Belle looked like she wanted to say something that wasn't really polite, so she didn't say anything at all. “That's enough,” she said, before I even had a chance to transform the pen. “I'm not satisfied with your progress. I believe we’ll assign you a new tutor.”
“Given that she is part of my family,” Wren said politely, her politics voice coming out, “I do believe you have to receive the recommendation of our family head in order to make such an executive decision.”
“She's a young witch,” Belle said irritably. “They're my jurisdiction.”
“Not young witches who are new to the family altogether,” Wren said pleasantly. I had a feeling there was a game going on, and it was one Wren was winning.
“The next time I evaluate her, you must stick to the more conventional methods,” Belle said, standing up. “If I hear of anything untoward, I’ll assign her a new tutor, with your family’s permission or no.” For a few seconds she seemed a lot more like a petulant teenager than she did a council leader. Then she swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Curious to see if my idea would work, I reached out and pressed my finger on the top left corner of the design. I wasn't sure why I picked that corner, but for some reason it called to me. In a small flash of light, the pen reformed, lying on the table looking like it was brand new.
I grinned to myself, Belle's bad mood forgotten.
“This will be a problem,” Wren muttered as if she was talking to herself.
“Can you –”
“Not yet,” Wren said, shaking her head. She was looking at the table now, drumming her fingers restlessly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, did the same to her other ear. “I need to confirm some stuff with my mom.”
I nodded, but I didn't push it. Besides, I had enough going on that I could wait on some more info. I wasn’t even sure what it was relevant to. “So,” I said, the word trailing off. “What do I do?”
Wren looked surprised, but then she laughed. “You keep practicing what I taught you,” she said fiercely. “It's what will work for you. We’re not going to give that up.”
I nodded. I didn't 100% sure know what she meant by that, but I liked the way she taught me, and I wasn't going to turn it down just because Belle had said I should. I was curious, though. “Does Belle just not like me?” I asked.
“She doesn't like anybody in our family,” Wren said, something complicated in her face. Then she turned conspiratorial, although I had a feeling it wasn’t the truth. “She’s mad Ethan wouldn’t date her because he’s gay, so she hates all of us.”
“He is cute.” I smiled, although it was a bit weak. It wasn’t the reason, I could tell, but I let Wren get away with it. Later, though, I would find out the truth.
I sat on the couch at Lettie’s main house, my feet drumming against the floor. Wren was still talking with Ella, so I’d just been sitting around. After reading for a while on my phone, I had gotten bored and switched to TV.
“How are you?” Lizbeth asked, catching me off guard. I yelped and almost fell off the couch. Lizbeth laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forget you can’t sense us yet.”
“Sense?” There was a question mark where my brain was. Lizbeth just smiled and sat next to me, although she left some space between us so I didn’t feel crowded. “It's not what I expected,” I finally admitted.
Her smile was fond. “We get a few of you,” she said. “That's usually the response we get.” She leaned forward, her eyes serious now. “Are you thinking of making a home here?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
“You don't have to answer,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I was just curious.”
Maybe I was getting paranoid, but I wasn't quite sure I was believing the whole curiosity excuse anymore. “I have a question about the coffee shop.”
Lizbeth looked at me expectantly.
“If I don't take it,” I said, “what happens to it?”
“It would probably revert to Mildred’s main family line,” Lizbeth said, her face darkening. “I’m not entirely certain they would keep it as it was, or even do anything with it.”
“She’s got an important family or something?” I remembered that coming up before, but I didn’t know any more about it.
“Mildred and Millie are both from a long, distinguished line, local to Elder.” Her lips were tight. “They have a reputation, but you don't need to worry about that.”
“What did you know about Millie?” I asked, curious.
“Investigating again?” Lizbeth looked at me with a warm smile. “I don't know much,” she said. “Just what I've heard.”
“Anything would be more than I know right now,” I said truthfully. I wasn't bitter, but I did wish I had more information to work from. “You mentioned they’re part of a distinguished family?” I asked. “Could that have something to do with the drugs? Were they rebelling?”
Lizbeth laughed, as if the notion was hilarious. “No, nothing of the sort.” She frowned. “Her family was involved in various, ongoing lines of work.”
“Was she in the mob or something?” I knew it was ridiculous, but this whole setup was ridiculous.
“No, nothing like that,” she said hastily. “The most important people for you to talk to would be the employees.” Lizbeth looked thoughtful. “I believe Wren pointed you in their direction?”
“She did,” I admitted. “I just haven't had a chance to check in with them since Millie died.”
Lizbeth’s smile was fond. “I recommend you make that your first stop,” she said. “You may find something that surprises you.”
I always hated when people got cryptic like that, because it meant they knew something, but they weren’t going to tell me about it. It kind of fell under that whole thing that I’d gotten as a kid. You needed to know it, but you would remember the lesson better if you figured it out on your own. Wasn’t worth driving myself in circles for hours, if you asked me.
“Okay,” I said. I stood up, brushing metaphorical dust off my pants. “Any idea where I can find Valencia?” Maybe something had changed since we had talked last.
“Probably at the hospital,” Wren said, catching me off guard. She must have come back from her conversation without me noticing.
“The hospital?” I asked and I winced. “Is Mix not doing well?”
“He’s not.” Wren sighed. “But Valencia’s ready to talk to you. I texted her.”
“Are you coming with?” I asked, already grabbing my purse and heading towards the door.
Wren looked at Lizbeth, who shook her head. “I've got some stuff to take care of here,” she said with a warm smile. “Let me know what you find out.”
