Destiny's Magic by Martha Hix Page A

Eugene folded his arms over his chest. “Too many wishes weaken my power.”
    They would not—must not!—take the chance of exhausting it.
    That conversation occurred in June. Phoebe now had to consider the cog in the wheel of Burke’s birthday. It was not going as planned.
    Phoebe gave heed to her good-looking nephew. She must work on her purpose for being on the Yankee Princess, but would ease into it. “I’d sure like a tour of your fine new steamboat. Everybody in the family is curious about it. And about you. Aren’t you the least bit curious about your folks?” Under no circumstances would she mention Eugene Jinnings. “Shame on you, taking your anger out on Fitz,” she further chided. “Your grandfather deserves more than a cold shoulder.”
    â€œHas he gone lame or imbecilic?”
    â€œNo. But his rheumatism—”
    â€œHe’s been crying rheumatism all my life and most of his. Never stopped him. He can find his way to my office, or to my address in New Orleans. He is always welcome.”
    â€œCallous, a young man demanding an old one travel.”
    â€œDrop it, Aunt Phoebe.”
    â€œDo you know Connor and India have a new baby girl?”
    Burke set his glass on the table with deliberate purpose. “Of course I know about Pays. And you can quit trying to make me feel like the heel of the century. I visit my brother and his family. And I visit Fitz whenever you and your cohorts are away from Memphis. You don’t know about any of that because I asked them all not to mention my visits. ’Nuff said.”
    While the family’s keeping secrets from her rather miffed Phoebe, she took his admission as good news. Furthermore, guilt crawled in her heart. A terrible injustice had been done to the most kindly of her nephews. He was always the one to turn to, yet Tessa’s wish had turned him away.
    He had no use for the magic lamp. But shouldn’t he be offered a chance at it? Eugene had enough power for three more tasks. Surely so. Burke deserved his own wishes. He might need to get free of a married lady, since Phoebe wasn’t certain of the exact moment he’d laid eyes on Susan.
    â€œEnough has not been said, nephew. You and I must talk alone. It’s imperative.”
    He shot her a look that would have curdled milk.
    Right then the Yankee Princess gave a lurch that sent dishes and silverware sliding down the table. She ground to a stop, her velvet draperies swinging from north to south.
    Burke threw his napkin to the table, and was on his feet and on the way to check out the matter before Phoebe had a chance to further her case.
    Susan blanched. “Whatever could be wrong?”
    â€œIf you’re worried your husband is sabotaging this boat, don’t. You’re in good hands. The O’Briens will protect you. And steamboats lose power from time to time. Probably a small problem in the engine room. We’ll be under way again in no time.”
    â€œLet us hope.” Susan placed her hands in her lap and chewed her bottom lip before asking, “May I be nosy?”
    â€œAsk away. I’m an open book.” Mostly.
    â€œFrom what I gather, there’s a hideous estrangement in your family. Last night you mentioned a lamp. And I’ve heard references to the captain’s birthday. What do an innocuous lamp and a date that should be celebrated have to do with your rift?”
    â€œPlenty. His birthday is—”
    The hatch suddenly blew open; the rotund first mate barreled into the salon and hooked Phoebe’s attention. A fluttering in her bosom made her fret that she might be having an attack of the heart.
    â€œCap’n, where are ye?” the silver-haired Throck boomed, his grog-blossom nose aglow. “Ye’re needed below!”
    â€œThat’s exactly where he’s headed,” Phoebe collected herself to say.
    Throck straightened, his eyes widening. “Why,