by a folk singer named Pete Seeger, whose songs were so filled with humanity they brought Jet to tears. But best of all, Levi would be waiting for her at the Bethesda Fountain later tonight. He’d sold a watch that had belonged to his great-great-grandfather so he could rent them a room at the Plaza Hotel. Jet was nervous, but ecstatic. All she had to do was sneak away after the theater and she’d be free. It would be worth the trouble she’d be in when she returned in the morning.
She had tried on nearly all of her dresses when Franny suggested she wear the black minidress April had sent as a present from a shop on Newbury Street in Boston. Even Franny had to admit, April had style. “It’s your birthday,” Franny told her sister. “Live a little.”
Vincent straggled in and threw himself onto Jet’s bed, which by now was piled with discarded clothing. “Live a lot,” he advised.
Jet was persuaded to add a floppy hat, then Franny dabbed on some lip gloss and mascara, and there Jet was, utterly gorgeous. Franny was a little in awe of her younger sister’s shimmering beauty. “If those bitches at Starling could see you now they’d hate you even more. Just be careful tonight.”
Once the parents had left with Jet, Vincent grabbed his leather jacket and nodded to Franny. “Let’s get out of this mausoleum.”
“The sooner, the better,” Franny agreed.
Haylin was probably already at their usual meeting place. Franny latched the front door and they set out into the lovely summer evening. A limo sped by with a whoosh of air and Franny felt a chill, which she ignored. Surely, there was nothing to worry about on this perfect night.
When they reached the corner of Eighty-Ninth and Fifth, brother and sister went their separate ways.
“Use caution,” Franny called to her brother, who waved to her before he headed downtown.
Franny then went directly to the Ninetieth Street entrance, eager to step into the cool, silent park. Lately she was disturbed by her strong feelings toward Haylin. She just couldn’t seem to control them, though she tried her best. Every time they were together, she held back. They would be all over each other, and then she would pull away to stalk off by herself, not wanting him to see how she was burning for him.
“Not again,” Haylin would say, twisted with desire. “Jeez, Franny, I’m dying here.”
Franny had vowed she would not go anywhere near love, but here she was standing on the very edge of it, about to fall. She wasn’t certain how long this denial could go on or if she even wanted it to.
Tonight she wore her usual outfit of a black shirt, black slacks, and a pair of sneakers. It didn’t matter what she wore or how she might try to downplay her looks, Franny possessed a rare beauty. With her long red hair and pale flawless skin, she resembled a woodland creature as she ducked under thickets.