Page 2 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
So here Beatrice was. On the ferry. Alone.
She didn’t even know she’d sighed deeply until the woman across from her looked up from her book and said, “You all right, hon?”
“Oh!” Beatrice straightened. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” The woman had tired eyes and a kind face. “Let me know if she’s bothering you at all.” The little girl’s heels were still thumping steadily against the seat as she turned the pages.
“Not at all. She’s sweet.”
The woman stuck her finger into her own book and leaned forward, and there it was—Beatrice could read it on her face. Small talk, incoming. She’d ask something innocuous about where Beatrice was from, what she was doing on the ferry, and Beatrice didnotwant to talk about herself.Deflect.“What are you reading there?”
The woman smiled and held up the book. “Evie Oxby’s newest book. Have you read her?”
Ofcourseit was Evie Oxby’s book.
As a Hollywood entertainment lawyer, Grant had his fair share of eccentric clients, but none was higher paid (or more frequently sued) than young Evie Oxby, the Palmist of Palm Springs, who claimed to see and hear the ghosts of strangers. Her latest book,Come at Me, Boo, was still on theNew York Timesbestseller list twenty-four weeks after its release, and her first one,I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghosts, had sold more than a million copies.
“I haven’t.” That was true, at least.
“She’s sogood. I tell you what, I don’t go in for that woo-woo stuff, but she knows what she’s talking about.”
“Mmmm.”
Evie Oxby had been at Grant’s fateful birthday party a few weeks back. That night, she’d looked incredibly young and very pale, as if the weight of the ghosts she claimed she could see in the room was stripping the life from her. It had been a good act, yes. People had flocked around her, hoping that one of herfeelingswould come through for them, but Evie had just kept quiet, her lips tight and white.
After Beatrice had discovered Dulcina using Grant’s bat to get to third base, she’d bolted straight through the party for the elevator. Her hand had shook as she’d hit the ground-floor button.
“Hi.”
Beatrice had jumped—she’d barely noticed that Evie Oxby was already in the elevator car.
“I’m sorry,” the young woman said to her. “You’ve just had a shock.”
Fuck, dideveryoneknow about Grant and Dulcina? Even his clients? Beatrice hadn’t answered.
The doors opened to no one on the eighteenth floor. She stabbed the button again.
“And I have to deliver another shock, I’m afraid,” said Evie.
Beatrice’s sigh felt like it came from the bottoms of her feet. “Do youreallyhave to?”
“You’re going to experience seven miracles.”
Did she look so terrible that Evie thought that might be a pick-me-up? “Huh. Thanks.” She knew her tone said,I don’t care, and normally, she’d feel bad about that. Not tonight.
But Evie didn’t take the hint. She continued, “And you will die. It will happen very quickly.”
Beatrice sucked in a sharp breath. “Amazing. Well, my night just keeps getting better. Thanks very much for that.”
“I’m sorry.” Evie’s gaze fell to the carpeted elevator floor.
After the doors had finally opened on the ground floor, Beatrice speed-walked to the parking garage without looking back or saying good-bye.
Evie Oxby was known for her directness and her humor, not for being mean, so it had been a weirdly cruel thing of her to say. But the threat of her “prediction” was empty. Beatrice didn’t believe in any psychic kind of magic. What shehadbelieved in, up until that night, was that she and Grant had a strong partnership based on mutual respect.
Now, the woman across from her on the ferry said, “I swear to you. Evie Oxby is always right.”
Sure she was.
