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Chapter One

What -- Margaret Lavchek asked herself -- was magic really for? As far as she was concerned, people did not understand magic properly. Magic was not to change things. No, magic was a way of keeping things the way they were. So as Maggie -- the name she liked people to use -- put aside Ancient Tales of Magic, she made the wish that nothing about her father had changed.

Considering Maggie's age -- she was almost thirteen -- she was both tall and strong. That, and her frank brown eyes, plus a willing smile, added to her outwardly assured manner. But as the plane moved into its steady descent, it was with feelings of nervousness and a- frowning face that Maggie looked out the porthole. She was trying to compare what she saw below with the map her father had sent her.

Was that the village of Westport she was seeing? If it was Westport, she should be over the Westport River with its two branches meeting like the letter Y and flowing into the sea. Sure enough, she could make it out. That made her certain she was looking right down at Sawdy Pond, where her father and his wife had taken a cottage for the month of August.

Between visits -- Christmas and August -- Maggie spoke to her dad at least twice a week. And she got along with Joanna, his wife of two years. Summer visits with him, now with them -- they lived in Boston -- had always been a frenzy of doing-things, going places, movies, museums, concerts, one long party.

But below, in that same lakeside cottage, was her new half sister, Linda, four months old. Maggie was not sure how she felt about Linda, or how Linda's coming into the family was goingto change things. Maggie scolded herself for being so apprehensive. But then, since leaving her home in Seattle, Washington, that morning, she had traveled for seven hours. She was tired and wanted to be there.

From her jeans pocket Maggie pulled out an eggshaped, multisided glass crystal, her mother's early birthday gift. She dangled it from its string so it would throw flashing bars of rainbow colors in all directions. It made Maggie smile to remember what her mother had called it: "Pocket magic."

The voice of the captain filled the cabin: "Flight attendants please prepare for landing."

The plane slid further toward the coast, then over the ocean itself That morning Maggie had looked -down on the Pacific. Here was the Atlantic. Coast to coast in one day. The realization gave her goose bumps.

Stuffing the crystal back into her pocket, Maggie gazed at the sea and, as always, tried to think in magical ways. Things were better that way. So she decided the water was like a roughened silver plate, while the speedboat trailing a feathery white wake was the fingertip of Neptune, the Roman sea god, making his long, drawnout signature.

Right across from where Maggie sat, up by the door, the flight attendant named Karen -- she had told Maggie to call her that -- buckled herself tightly into a special seat and flashed a smile.

"Be there soon, hon," Karen said.

Maggie, wishing the woman would not always say "honey," or "hon," nonetheless returned the smile before looking out the window again. Now they were swinging sharply and the sound of the airplane changed, becoming loud. There was a sudden bump. Maggie closed her eyes: "I'm on a magic carpet," she told herself. "The bumps are the snatching hands of goblins trying to shake me loose." Only when she felt a tap on her knee did she open her eyes.

"The wheels lowering," Karen informed her. "Now remember, honey, we'll wait until everyone is out before I take you to Dad. It'll be your dad who'll be meeting you, right?"

Maggie nodded.

"When did you see him last?"

"Christmas."

"Oh, you must miss him so."

"I do."

For a moment Maggie wanted to tell Karen how nervous she was.

"What's he do?"

"Business," Maggie said vaguely. It was something about insurance. She was not sure.

"Oh, you're going to have such a good time," Karen said.

Karen's words were the same her mother had used. Why, Maggie wondered, did people say things like that? Did it mean that if she had a rotten time it would be her fault? All the same she felt obliged to reply, "I know."

Then quickly she added, "My father rented a log cabin cottage on a pond, well, lake actually, for August. I've never been there, but he said it's on the water and cool."

"Lucky you. Can you swim?"

"Yes. I'll be thirteen in three weeks."

"A teenager!"

Maggie blushed and turned away, asking herself why she'd wanted to tell her age. Instead of answering her question, she peered down into people's backyards. Someone was getting a suntan. Kids were splashing in a turquoise-colored pool.

Suddenly, before she could prepare herself, the runway was close and getting closer. It must have been this way, Maggie told herself, when Dorothy landed in Oz. But the next moment the plane landed with hardly a bump.

Karen spoke into the phone by her seat, filling the cabin with her voice. "Welcome to Providence, Rhode Island. The local time is five-o-five, Eastern standard time. The temperature is ninety-six."

Some of the people in the cabin groaned.

Karen winked at Maggie. "Please remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened until the captain has brought the plane to a complete stop.

"On behalf of Captain Wooten and your entire Chicago-based flight crew, we want to thank you for flying United Airlines and hope to see you all real soon."

Karen hung up the phone and leaned out of her seat toward Maggie.

"Just a few minutes, hon."

Suddenly Maggie missed her mom. Her home. Her friends. Maybe Joanna would not want her around now that she had a baby of her own...