Red Hart Magic Read Online Free Page A

brought back and mean to keep a secret?
    Chris pulled his suitcase out from the closet. He had set the inn carefully on the bedside table. Luck had been with him all right. He had fully expected Nan to blurt out about his leaving her alone. But she had not. Only briefly, he wondered why. A good hiding place—this suitcase—was all he could think of right now. He tucked the inn into one corner, using his old hiking shirt as a cover. Aunt Elizabeth had already told him there was no wearing that around here. He did noteven have time to peek into the windows. But there was one thing; when he picked up the inn to put it away, he heard a rattle inside. So he was extra-careful covering it up and returning the suitcase to the closet. Maybe part of the inn was broken. He would have to wait until he had a chance to really examine it. If it was broken, he might be able to fix it.
    “Chris—Nan—”
    Supper! Chris gave a last push to the suitcase, sending it up against the back wall of the closet. He would have to watch that Clara did not move it around too much when she was cleaning. Clara was pretty energetic when she dusted and swept. Aunt Elizabeth did the good china and things herself; he noticed that last week. It was one reason why he had not started in on the model. Let Clara move one of these once or twice and probably nothing would be left.
    Nan was already in the kitchen when Chris slouched in, wearing his usual indifferent expression. She did not glance at him as she set out plates and silverware. Aunt Elizabeth told him to get the milk and fill their glasses. He had discovered that Aunt Elizabeth believed a boy should make himself useful in ways Chris did not think at all suitable. But there was no use fighting over it. He banged shut the fridge door, and went to get the glasses from the cupboard while Aunt Elizabeth dished out a mixture of stuff from the cartons.
    “Just home in time,” she observed as a gust of wind and sleet beat against the window of the small kitchen. “This is going to be a bad night. All right, we're ready now—”
    Gingerly Nan tasted the small pancake-looking things Aunt Elizabeth called Egg Foo Yong. She decided that theywere not bad, just strange, and she was hungry. There was a sauce to dabble over them—salty—then a brown rice with what looked like little bits of ham cut up fine, as well as a portion of what Aunt Elizabeth called “Chicken Chow Mein.” Nan ate steadily. Chris was cleaning up his plate, too. Though he never raised his eyes from that. It was as if eating was a business, a job one had to finish as quickly as possible. Only he need not think he was going to slide out and leave her with all the dishes. Aunt Elizabeth had said this morning they must take turns washing and wiping when Clara was not here. Nan watched narrowly for any sign Chris meant to get out of the job.
    Aunt Elizabeth was talking, talking. Mostly about this Cousin Philip who meant nothing to Nan—though, of course, he was Chris's kin. It seemed, however, that Chris did not care about him either, even whether he was in the hospital or not.
    The flow of words only stopped when they had fortune cookies. Nan smoothed out her strip of paper to read it: “What the eyes see not, the heart craves—” She repeated the words aloud.
    “Hm"—there was an odd difference in Aunt Elizabeth's smile—"What is yours, Chris?”
    “Silly stuff! ‘Clear conscience never fears midnight knocking,’” he half-mumbled.
    “Good sound advice,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “Now I have to make a long-distance call. You can go ahead with the dishes. And, Chris, see the rubbish all gets down the hall to the incinerator tonight.”

    “Yes, Aunt Elizabeth,” he replied, crumpling his fortune and throwing it into the emptied carton that had held the Egg Foo Yong. But Nan wanted to keep hers and think about it, even though she did not quite understand what it meant.

3
    The Red Hart
    Sunday at Aunt Elizabeth's was different,