Granny Noggin went into the kitchen and climbed on a chair to open the door of a cabinet high above the stove, still well out of Jimmy’s reach, though barely—he was getting very tall.
She took down a polished rod of pale wood and a clean Mason jar, and took both into the living room. For a moment she looked fondly and a little sadly at the young man stretched out on her couch. She wouldn’t be able to keep him much longer; one of these days he was bound to notice he wasn’t nine years old any more, and once that happened he’d be no good to her.
She raised the wand and passed it over Jimmy’s head a few times, her lips moving silently, then put the point of the jar into the mason jar. Instantly, the bottom inch or so of the jar filled with jam, jam that glowed a clear pale yellow—the same co
