The End of Magic (The Witches of Echo Park #3)(20)

"Now loooooooooooooook."

The word seemed to drag on into eternity; a whole universe was born and died in the space of time it took for the final consonant to sound. Dev stared down into the bowl of crystal-clear water . . . and she saw.


• • •

It was one of those old, rambling bungalows whose wooden shingles had turned a silvery gray with age and exposure to the elements, its windows caked with grit from the salty sea air. It sat perched on the edge of a cliff, a snaking staircase made of driftwood leading to the sandy beach. There were four bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and a living room whose back wall was made from three large plate-glass windows-so at sunrise and sunset you could stare out at an unadulterated view of the sea.

They went on a Friday night and stayed until Sunday, a weekend trip, a benevolent gift from Freddy's boss, whose family owned the house in Laguna Beach. On their way out of town, they stopped at the store and loaded up on groceries. They filled the cart with yummy delicacies-ones they eschewed at home because of the expense-and suntan lotion that smelled like a Hawaiian coconut. Freddy even bought two bottles of expensive cabernet for the two of them to drink on the porch when the girls had gone to sleep.

It was a weekend slice of heaven and they'd sorely needed it. The girls spent sunup to sundown outside, building sand castles and chasing waves, their giddy shrieks of joy echoing on the empty beach. They'd only fought once during the whole trip-though Dev had quickly intervened, ending the dispute before there were any tears. 

What was it they'd been fighting over? She tried to remember. It was something small and unimportant . . . ah, yes . . . a piece of sea glass.

Dev had been making lunch, homemade egg salad sandwiches with bread-and-butter pickles and store-bought Tater Tots-a rarity at their house, but the girls loved them and so they'd splurged at the store. Though she could see the beach from the kitchen window, she wasn't worried about keeping an eye on the girls. Freddy was with them, set up in an old beach chair in the sand, rereading The Stand. He was wearing a ratty old sombrero he'd found in one of the bedrooms, the wide straw brim so long it covered his black caterpillar eyebrows, making his dark eyes look permanently surprised.

She'd giggled like a little kid when he'd first put it on-Mama, you snorted! Ginny had said-and that only seemed to egg him on more. He'd taken to wearing the hat like a new head of hair and Dev knew he was doing it just to amuse her.

"Lunch!" she'd called as she'd stepped out onto the porch with the plates of food. The porch held a weathered teak table and four mismatched chairs, and they'd taken to having most of their meals out there.

The girls had come up the stairs arguing, Freddy behind them, sombrero in one hand and The Stand in the other. He was shaking his head, obviously frustrated by the bickering.

"Let your mama see," he said as he put his stuff down in one of the patio chairs and placed a hand on each of Ginny's nut-brown shoulders.

"It's miiiiiiine," Ginny whined, dragging out the i in mine. Freddy rolled his eyes at Dev as if to say: I've been dealing with it all day and now it's your turn.

"What's yours, peach pie?" Dev asked Ginny, but Marji answered for her.

"He gave it to me. It's mine."

A definitive mine from Marji meant that this was probably not going to end well.

"What is it?" Dev asked again.

With Freddy's prodding, Ginny lifted her right hand and opened her fist. Sitting on the fleshy mound of her palm was a small, perfectly round pebble made of what Dev assumed was red sea glass.

"It's mine," Marji reiterated. "The man gave it to me."

Marji reached for the stone and Ginny's hand snapped shut like a clam.

"No!" she howled, and ran into the house, still clutching her prize. Marji started to go after her, but Freddy lightly grasped his older daughter's arm.

"Marj . . . be the older sister."

Marji stared up at her dad, wearing a look of utter betrayal on her face.

"But, Dad, it's not fair!" she cried, eyebrows scrunching together the way they always did right before the tears started.

"Marjoram, please, no tears," Dev said, letting out a long sigh. "Why don't you and your dad sit down and eat? I'll go get Ginny and we'll talk about this reasonably, all right?"

Marji didn't look satisfied with this solution, her frown deepening.

"I'm not going to give the pebble to anyone else without us all talking about it, okay?" Dev added, and this seemed to appease Marji. She nodded, a lone tear snaking down her cheek.