One More Section to See

You look back toward the mansion. "There's more?" you ask.

"Just the garage, the tennis court, and the wine cellar," says Allison. "Not a cellar, really, since it's above ground -- this is Florida, after all."

"Let's take a look, then," you suggest, and the two of you walk out of the water and across the beach.

As you wash your sandy feet in the outdoor shower near the pool, you realize something. "Speaking of this being Florida -- what about hurricanes? I guess if there's one on a path for us, I can't write in the notebook to make it hit Texas instead."

Allison laughs. "Yeah, we can't do much about that, and even Mirela -- well, she's always been a little cagey with me about the full extent of her powers, so I'm not sure if she can't control the weather, or just thinks she shouldn't. But she has this whole section of the coastline charmed, so we'd still get plenty of wind and rain, but flooding and damage will be minimal. Don't go spreading that around town, though."

You slide your shoes back on. "I'm not sure anyone would believe me. But wouldn't they make us evacuate from here?"

With a mysterious smile, Allison responds, "The cops already know not to bother this house."

You didn't notice it from the upstairs windows, but the garage is off to one side of the house, with a full-size tennis court behind it.

"Do you play?" you ask Allison as you walk across the court surface.

"Not very often," she admits, "although --" She looks around as if to see if anyone else is listening, then leans toward you a bit and says in a conspiratorial tone, "I may have used my notebook to turn myself into Serena Williams a few times."

"What?! Seriously?"

"And brought Venus here, and some other tennis players, to play against them and -- other stuff. But if you want to do something else with this space, I'd be fine with it."

"I didn't even have to get you drunk for you to admit that!" you point out.

"Speaking of which..." Allison opens a door at the end of the court, and you're in a relatively small room that holds several hundred wine bottles, the whites in glass-door refrigeration units and the reds just on shelves.

You pull one at random off a shelf and see it's a Bordeaux that's over 40 years old. "Do you know anything about wine?" you ask.

She shrugs. "I know everything I've had out of here is good, and it gets magically replaced with a new bottle after you open one -- sometimes the same stuff, sometimes something different. Come on, unless you're really thirsty."

You put the bottle back and follow her into the garage, which you're a little surprised to see is only big enough to hold two cars -- and there's only one currently -- plus three bicycles over to one side.

The car is a dark green Jaguar convertible. "Yours?" you ask Allison.

"You really have to ask?"

You notice the steering wheel is on the left. "American model, though," you observe.

She rolls her eyes. "I think if I could alter all of reality with my notebook, the first thing I'd do is make it so you bloody Americans drive on the correct side of the road." She actually seems to be getting angry, but then she brightens. "I'm just kidding -- had a little fender-bender soon after I moved in here. Made it go away, of course, but I haven't forgotten."

She walks over and reaches into her car to pull out a remote control for the garage. "Here, you can take this one -- I'll make a duplicate later -- and pull your car in."

Your car -- it seems like hours ago that you'd pulled your Honda into the driveway of the mansion.

You take your phone out of your purse to check the time. It was hours ago.

You pull your car in, and Allison helps you carry the grocery bags from the garage into the kitchen. You have to dump all the food that was supposed to be cold, and there's not that much left. You put a jar of peanut butter into the otherwise-empty refrigerator and feel like you've accomplished something.

"I am feeling a bit peckish," says Allison. "Normally, I wouldn't use my notebook for something like this, but we could use it to create a feast for us -- or we could behave like normal people and go out to eat, or order something to be delivered."

You realize you're hungry, too.