Page 20 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
Beatrice nodded. “Should I text her again?”
Reno raised an eyebrow. “We’ll go to her.”
“Go outside? Now?”
Firmly, Reno said, “Now.”
Fair enough. “I’ll get my bag.”
CHAPTER TEN
Death, taxes, andholy shit,was that a ghost?We can be certain of these three things in life.
—Evie Oxby,365 Page-a-Day Calendar with the Palmist of Palm Springs
Beatrice followed Reno through the lobby, keeping her eyes on the back of her neck, where the dark hair had been shaved to a vee at the nape, where the blue lines of her tattoos slipped downward under the collar of her red plaid flannel.
The sun was up and shining, but unlike Los Angeles sun, which poured down and into every crevice, here the sun was muted. Subtle, as if it might slip behind a cloud at any moment, even though the pale blue sky held no clouds.
They left the main street, walking a block away from the water, then two. The houses were mostly Victorians, old and multistoried and grand. Scattered between them were a few more modern eyesores, and their steel-and-glass look clashed with the aged, graceful wood of the older homes. Enormous trees arched over the streets, allowing the shy sunlight to dapple through.
Reno’s pace was quick, and Beatrice’s heart rate matched it. She was going to Minna. She was going to her niece. Would Cordelia be there, too? God forbid, would she have to see Astrid?
Reno slowed, opening a white wooden gate.
Beatrice looked up. “Oh. Wow.”
Set on a low rise, the enormous white house reminded her of the aunts’ house inPractical Magic, with a wide, wraparound porch, peaked windows, and an actual turret. The paint may have been yellow at one point, but it had faded to a creamy shade of butter. “This isn’t where Cordelia lives, is it?”
Reno only jerked her head. Was that a yes? A no? She led Beatrice down a path through an overgrown flower garden, stuffed to bursting with dahlias and coreopsis and zinnias and begonias and roses. Bees danced among the blooms, and robins hopped along the crushed shell pathway.
The tips of Beatrice’s fingers tingled. “Is Cordelia here now?”
“Not sure. If she is, she’s sleeping off last night.”
That’s right, the birth Cordelia had assisted with. “What about Astrid?”
“She’s at the shop.”
Whew.
Instead of heading up the porch steps, Reno wound around the house and through another gate, this one made of black iron. She led them into a gigantic backyard that held an overflowing vegetable garden, two long wooden tables, dozens of cheerfully painted mismatched chairs, three heavy umbrellas, and a fire pit. It looked as if a party was about to descend, and everything about it was welcoming. A small white motor home sat on the fence line.
Past the fence was a graveyard.
An old one, by the look of the overgrown weeds and the leaning stones. Dozens of them, placed haphazardly on the hill under the huge, dark trees. Despite the fence separating the yardfrom the grassy, tomb-filled area, it somehow all felt connected. Peaceful. Beautiful even.
Reno was still moving. At the bottom of the backyard, just on the edge of the graveyard, stood an outbuilding painted to match the bigger house, and just as faded. It had its own tiny gated garden, which bloomed just as riotously as the front one. This last gate Reno pushed through was under a jasmine arbor so heavy with blooms, the air itself felt sweet and thick. The shed-like building had a small porch with enough room for two small rocking chairs.
The door of the shed stood wide open, and inside, Minna was sunk into a battered orange couch, her eyes on her phone.
“Hey, kiddo.” Reno’s voice was gruff.
Minna scrambled up. “Oh!” Light scudded across her face and then her expression fell, along with her gaze.
Feeling a tug she refused to ignore, Beatrice beelined past Reno toward the girl. “I owe you a huge apology. I’m honestly not the biggest hugger in the world, but I’d like to hug you. Would that be okay?”
Minna hurled herself at her.
