Gypsy Magic - J.R. Rain Page 0,11

at him. “But I warn you, the smell inside is an instant cure for your appetite.”

Marty flashed me another of those glittering grins. “I’ll chance it.”

And with that, he followed me into the fragrant foyer, shutting the front door gently behind him.

“So, you said you weren’t surprised by the state of my apple tree,” I started. “Is there an apple-tree disease or pest invading orchards around here or something?”

“Not exactly.”

“Those sounds weren’t ghosts?” Finn asked as he walked into the kitchen and studied Marty with caution. Even after Marty had tramped very noisily across the kitchen in his heavy work boots, Finn still didn’t seem convinced he was human. That was probably owing to the fact that Finn could see ghosts as easily as I could—in 3D—like they were flesh and bone.

“Finn, this is our neighbor… McFly.”

Marty blinked and looked at me in confusion. “Um... what?”

I laughed because I thought my new pet-name for him was pretty funny. Maybe I was the only one? “You know… like Marty McFly? Back to the Future?”

“No one has called me McFly since high school,” he returned the laugh.

“Well, you can’t say that anymore, can you?”

“Great Scott!” Marty said as he faced Finn, who laughed.

“This is Marty, Finn,” I introduced them, thinking it felt really good to laugh again. “He’s our new neighbor and he brought us a gift basket.”

“Nice to meet you, Finn,” the man in question said. “And since your mom started calling me McFly and I have to admit, I actually kinda like it, you can too… if you want.”

“Nice to meet you, McFly,” Finn answered and looked up at him with a curious smile. It was at that moment that I could tell Marty Zach had just made himself a new friend. And it wasn’t surprising. Marty put off the energy of a man half his age: I’d noticed him eyeing Finn’s abandoned Gameboy, which was sitting on the counter, with interest. I should have known he’d be the gaming sort. He had ‘overgrown teenager’ written all over him.

“Thanks for the basket,” Finn said as he eyed it. “What’s in it?”

“Well, let’s find out!” Marty lifted the gift basket and plopped it on the counter. “I did my best to include a sampling of everything Haven Hollow has to offer.” The wicker basket was deep and, just by rattling it, I got the sense he’d stuffed it full to bursting with goodies. Even now, enormous round suckers strained the top of the cellophane—cellophane that had been taped together in some places, to keep the insides from coming out. It was clearly homemade.

Finn’s pale face appeared behind the plastic wrap as he eyed the contents with curiosity. He was what Mom called ‘lanky’, all sprawling limbs and no muscle tone. No matter how voracious his appetite, he never gained an ounce, a trait I envied. Turn him sideways and he’d disappear. I wondered if the fact that he was young and always losing himself in his imagination was what had drawn the poltergeist to him.

Or maybe it was just that, as a child, he was comparatively helpless. Harder to frighten the gypsy woman with the banishing potions and magic.

“Cool t-shirt,” Marty enthused, dropping to his haunches so he’d be on Finn’s level. “You like Star Trek?”

“Not really, but I like Star Wars. Did you see Rise of Skywalker? It was super cool.”

“I did see it and I liked it too,” Marty answered with a quick nod.

Finn eyed him narrowly. “You like Jurassic Park too?”

“Of course, man!” he said, shaking his head like that question was too easy to answer.

“What about Predator?”

“Get to the choppa!” Marty sang out, in a near perfect rendition of Arnold.

Finn nodded. Marty had passed his tests. But then he eyed Marty’s shirt with the supreme skepticism you only find in very young boys. “What’s up with your t-shirt? You get it at a convention or something? It’s kind of weird.”

Marty glanced down at his shirt with a frown. “I made it, actually.”

“You made it?” Finn asked, his tone sounding awe-struck, like he didn’t realize one could make t-shirts—like they only came from Target and magically appeared there.

“Yeah, I’m a marketing consultant and a graphic designer and I’m also a handyman.” He pointed at the lettering on the shirt. “This one was a potential logo for the local cleaning service. They went with a different design, but I got to keep the shirt.”

So I had a part-time handyman and a full-time graphic designer for a neighbor? Maybe my