2.

Fanny had made good use of the extra space.

All of her bags had been opened, their contents arranged in a kind of shop-window display: five kinds of fresh-cut flowers peeking from an overcrowded vase, wedding invitations spread in a fan on the table, spools of ribbon and lace, piles of fabric in various shades of pink, three small cakes, and many other things. Clearly center and meant to be focal was a high white pile of frills and laces that trailed off the couch and stretched nearly to the hearth. It was the dress in which Fanny had become the second Mrs. Hatter.

Sophie's heart sank down to her ankles. "Fanny," she said weakly. "How wonderful."

"Oh, darling, do you like it?" Fanny gushed. "It needs to be altered, of course, but Mrs. Tailor says it's in wonderful condition. Will you wear it?"

Would she wear it? The dress was lovely, being Fanny's, but it was hardly what Sophie had in mind. For some time she'd been perfecting a mental sketch of the dress she would someday sew for herself, just as she had sewn Martha's. It never occurred to her that one might be provided... certainly not this particular dress.

Fanny waited, still smiling. Sophie was preparing herself to answer in some fashion, though she wasn't certain which, when the front door opened, Howl's ruined spell gave a wheeze, and Martha hurried in, shouldering past Michael and Howl without even an "excuse me." She placed herself between her sister and mother as if to protect one from the other. Her sleeves were rolled back, half her hair was flying loose, and she was covered in flour. She looked positively fierce.

Michael said sheepishly, "Martha," and Sophie said, "Now, wait a moment," but Martha didn't seem to hear. She swept the room with a hard glance and said quietly, "What's all this, Mother?"

"Just a dress and some flowers," said Fanny in the same tone. The friction was electric, and Sophie thought, as she stepped between them, that they were in for a fight sooner or later - and better later than now. She noticed wearily that Howl and Michael had slipped away in the commotion.

"Speaking of flowers, Fanny, those lilies are gorgeous! I think I prefer the white ones - "

"Oh, so do I," said Fanny, snapping back into her smile. "They'll go so nicely with pink or beige or even orange, Sophie! I've been thinking about your color scheme, and it seems to me, personally - "

Fanny was off as if there had never been an interruption. Martha stood back, arms crossed, and watched her mother guide Sophie around the room, pointing out this ribbon and that fabric, encouraging her to sample the cakes. The cakes irritated Martha more than any of the rest. To think Fanny had gone to another bakery...! But no, she hadn't. Martha saw by Sophie's placating glance that they were Cesari's. That meant Fanny had taken care to visit when Martha was busy or out.

Fine, Martha thought: if Mother wants a war, I'll give her one. She marched right over and calmly plucked the paper from Fanny's inattentive hand. "Sophie gets final say on the guest list," she said when Fanny turned. "It's only fair. Here, Sophie."

Fanny looked momentarily disgruntled. Sophie gave a tiny smile behind her stepmother's back. "If you don't mind," she said to Fanny. "I do have it mostly worked out, anyway."

"Darling, of course I don't mind!" laughed Fanny, but of course she did. She had a little more to say about the flowers, and then she swept out as suddenly as she'd come, leaving her display to sprawl about the sitting room. Sophie stood in the middle of it, clutching the list, and managed for an instant to forget about Martha and her disappearing fiance and even Calcifer, who she had noticed was not in the hearth. She was thinking so hard and so fast about ribbons, flowers, and fabrics that she didn't hear the door open and close again behind her.

It would be all right, she told herself. Who cared about ribbons, anyway? She and Lettie would manage all the important details. If Fanny and possibly Martha wanted to see to the others, then that was just as well... but oh, they'd nearly fought just now. Martha wasn't patient, and Fanny could be overbearing. Sophie would have to watch them every minute and keep the peace.

"Martha," she began, but the silence was empty. She turned and found Martha gone, with only a small ring of flour to prove that she had ever been there. All the air seemed to go out of Sophie then. She stared at the flour, then stared at the paper in her hand. There were so many names she didn't recognize. Fanny's friends, probably, or old customers she didn't remember... some of them had probably known her father, known Sophie and Lettie when they were girls. What would they think of this pink and orange spectacle Fanny was planning?

