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Summary
Since Maria, every Owens woman has had red or brown hair.
Written for Yuletide 2013.
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"Well, maybe, but you should have seen Gillian as a teenager," Frannie confided, joining him at the table where he'd been sorting through the not-for-eating china bowls for some they could use in the spell, and put down the armful of fat white candles they'd been struggling to find earlier. "Couldn't keep her in with a binding spell, that one. Always running off to some concert or another. Do you know she used to dye her hair all the time?"
He hadn't, but it was easy to picture. He stacked four of the smaller bowls and started putting the others back in the cupboards. "What colour?"
"All of them." Frannie dusted off one of the small bowls. "Purple, blue, wild green. White, once. Never stuck, though."
"Oh?"
"There is a fifth bowl like this – over there, behind the jasmine. And no, not for more than a few days. No matter what she did, it always faded back to red." She caught his gaze and winked. "Roots win out."
There was meaning in that, Gary was sure – she had that look – but he didn't know what. He still wasn't all that great at figuring out this magic stuff.
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