Page 39 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
“Extra-hot cappuccino?”
“Good memory.”
“It’s on the house. I figure it’s the least I can do after you almost died sitting outside my coffeehouse. Want a churro?”
Thatwas the cinnamon smell in the air. “I’m okay for now.”
“You sure? They’re your niece’s favorite.”
Beatrice filed away that potentially useful fact. “Truly, I’m good.”
Fritz looked carefully at her. “Really? No aftereffects?”
“Fine.” She vaguely remembered them standing in the small crowd that had formed around her. She remembered the feeling of being pushed before the blade sliced through the air. “Did you… um, did you notice anyone around me? Right before it happened?”
Fritz yanked the levers of the shiny espresso machine. “Nope. Just glad you’re okay. Having to clean up all that blood would have been bad for business.”
“Jesus, Fritz!” The woman sitting at the table nearest them looked horrified. “She’s not going to know you’re joking.”
The woman looked familiar, but it took Beatrice a second to place her. “You’re the bookseller, right?”
Dark brown twists framed the woman’s face, and multiple silver chains hung from her neck. “Sorry I tried to force the book Cordelia ordered on you the other day. You had me pretty confused, too.”
Fritz offered, “Keelia is a good person to know. She knows, like, everything and everyone.”
“Oh, stop.” Keelia flapped a hand.
“Seriously. There are people in town who trust her more than the internet.”
Keelia raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘people,’ you mean you?”
“Can you blame me? It’s easier to call you when I need to know something than to type it into Google. Faster, honestly, because I don’t have to sort through the ad results. Plus, you’re nice.”
“And that is why I let so many of my calls go to voice mail.” But she winked at Fritz and said, “I’m Winnie’s sister. The person you met on the boat?”
“Oh!” While there was no chance of Beatrice forgetting who Winnie was, she wouldn’t have guessed on the first try that Keelia, with her dark skin and brown eyes, would be the sister of the pale psychic who had white-blond curls and an ice-blue gaze. Half siblings? Adopted? Oh, right. None of her business. “Sure. Yeah.”
“Winnie’s an amazing person, with a real talent I can’t explain, nor do I want to try. It doesnotrun in our family, thank god.” Her gaze sharpened.
Beatrice fumbled with the cup Fritz handed her, tightening the lid. Did Keelia know what Winnie had told Beatrice? “It’s a talent I’m not that familiar with, I guess.”
Keelia’s voice was mild. “She’s setting up a side hustle in the annex of my shop, offering tarot readings and that sort of thing.”
Fritz sounded surprised. “Wait, Winnie’s staying?”
A nod. “She’s decided to start her whole life over.”
Was it in the water here?
“Why hasn’t she come in for coffee yet? Did she mention me?” Fritz bent to glance at their reflection again in the side of the espresso machine.
Keelia barely glanced at them. “Anyway, Beatrice, I know she’d love to see you again.”
“Did she tell you… um…”
“She doesn’t read and tell. But—” Keelia paused. “I know she was pretty shaken up, whatever it was.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Enough of that—shedidn’t want to go there right now. “So. I’m dying to shop at your store. Books are my love language.”
