Page 119 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
So Beatrice went home. With nothing more she could do, she got in bed and pulled the covers over her head. Her dreams made the scant hour or two she slept hardly worth it: pitch-black cemeteries, bony fingers writhing up from damp earth to claw her down into the mud, the padding of feet, the quick-moving shapes of girls running fast to a bloody, fiery doom. When she woke up in the morning, she couldn’t have felt worse if she hadn’t gone to bed at all.
A text waited from her father:At the cafe.
Nothing else, nothing about Minna.
She called Cordelia, but it went straight to voice mail, so either her phone was off or she’d blocked her. Probably the latter.
Quickly, she dressed, and then hurried down the dock and toward the café.
Minna’s fine. Of course she’s fine.She’d probably turned up an hour later. Maybe she’d tried sneaking into her bed, only to be caught by Cordelia. They’d probably had a good heart-to-heart before Minna fell asleep, wrung out from emotional exhaustion. Cordelia would still hate Beatrice, but nothing mattered beyond Minna being safe.
Surely Minna was safe.
She had to be.
Mitchell sat in the back corner of the café, a newspaper and a becrumbed, empty plate in front of him. She waved and got in line.
When it was her turn, Fritz said, “Your order, please?”
Funny that this would be the thing that undid her. Struggling not to choke on her tears, she said, “Extra-hot cappuccino, please.” They nodded, shoving the credit card reader at her, before moving toward the espresso machine, their face blank.
Keelia and Olive sat in the other corner. She hadn’t noticed them when she came in, but their heads leaned together as they glanced in her direction and whispered.
She could do this. Using the last tiny dreg of courage she had, she walked to their table.
“Have they found her?”
Keelia pressed her lips together, as if trying to decide whether to speak. Then she shook her head.
Olive, bless her, took pity on her, though. “No, but everyone’s searching. They set up a headquarters at her house. We’re going to bring them a box of coffee and all of Fritz’s donuts.”
Everyone.She wanted—needed—to be part of that. “How are they doing it? Are the police involved? They’ll need a lot of people, right? I couldn’t fall asleep, obviously, so I did quite a bit of reading about grid searches, and if they make sure to lay it out from the cemetery in the direction of—”
Keelia rose. “Fritz, that box ready?”
Fritz pushed the coffee box across the counter, along with a carry bag and three donut boxes. “All the milks, soy, almond, and regular, plus sweeteners. Cups and lids are in there.”
Beatrice almost dropped her phone as she tried to wrestle her credit card out of the attached wallet. “Let me get this. Please. It’s the least I can do.”
Keelia raised an eyebrow. “It’s the least, all right.”
Fritz just shook their head as they slid her cappuccino halfway across the counter, as if they couldn’t stand to get any closer to her. “As if I’d charge them for this. You really aren’t from around here.”
And you never will be.
Straightening her spine, she turned away and moved toward her father, who, of course, had witnessed the whole thing. Great. She was going to have to explain it to him, and she wasn’t sure she was going to find the right words. But she needed to try.
“Dad. I’m not sure how long you stayed at the party after I slipped away—” Beatrice could almost smell the roses, could almost see the unearthly moonlit glow of them blooming around her and Reno. The most perfect moment of her entire life, followed by the most devastating one.
He raised a hand. “I’m all caught up, don’t worry. How you doing? You must feel pretty shitty.”
“How?Howare you caught up?”
“Astrid.”
“Have they heard anything from Minna?”
“Not yet.”
