Free Legacy by Molly Cochran Page B

blamed us,” Mrs. Ainsworth said. “He said that we’d fostered Agatha’s insanity. He’d never believed in witches, you see, and Agatha may have hidden her talents from him at the beginning.”
    “So of course when she could no longer hide them, he interpreted her abilities as psychosis.”
    “We tried to keep in touch with you, but all our letters were returned. Also, there was such a fuss made in the news that we thought perhaps he was right to take you away.”
    Something occurred to me. “You weren’t at the Halloween party,” I said.
    “No.” Agnes looked at her hands. “We keep to ourselves these days.”
    “But Hattie said that all twenty-seven families were represented. Who was there for the Ainsworths?”
    They both looked at me then. “Why, you, dear,” Mrs. Ainsworth said.
    “Oh.” I blinked. “Everyone knew from the beginning, then,” I said. “Everyone except me.”
    The old woman clucked. “Shameful,” she said. “Keeping you in the dark like that. Naturally, as soon as you’d matriculated at the school, word spread like wildfire. That’s why we’ve made ourselves known to you. After what happened at the restaurant, Hattie thought that . . . well . . .”
    “That I’d need a family?” I suggested.
    “We’re sorry that it’s such a notorious family,” Mrs. Ainsworth said. “But at least you know that there are two people who care about you.”
    “And care very much,” Agnes added.
    My eyes filled. My heart felt as if it would burst. I wasn’t alone. I belonged here with these women, and with Hattie Scott, and Eric. And with Peter.
    I belonged with them all.
    Finally, I belonged.

C HAPTER
•
T WELVE

SORCIERE
    There are all kinds of magic, I’ve learned. Some is spectacular, and bends your mind just to think about it. But there’s other magic, too, quiet magic that maybe you don’t even notice unless you’re looking for it.
    Hattie says that magic, like love, has to be believed to be seen. Once I became willing to see I noticed magic everywhere, in the trees and the wind and the sea, in the way everything changes all the time, but is still beautiful.
    Whitfield was full to the brim with magic. My job was full of magic too. Hattie kept me on even after the Halloween rush, teaching me how to make all sorts of soups and stews, mulled cider and hot chocolate, plus whatever exotic things she came up with. Once we made a dish called
yang gobchang-gui
(broiled beef tripe and chitterlings) (!!!), infused with an anti-anxiety spell, for two Korean students who wandered in tense and left mellow.
    School, on the other hand, wasn’t magical. It was justcommon sense not to try reality-bending things in front of the Muffies. But I was doing better there, too. Thanks to Peter, people started opening up to me a little. I rarely had to eat lunch alone anymore. Verity and Cheswick issued a standing invitation for me to run with them on the indoor track after school. I think it was their way of apologizing for wanting to kill me that day.
    I visited the relatives a couple of times a week. I even talked them into having dinner at the restaurant a few times. Hattie cooked for them on those occasions, though. I guess they needed more magic than I could come up with.
    I grew to understand exactly why my dad had fallen in love with my mother. If Agatha had been anything like Agnes, he’d only have had to listen to her discourse for five minutes on
Le Morte d’Arthur
, and he’d be hooked.
    Mrs. Ainsworth tried to teach me tatting, which is lace-making, but all of my efforts came out looking like maps of the Yucatán. So we switched to quilting, where I fared a little better, although my only task was to cut out the little squares. Still, I liked it because it gave me a chance to just sit with her. Everything about her was soft and gentle and cloudlike. I realized that, even when I didn’t know she existed, I’d missed her.
    She told me I could call her Elizabeth, but that just seemed