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“Yeah,” Cassie said happily, delighted that Izzy felt it too, that it was real. “And the rain?”
“Yeah, and the rain.” She waggled her fingers just like Cassie had done, and then pulled her hand back into the apartment to inspect it, shaking her head.
Cassie wanted to step through the door. She wanted to go to Venice. She wasn’t scared by what she saw; there was nothing to fear here, only something to wonder at and delight in.
“Don’t,” Izzy said, as if reading Cassie’s mind. “What if you can’t get back? What if you get stuck in Venice in the rain in your socks and you can’t get back?”
Cassie hesitated, Izzy’s caution an anchor to her joy, holding her back.
“I’ll take a photo!” Izzy said. She reached into her pajama pocket and pulled out her phone to take a shot of the doorway and the street beyond. Then she stepped back and took a few more shots, showing Cassie in front of the doorway. “Smile!” Izzy said.
Cassie smiled distractedly. She wanted to step through the door. That was all she wanted.
“Hold on, I’ll take a video,” Izzy said. “Wave your hands or something. Go.”
Cassie lifted her free hand to point to the doorway.
“Looks like Venice,” she said. “Where our hallway should be.” Then a slightly manic laugh escaped from her. “It’s crazy!”
“Put your hand in again,” Izzy instructed.
Cassie leaned into the doorway, pushing her hand through, and then taking a step and poking her head out after it.
“Cassie!” Izzy exclaimed.
Cassie felt Izzy grab her and pull her back.
“It’s really real,” Cassie said. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s enough, it’s freaking me out now.”
Before Cassie could respond Izzy grabbed the door and pushed it shut. It juddered in the frame and the women stared at it silently. Then Izzy turned her head and met Cassie’s eyes, asking a question. Cassie nodded and Izzy opened the door once more to reveal their hallway, the awkward narrow space with the door to the bathroom and their bedrooms and their coats and shoes by the entrance to the apartment. Cassie’s breath exploded out of her, relief and disappointment washing over her in successive waves.
Izzy immediately looked at her phone. Cassie crowded close, their heads touching, and they peered together at the photos Izzy had taken, the video footage of Cassie standing by the doorway and then leaningin—or leaning out?—before a yelp from Izzy and the footage was cut off.
“How is it possible?” Izzy wondered.
Cassie stood at the doorway and put her hands on her hips, only realizing as she did so that she was still holding Mr. Webber’s book, that she had been gripping it all through the miraculous discovery of Venice in their hallway. She lifted the book, thumb running over its brown leather cover. She was aware that the book felt warm in her hand now, and heavier than it had been when she had first picked it up in the bookstore.
“It’s the book,” she said, saying it as she examined the item again. It didn’t just feel heavier, it felt moresolid,as if there was more substance now between the covers.
“Huh?” Izzy grunted.
“It’s the book,” Cassie repeated. After a moment she sat down, picked up the mug of wine she hadn’t drunk, and downed it in one gulp.
“What do you mean it’s the book?” Izzy demanded.
“The Book of Doors,” Cassie said, flicking to the front of the book and reading what was written there, above where Mr. Webber had left his own note. “‘... any door is every door.’ I was thinking about that street, that doorway in the place I stayed,” Cassie said. “I was holding the book and thinking about it and then I felt...” She shuddered.
“Felt what?” Izzy asked.
“Felt strange. And then I opened the door and Venice was there. The Venice I was just thinking about.” Cassie felt wonder dawn within her like the best and most beautiful sunrise ever.Could it be...?
Izzy stared at her, absorbing this. Then she said, “Are you out of your mind? You think a book did that?”
Cassie shrugged, with an expression inviting other explanations.
“I know you love books, Cass, but magic books that can transport you across the world?”