Sophie's feet carried her automatically through the hall, toward the kitchen for a rag. She was still looking at her list and thinking of the people who might be on it, and she did not notice Howl and Suliman at the worktable, bent over the spell. She also failed to notice that their conversation cut off when she came into the room.

"Sophie?" said Howl.

"Oh, you're back," said Sophie. The helplessness in her voice betrayed her; she tried to make up for it with a brighter, "How do, Ben?"

"Fine, just fine," said Wizard Suliman, but his eyebrows were up. She hadn't been quick enough.

Howl stood. He clapped Suliman's shoulder as he came around the table and slipped an arm around Sophie, leading her gently into the kitchen. He ignored her protests that everything was fine and waved off her apology for interrupting, and in very little time (for Howl), she had a hot cup of tea in her hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said when she objected. "Drink that, please, Miss Hatter. All of it, and then we'll talk. Go on."

Sophie sipped. It took her awhile to finish because Howl liked his tea to have the taste and consistency of liquid sugar. When she was done, he took the cup away and surprised her by lifting her, like a child, to sit on the counter.

"Now," he said, hands on her knees. "What say you tell me what's making your forehead wrinkle?"

What should she tell him? The list in its entirety was too long. Mentioning the possible impropriety would only hurt his feelings, and Howl, being a man, couldn't be expected to understand her fears about Lettie. The other reasons seemed too trivial, so she told him about Martha and Fanny and the fight that had almost happened in the sitting room. She put a lot of feeling into it to make it seem like her only concern and paused a few times for effect. The pausing wasn't difficult, as she found the warmth and location of his hands very distracting.

Howl seemed to listen. He nodded in all of the right places, and when she finished speaking, he told her what she had already decided. "We'll just have to watch them and keep them working separately. I would think you'd want that anyway. Forgive me, but Fanny strikes me as slightly overbearing."

"She means well," said Sophie, and Howl said, "I know," and they smiled at one another. Something tight released in Sophie's chest, and when Howl lifted her down from the counter, she kissed him impulsively.

This kiss wasn't much like the other. As it deepened it filled her with warmth that was very different from the tea. Where had he learned to turn his head that way, just so, when she was so clumsy about it? Did he know that his fingers on her back tickled wonderfully, gave her shivers, or was he guessing? And the other arm, curled around her - for surely she would float away if he didn't hold on - was so perfect, so fitting, that for a few beautiful seconds she forgot all about Fanny and the mess in the sitting room.

It couldn't last. Sophie remembered the ring of flour and pulled away, smiling as she reached behind him for the drawer with the cleaning cloths in it. "Of course," he groaned when he saw it. "You're incorrigible."

"Ah, ah, ah," Sophie mimicked. "Now that's the pot calling the kettle black, Wizard Howl!" It earned her another wry smile, and she realized she'd been trying to provoke one. Before Howl could respond with another quip, Calcifer floated into the kitchen, smoldering in more than one sense of the word.

"Howl," he said flatly. "Your friend the king - "

"- isn't feeling so friendly at the moment, I'd wager." Howl sighed, looking put-upon. "If he had his way, I'd live at the castle with a collar on my neck, just like one of his hounds!"

"Is he very cross?" said Sophie.

"You could say that," said Calcifer. Sophie didn't like the meaning look he shared with Howl. She was all too familiar with that sort of look. It meant they had a secret.

Well! If they were going to have secret conversations, they didn't need Sophie in the room. She pulled free of Howl's arm and marched for the sitting room, ignoring the bemused look from Suliman. When she came back, they were all at the worktable, leaning again over the spell.

"It's good workmanship," Suliman was saying. "Solid, technically correct... I don't know why it isn't working."

"I do," said Calcifer. "He's a nervous mess, and this spell is delicate. It requires dutiful concentration."

"Don't quote rudiments at me," Howl warned. "Who do you have to thank for your continued existence, you great birthday candle?"

