Page 27 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Morning, birdie,” she said.

“Morning, Magda. Magda’s entourage,” Esther replied.

“Esther, this is Jamie and Mr. Dick Van Dyke.”

“I’mJamie,” the man said, handing the leash to Esther. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Only because your father was a stick-in-the-mud about baby names,” Magda grumbled.

“Yeah, Ma, because a Dick Van Dyke Nutterdefinitelywouldn’t have had his ass kicked on the playground every day.”

Magda sniffed, waving him off as she climbed the stairs.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie,” Esther said, laughing, before crouching down to scratch behind the dog’s long, velvet ears. “And you, too, Mr. Van Dyke.”

“He’s a good boy, even if he is getting old,” Magda crooned, bending over to pat the dog’s neck.

“Who? Jamie or Dick Van Dyke?” Esther asked.

“Oh, I’m a very good boy,” Jamie said with a wink and went back to the truck for a big cardboard box.

He climbed after Magda, and Esther followed with the dog, who heaved himself up the two steps onto the platform deck as if he were summiting Mount Everest.

“Not as light on your feet as your namesake, are you?” Esther said as Dick lumbered across the deck.

“That dog was born old. He’s always been like this,” Jamie said.

Esther laughed.

“You leave my baby alone,” Magda said, her hands on her hips as Jamie set the box down just inside the door.

“I thought I was your baby,” Jamie replied cheekily.

Magda rolled her eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments and get out of here. I seem to remember you promising to fix my garage door today.”

Her tone was sharp, but there was nothing but affection on her face. Jamie bent to kiss his mother on the cheek.

“I’m going, I’m going. I’m heading there now.”

She reached up and patted his cheek. “Be good. Be safe.”

Jamie nodded with a smile before hopping off the deck and getting into his SUV.

Esther got a bowl of water for Dick Van Dyke. When she turned back toward the kitchen, she found Magda looking at her tarot deck on the worn kitchen table. Magda sat and picked up the deck, turning it over and over in her worn hands while Esther unhooked the leash from the dog’s collar. She began to shuffle, the cards flying between her fingers, slotting in between one another so rapidly that Esther’s jaw dropped.

“You too?” she asked, a little breathless.

“Cartomancy? Oh, no. Never had much skill with that. But I’m a mean poker player,” Magda said with a smile.

Esther had sensed the magic in Magda as clearly as her own last night, a feeling that remained today, but it wasn’t necessarily something you could come right out and ask. “Oh, hey, are you a witch? No? Hmmm. Yes, I am feeling okay. No, I don’t want to talk to your pastor. Thanks anyway. See you again never.”

After all, everyone’s wrong once in a while.

They circled each other, in a manner of speaking. Magda shuffled the cards while looking at Esther, who was watching from across the table. Dick Van Dyke, not caring about any human tension, had melted into a basset hound puddle by the wood burning stove.

“So,” Esther said.

“So,” Magda replied. “What else can you do, birdie?”