Page 31 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
“You do remember the mirror.”
“That wasn’t real.”
Cordelia just raised an eyebrow.
Beatrice reached out to lean on the counter. “Holy… shit.”
“Yeah.”
“It was round, and kind of worn, like the glass itself was rusted somehow. And you—”
Cordelia nodded. “I was there. You were, too, on the other side.”
“No.” The girl Beatrice had babbled to in the mirror hadn’t been real. It had been a reflection. A small face, just like hers.
But the lips had moved with words Beatrice herself hadn’t said, and if she leaned as close as she could, she could hear the girl speak.Can I see Mrs. Lumpy?Beatrice would hold up her old stuffed elephant and the girl in the mirror would laugh, thenshewould laugh, and it didn’t matter that they never said much of anything. It was enough to be able to see her. “No.”
Cordelia’s gaze was soft. “The elephant. Do you still have it?”
“This isn’t possible.”
“Miss Lumps. Ms. Plumpy?”
Something crashed inside her lungs. “Mrs. Lumpy.”
“That’s it.” Cordelia’s face fell. “What happened? Where did you go?”
“Daddy broke the mirror.”
Astrid’s voice came from the doorway. “That idiot. That isexactlywhy I took Cordelia and ran. Breaking my best scrying mirror. Never could take a spot of magic, that man.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It’s not hard to believe. Just shut off everything you’ve ever learned about logic. And by that I mean, hell, yes, if you struggle to believe, you’renormal. You’re human.
—Evie Oxby, guest appearance onQueer Eye
Beatrice gave a laugh that felt more like a wheeze. “There’s no such thing as magic.” Enchanted mirrors existed only in movies. The only magic wand she’d ever held was her vibrator.
Somehow, she was shepherded back to the dining table. Astrid poured her another glass of wine in a fresh glass. “Just in case. You never know around here.”
Cordelia slid a slice of apple pie in front of her. “Eliza down at the bakery is a genius. Should I get some candles for us to blow out?”
“No, no, that’s fine.”
Minna joggled up and down in her chair as her arms first punched the air and then wrapped around her waist. Her face glowed. “If Gran can mention magic, we can, too, right? Mom!”
“Be patient, honey. This is a lot for Aunt Beatrice.”
“Beatrix,” muttered Astrid.
Cordelia held back the plate of pie she’d been about to slide in front of Astrid. “Mom, you agreed you’d play fair.”
Astrid said, “Iamplaying fair. I’m just using her real name.”
“Playing fair?” The frustration burst out of Beatrice before she could think what she’d say next. But the words were all there, lined up and ready to go. “How is any of this fair? What did you mean, that you took Cordelia andran? Does that mean my father doesn’t know about any of this?” A wild hope rolled through her. Was it possible he was as clueless as she was? Had he, perhaps, been searching for his lost family for decades?
“Oh, he knows,” said Astrid darkly. “And he was glad.”