"Sophie," said Calcifer, and they shared another look. This one wasn't at all difficult to decipher, and it provoked one of Suliman's rare smiles. Sophie waited around the corner for another minute, but it seemed they were finished talking. She set her rag on the banister and went up to shower, feeling, if possible, more troubled.

What was Howl nervous about? She locked the bathroom door and untied her hair, turning the water to hot. He hadn't said anything to her about it... but of course he hadn't. They were all working so hard to keep Sophie from worrying. She was being too transparent lately. Howl and Suliman must think she was wearing a bit thin after the stress of Martha's wedding, and maybe she was - but that didn't mean she needed to be coddled!

Sophie stepped gingerly into the water. Since Calcifer had left their fireplace, all the taps ran cold. Speak of the devil, he knew something. Sophie had seen it in the look he'd given Howl in the kitchen. He had had something specific to say about the king, but Howl had cut him off.

Tiptoe around her, would they? Protect her, would they? There was nothing for it but to give them a taste of their own medicine. Sophie washed her hair out, dried and dressed and made herself look presentable, and fairly skipped downstairs to where the men were. She found them at the worktable, more or less the way she'd left them. Howl was leaning into it, pressing something flat while Suliman sawed at it with a small personal knife that wasn't meant for metalwork. Only Calcifer, hovering over the table with a dull expression, noticed her entrance. "Going out?" he said, as if it hardly mattered.

The metal piece snapped, and Howl looked round quickly. "Ah - are you going out, Sophie dear? Now?"

The "dear" rankled under present circumstances, but Sophie allowed it. She gave them all her vaguest smile. "I thought I'd go for a short walk. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," said Howl, glancing at Calcifer and Suliman, "but I heard it was supposed to rain."

"Pour, really," said Calcifer, whose dullness had increased threefold. "You don't want to get caught in that."

"It's also going to be dark soon," said Wizard Suliman. This, for what it was worth, was probably true.

"Oh, what a bunch of old worriers," laughed Sophie. She had been edging backward out of the room, wondering how far she could go before someone protested outright. They watched her, Calcifer dully and Howl casually and Suliman with his usual frown. Howl opened his mouth to say something, but she didn't get the chance to hear it because the dismantled spell started choking and Michael came around the corner at a run and skidded into Sophie.

The word "winded" didn't do him justice. He caught Sophie's elbow to steady her, but she ended up steadying him because of the way his knees were knocking together. Howl got a chair under him, and Suliman ducked into the kitchen while the other three bent around the breathless apprentice wizard, who was trying to muster up enough breath to speak.

Sophie thought she heard the words "street" and "saw me" and "bloody fast." Howl placed a comforting hand on Michael's shoulder, but Sophie noticed that he was gripping it a bit hard. "Howl," she said, and he let go, seeming dazed.

Suliman returned with a glass of water. Michael drank it loudly and unsteadily. Everyone was quiet for a long moment, waiting.

"All right, Michael?" said Howl. Michael's boyish features had taken on the worried, distracted look he sometimes had after an argument with Martha. He didn't look all right.

Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, Michael cleared his throat and said, "The weather's strange in Kingsbury today," to nobody in particular.

No one spoke. Calcifer had lost his dullness altogether, and Suliman's face was blank. Howl's eyes were on Michael's, and they seemed very wizardly.

"Strange how?" Sophie pressed. "Michael?"

Michael took a sudden interest in his hands. One had some scrapes on the palm, as if he'd fallen on it. The other had scratches on the outside. "Mostly it's just raining," he said, with a brave attempt at sounding casual.

Sophie wasn't having it. Since none of the men seemed inclined to explain, she let go of Michael and marched into the foyer. The knob was still set to Kingsbury. She opened the door.

The wind was fierce and, as the Howl had predicted, it was raining. A strong, wet gust slammed the door shut again, but not before Sophie got a chance to see that the street was full of mewing, squirming, furry bodies - as was the air.

It was, in fact, raining kittens.