Page 103 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
“Do they actually exist?”
Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “Is this for your exceedingly anal spreadsheet? Why are you asking?”
“Absolutely zero reason except curiosity, I promise.” Reno’s face rose in her mind, and just as quickly, she blanked it out.
“Love spells exist, yes. But they’re not for Hollands. Trust me.”
Did she want to dig deeper? Absolutely. But she wouldn’t, not yet. Hopefully, she’d earn the right to hear about that at some point. “So we can push and pull a little for fun, though.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Fritz glanced at the band that was playing old-time and honky-tonk tunes from the makeshift stage under an enormous oak tree. The group had just swung into a slow waltz, and while Beatrice couldn’t hear Fritz’s words, their body language made it clear they were inviting Winnie to dance.
Please say yes.Wishing wasn’t magic, was it? Beatrice couldn’t stand the idea of watching Fritz’s face fall.
Winnie nodded, and they joined the other dozen couples already out on the grass. Some did the correct steps, one-two-three, four-five-six. Other couples merely swayed. Fritz and Winnie did some kind of hybrid move, and the look of hope on Fritz’s face was enough to make Beatrice sigh. “That’s adorable.”
“Oh, shit.” Cordelia clutched her arm. “Look.”
Dad had Astrid by the hand, and with a practiced twirl, they entered the group of dancers. And they looked like they knew what they were doing. Not even the fact that Astrid was wearing a full-ass black cape seemed to get in their way.
Holy crap. When Beatrice and her father had arrived, Astrid had been out of the house, making a run for more ice. Then she’d lost track of him entirely in the swirl of partygoers and hadn’t seen Astrid at all until right now. “Did you talk to him at all yet?”
“No,” said Cordelia. “I keep dodging him every time he gets close. But I suppose I should talk to him at some point. I want to.”
Funny. She didn’t know Cordelia at all, but she knew when she was lying. “You don’t have to. You owe him absolutely nothing.”
“He’s our father.”
“I love Mitchell. I worry about his high blood pressure and his diabetes. I worry whether he’s going to the doctor often enough and if he remembers to take his pills. I’m weirdly glad he’s here, even though I’m furious with him. But he’s a stranger who let you go, and who hid you from me for our whole lives. If you feel about him the way I do about Astrid, you’re allowed to go as slow as you like. Even if that includes never getting to know him at all.”
“But… I feel like I should at least say hello.”
“You make every rule. Every single last one.”
Cordelia pressed her hand. “Thank you.”
Together, they watched the dancers. The tempo slowed as the band shifted into something more romantic. Some couples broke apart, laughing and thanking each other.
Fritz and Winnie kept dancing.
“You sure that was a Push-Me-Pull-You and not a love thingy?”
“I’m sure. Those only last a second or two. If there’s a stirring in their loins, we didn’t do it.” Cordelia’s gaze was glued on Mitchell and Astrid. “Look at them. I’ve never seen Mom dance when it didn’t involve a moon ritual. She doesn’t dance. Not like that.”
Naya had loved to dance, but Mitchell had always claimed two left feet. At weddings and parties, Beatrice was always Naya’s dance partner. “Well, Daddoesn’tdance. Ever.”
But together, their mother and father moved like a thawing river finding its course. If she hadn’t known them, Beatrice would have been charmed by the sight of the two tall, white-haired people gliding through the crowd of other dancers, moving as if they’d danced together for decades, as if they’d never been parted. “That cape she’s wearing is a whole mood. Drama.” Something struck her. “Shit. Did we parent-trap them by accident?”
“Ew,” said Cordelia.
“Triple ew. I’m not okay with this.” Astrid might kill him. If not with a spell, then with her terrible attitude.
“Me, neither. I know he’s your dad and you love him, but he’s a liar.”
Beatrice tilted her head. “Yeah, well, your dad’s a liar, too, you know.”
Cordelia sent her a crooked grin.
