Page 55 of Summer L.A.W.

The teapot turned gracefully midair, pouring itself into her cup. Around them, plates, forks, and muffins drifted upward in slow, graceful spirals. Rayna’s sword, leaning in the corner, rose too, spinning lazily like a weathervane.

Joell didn’t even look up from buttering her toast. “Is this your idea of brunch entertainment?”

Magda flushed. “Minor side effect. I may have over-aerated the binding portion.”

“Minor?” Rayna ducked as a rogue biscuit zoomed by.

Wally hopped onto the table, trying to corral the floating food. He managed to pouch a muffin midair, earning a smattering of applause from Brianna.

“Okay,” Joell said, pointing her butter knife like a gavel. “What exactly did you do, and should we be signing waivers?”

Magda folded her hands in her lap. “It’s nothing serious. A little experiment. I was only testing a formula for⁠—”

“For love,” Brianna finished brightly. “She told me last night after the critique group. Said she was inspired by all of us writing our happily-ever-afters and figured, why wait for one when she can brew one?”

“Brianna!” Magda hissed, face flaming.

But it was too late. Rayna’s grin could’ve lit the chandelier. “So, this is personal research? Excellent. Maybe next time start with decaf instead of dark magic.”

Joell leaned her chin on her hand. “If it works, you could bottle it. Love Potion No. 9.99 plus tax. We’d fund the next disaster’s repairs in a week.”

“Can we not commercialize my romantic despair?” Magda muttered.

Chad entered just in time to duck a levitating spoon. “Morning, ladies. Why does the room look like a Mary Poppins remake?”

“We’re defying gravity and health codes,” Joell said dryly. “Magda’s new venture.”

Chad blinked at the airborne muffins, then at Magda. “Please tell me this is at least FDA-adjacent.”

She tried for dignity. “It’s perfectly safe. The greenhouse loved it.”

“The greenhouse?” Chad echoed.

“Plants are very responsive to emotional energy,” Magda insisted.

Wally squeaked, apparently seconding the motion.

By the time the muffins finally drifted back to earth, the dining room looked like a bakery had exploded. Joell had a croissant in her hair. Rayna’s sword was embedded point-first in the ceiling. And Magda was pretending not to notice that her teapot had developed stage fright and refused to come down.

Chad started sweeping crumbs into a dustpan while Wally stuffed the survivors into his pouch. “Next time,” he said, “maybe test your experiments outside the mansion.”

Magda bent to retrieve a spoon from under the table. “It wasn’t supposed to affect people outside the greenhouse. Or muffins.”

He arched a brow. “Then what was it supposed to affect?”

She hesitated, cheeks warming again. “My plants. I was testing their feelings and emotions. The kind of… buoyancy that comes from love.”

Chad looked up from the mess. “Buoyancy?”

She sighed, giving up the last shred of dignity. “During critique night, Brianna read one of her love scenes. She described the heroine as floating in bliss. I may have borrowed that phrasing when I worded the spell.”

Realization dawned on his face. “So, when you told the universe you wanted to recreate the feeling of floating⁠—”

“My words were taken literally.”

Chad’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Magda, you don’t need magic to make someone feel lightheaded around you.”

She froze, not sure if he was teasing or sincere. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”