Nick, who’d made spaghetti, found himself watching out the window for the gleam of lamplight on a curling wave of snow.
It was almost nine when Smallbone finally showed up, looking fierce and carrying a dinged-up old lantern in his hand. He eyed the set table, the simmering pot of sauce, and the spaghetti draining in the sink. “Heat up them noodles and I’ll be down directly. Better make a fresh pot of coffee, too. It’s some nippy out.”
He disappeared with the dogs, who’d spent the evening whining and pacing by the door, bouncing joyfully around him.
Nick set a kettle on the stove and fumed. He was just a convenience, like the stove and the hot water and the laundry that did itself. He couldn’t go anywhere: he couldn’t do anything. And the only person he had to talk to was an evil wizard.
It was almost enough to make him wish he hadn’t run away from Beaton. But then he wouldn’t have the bookstore or the animals. And he would have Uncle Gabe.
Still, he was getting sick of being stuck in one place all the time.
Next morning, Smallbone came down carrying a large leather satchel.
Nick looked up from the slightly lumpy pancakes he had sizzling on the griddle. “What’s that?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Smallbone said unhelpfully. “Hurry up with them flapjacks, Foxkin. We’re going into town again.”
This time, they walked, with Nick carrying the satchel over his shoulder. It was heavy.
Beyond the woodshed, a clear if somewhat icy path led eastward through the woods. Under the trees it was very quiet, except for the occasional whoosh and thud of wet snow sliding off a branch. A load landed on Nick’s head, soaking his blue watch cap and sending icy trickles down the collar of his jacket.
Smallbone, of course, was untouched.
The path came out at a small pond, iced over and snow covered, plunged back into the trees, crossed a bridge over a frozen creek, and fed onto the main street of Smallbone Cove. Some kids heading for the hill behind the church with sleds stared as Smallbone and Nick stalked by behind a wave of snow.
When they reached the Mercantile, Smallbone banged on the door, right under the CLOSED sign.
A window went up on the second floor. “Go away,” a male voice shouted.
Smallbone banged some more.
Zery’s head appeared at the window. “It’s Sunday morn — Oh. It’s you.”
Smallbone stepped back and glared upward. “Tell Lily the Evil Wizard Smallbone wants to talk to her.”
Zery disappeared and the window slammed shut. Nick peered through the shop window and saw Lily hurrying out of the back with her shirt buttoned cockeyed, a this-better-be-good look on her face. Behind her were Zery and a girl about Nick’s age. Nick looked away quickly. Girls made him nervous.
Lily opened the door. “ ’Morning, Mr. Smallbone. What can I do for you?”
Smallbone met her glare with glittering intensity. “Town Meeting. Now.”
“Town Meeting’s not until June,” Lily said.
“I’m calling a special one,” Smallbone said. “Get hopping.”
Lily sighed. “You heard the evil wizard, Zery. You and Dinah start knocking on doors. I’ll take the car and hit the farms.”
“Dinah can stay here,” Smallbone said. “I got some questions for her.”
Dinah’s mother looked unhappy.
“I’ll be fine,” Dinah said. Her voice was firm, like she didn’t mind being left alone with an evil wizard and his probably evil apprentice.
“You heard the girl,” Smallbone said. “Now get going.”
Lily and Zery got, but not before hugging Dinah and telling her they were proud of her — for what, they didn’t say. It made Nick want to roll his eyes, or maybe punch something — he wasn’t sure which.
The door closed behind them. Dinah wound her hands together. Like most of the other Smallbones Nick had seen, she had strangely colored hair — white, in her case, with black patches that might have been dyed, if a girl who wore fluffy sweaters with
It was almost nine when Smallbone finally showed up, looking fierce and carrying a dinged-up old lantern in his hand. He eyed the set table, the simmering pot of sauce, and the spaghetti draining in the sink. “Heat up them noodles and I’ll be down directly. Better make a fresh pot of coffee, too. It’s some nippy out.”
He disappeared with the dogs, who’d spent the evening whining and pacing by the door, bouncing joyfully around him.
Nick set a kettle on the stove and fumed. He was just a convenience, like the stove and the hot water and the laundry that did itself. He couldn’t go anywhere: he couldn’t do anything. And the only person he had to talk to was an evil wizard.
It was almost enough to make him wish he hadn’t run away from Beaton. But then he wouldn’t have the bookstore or the animals. And he would have Uncle Gabe.
Still, he was getting sick of being stuck in one place all the time.
Next morning, Smallbone came down carrying a large leather satchel.
Nick looked up from the slightly lumpy pancakes he had sizzling on the griddle. “What’s that?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Smallbone said unhelpfully. “Hurry up with them flapjacks, Foxkin. We’re going into town again.”
This time, they walked, with Nick carrying the satchel over his shoulder. It was heavy.
Beyond the woodshed, a clear if somewhat icy path led eastward through the woods. Under the trees it was very quiet, except for the occasional whoosh and thud of wet snow sliding off a branch. A load landed on Nick’s head, soaking his blue watch cap and sending icy trickles down the collar of his jacket.
Smallbone, of course, was untouched.
The path came out at a small pond, iced over and snow covered, plunged back into the trees, crossed a bridge over a frozen creek, and fed onto the main street of Smallbone Cove. Some kids heading for the hill behind the church with sleds stared as Smallbone and Nick stalked by behind a wave of snow.
When they reached the Mercantile, Smallbone banged on the door, right under the CLOSED sign.
A window went up on the second floor. “Go away,” a male voice shouted.
Smallbone banged some more.
Zery’s head appeared at the window. “It’s Sunday morn — Oh. It’s you.”
Smallbone stepped back and glared upward. “Tell Lily the Evil Wizard Smallbone wants to talk to her.”
Zery disappeared and the window slammed shut. Nick peered through the shop window and saw Lily hurrying out of the back with her shirt buttoned cockeyed, a this-better-be-good look on her face. Behind her were Zery and a girl about Nick’s age. Nick looked away quickly. Girls made him nervous.
Lily opened the door. “ ’Morning, Mr. Smallbone. What can I do for you?”
Smallbone met her glare with glittering intensity. “Town Meeting. Now.”
“Town Meeting’s not until June,” Lily said.
“I’m calling a special one,” Smallbone said. “Get hopping.”
Lily sighed. “You heard the evil wizard, Zery. You and Dinah start knocking on doors. I’ll take the car and hit the farms.”
“Dinah can stay here,” Smallbone said. “I got some questions for her.”
Dinah’s mother looked unhappy.
“I’ll be fine,” Dinah said. Her voice was firm, like she didn’t mind being left alone with an evil wizard and his probably evil apprentice.
“You heard the girl,” Smallbone said. “Now get going.”
Lily and Zery got, but not before hugging Dinah and telling her they were proud of her — for what, they didn’t say. It made Nick want to roll his eyes, or maybe punch something — he wasn’t sure which.
The door closed behind them. Dinah wound her hands together. Like most of the other Smallbones Nick had seen, she had strangely colored hair — white, in her case, with black patches that might have been dyed, if a girl who wore fluffy sweaters with
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