Free The Spell Book Of Listen Taylor by Jaclyn Moriarty Page A

said Fancy patiently. “I just want the bucket from behind it. Kitchen towels. I’ve decided to wash the glass doors. Or will Cassie just run through them? Okay: Butter, self-rising flour, Valerio Pies. ”
    â€œI think she’ll run through them,” agreed Radcliffe, writing carefully. “Don’t wash them. Let’s go for a walk instead. Anything else?” His pen was at the ready.
    â€œYes. Spaghetti. Okay. Let’s go for a walk. Radcliffe, what do you mean it’s broken?”
    â€œWhat’s broken?”
    â€œThe vacuum, you just said it was broken. Since when?”
    â€œOh,” he said vaguely, “since the other day. I came home to surprise you at lunchtime and you weren’t here, so I smashed a glass, then I tried to vacuum it up, and the vacuum cleaner jammed, and now it’s broken.”
    â€œYou smashed a glass? Because I wasn’t here? Where was I?”
    â€œThat came out wrong. I think you were having coffee with your sister in Castle Hill. Remember that day? And Marbie brought Alissa along, you told me. They both had colds. Or at least Alissa did. That’s how you put it.”
    â€œShe prefers to be called Listen, you know.”
    â€œAnyhow, let’s go for a walk and, tell you what, I’ll take the vacuum into that new repair shop by the hardware store.”
    Thursday already, and tomorrow she had to prepare for the Zing Family Secret Meeting, and Saturday was Cassie’s birthday, and Sunday she never worked, so that only left today to write thirty chapters of her wilderness romance. Fancy stared at her computer in wonder.
    She decided to write to Cassie’s teacher.
Dear Ms. Murphy,
    Just wanted to let you know that Cassie has a loose tooth—
    But then there was a knock at the front door.
    She opened the door and there in the sun’s shadow stood a handsome stranger. Tears sprang at once into Fancy’s eyes. She blinked them away.
    The stranger was carrying a plate covered in a tea towel. He was wearing a loose T-shirt and jeans, and sneakers without socks. His shoulderswere broad, his face was tanned, and his eyes, behind small, wire-rimmed spectacles, were glinting.
    â€œ Hello there,” he said.
    At that, he transformed into the Canadian-next-door.
    She was so disconcerted, she did not open the screen door. She stood and simply stared.
    â€œ Not in any way intending to bother you,” he continued, in a slightly formal voice. “But I’ve baked you an apology cake. My brother from Canada. The other day. I just wanted to apologize for him. He’s a good guy but not exactly—and I just about died when he told you that apocryphal story of his. I could tell it bothered you, and I just about died, and now I am here to apologize.”
    â€œOh!” cried Fancy, in a flutter. “The man who ate his arm! I wasn’t bothered by that story at all! I mean, I didn’t believe a word of course. Ate his own arm! And what about the blood loss from the wound in his leg…Anyway, but I write wilderness romances. That’s my occupation. So, see, bear and cougar stories are fine ! My characters are always running from cougars and into the arms of handsome strangers. They don’t usually eat their own limbs, of course, because then there’d be no arms to run into…But, anyway, it’s my career! I know it must sound strange, me, a mother in the suburbs, writing wilderness romances, and the only person I ever slept with my whole life is my husband!”
    There was silence for a moment.
    Fancy opened the screen door, and it let out its usual squeal.
    â€œI could fix that for you.” He was looking at the door.
    â€œNo! No! I can do that! All it needs is a bit of WD-40!”
    â€œI agree,” he said, with that odd little smile. “I still think my brother bothered you, so please take this maple cake. Okay?”
    He used one foot to hold open the screen door as he