“It's just as annoying when you guys do this as it is in the movies,” I said, pointing my finger at them.
“Do what?” Lizbeth asked, and I didn't believe the innocence in her eyes one bit.
“You know exactly what you're doing.” I waved my finger. “This innocent act doesn't suit you. You know something and you’re not telling me. It’s annoying.”
Wren held a finger to her lips and winked. “Go investigate,” she said. “Go see what you can find out, go solve your mystery.”
“I will,” I said, like it was as simple as that. I wished. “Let me know if you need anything,” I said, nodding to Wren.
She smiled at me and turned back to Lizbeth. I had one hand on the door when I realized I was missing an important piece of information.
Lizbeth and Wren were looking at me expectantly now.
“Which hospital am I going to?” I asked sheepishly.
Wren chuckled. “I'll text you the address,” she said, a smile on her face. “And the room number. She knows you're coming.”
I still wasn't exactly thrilled, because the last thing I wanted was to interrupt somebody when they were already having a rough time. Especially since all I wanted to talk about was the murder of their former boss. But Kerrity was so certain she’d
find me guilty, I didn't really have much of a choice if I wanted to survive in town much longer. Not that I was definitely going to stay, I told myself firmly. I still hadn't decided.
Though the more I said that to myself, the more I realized I was lying. Even Sarai and Miles had started to grow on me, and the insanity that I would be leaving behind if I left. But thinking about that was for a different time.
“Thanks,” I said instead.
When I made it to the front door, I found Mocha by my heels, walking sedately next to me. “They probably won't let you in the hospital,” I said, looking down at her.
“You say that like they can see me,” Mocha said. She gave me a look, and I had to admit, she had me there. I was treating her like she was just a regular dog, and more and more I was realizing that that was not really a thing.
“What do you think?” I asked, aware that I was asking a dog's opinion and really feeling slightly crazy for it.
“You're on the right track,” she said. “And that's all you'll get out of me about it,” she added primly. “I like to make my humans solve their own problems.”
I didn't give her a look, but I seriously considered rolling my eyes.
“Aren't you supposed to help?” I asked. “Being my familiar, and all?”
If Mocha was a human, she would've waved her hand. “There's no such rule for us.” Instead she just gave me a sassy look.
Of course there wasn't.
I shook my head, but I was smiling inside.
“So you’re going to sneak in the hospital with me?” I asked.
“Beat you there,” she said, and she took off at a trot. My phone beeped with an address. Distracted, I started running to keep up. But Mocha still beat me to the car.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I stood outside the door, listening to the faint sounds of the monitors. I hadn't realized that Mix was in the ICU, or that they would accept non-family visitors. Mocha, however, was completely invisible, as she’d said she would be. I wished she’d teach me that trick. It would be very nice sometimes.
No one had even given her a second glance.
I touched the side of the door, and although I hadn’t made any noise, Valencia seemed to notice I was there.
She rubbed her eyes, obviously fatigued, then stood and came to see me. “How's he doing?” I asked, my voice hushed. We were in a private room, although I could see his nurse perched just outside the window. No one could hear us, but still, there was a quiet that seemed to reign over the ICU at all times.
“Not sure,” she said. “It's going to be touch and go for a while again.” There was a sadness in her eyes, hatred, regret. Whatever was behind his illness, it seemed a lot more complicated than I had assumed. I wasn't sure what to say. “I thought we were past this,” she said, fighting to keep the words steady.
That – that I could sympathize with. “I lost my mom to cancer,” I said, my voice quiet. “Every time I thought it was over, it wasn't.”
She looked at me, surprised, and nodded again. “So,” she said, heading back in the room and sitting in the chair next to Mix. He was sleeping, the quiet beep of the monitor the loudest thing in the room. The ventilator hissed every so often, helping him breathe. “You had some questions?”
I hesitated, my gaze on Mix.
“I could use the distraction,” she added.
I wasn't entirely convinced, but she was an adult and she could make her own decisions. “Did you work with Millie much?”
Valencia's eyes flickered to Mix, then back to me. “She didn't come by often,” she said. “When she did, they'd almost always end up in a fight.”
“A fight?” I asked, curious. I hadn’t heard that before.
“Millie was bossy,” Valencia said. “They rearranged the kitchen, moved all the supplies. It was a pain in the butt, when we were the ones in charge of stuff.” She rolled her eyes. “I always assumed it was the old lady version of a property dispute.” Her smile was weak, but she smiled as if to invite me in on the joke.
“Were you ever around when they were doing that?” I asked.
“I was smart enough to get out of there,” she said frankly. “They could be nasty when they wanted to.”
“What do you know about Mildred’s background?” I asked. I didn't have much information on that, so even a little bit would've helped. “Or Millie’s, for that matter.”
“She didn't really like kids,” Valencia said thoughtfully. “At least not in the shop.” She reached out and put her hand on Mix’s, stroking it gently. She seemed lost in thought for a long moment. “I think Millie was the older sibling by a few minutes, and that may have been a grudge she held for a long time.”
“Did you ever hear anything about drugs in there before?” I wasn’t sure how far the information had gotten, but since Valencia had worked there, I was certain she had heard about it.
She frowned. “I can’t say I have,” she said. “But they didn’t really put anything in the cupboards we ever used, so I can’t say that I looked in them often.”
Mix shifted in bed, drawing Valencia’s attention. “You should probably leave,” she said.
There was a beeping noise, then another. I heard the nurse come in. I backed up towards the door, grateful for what she had said. “Thanks,” I said, and I meant it.
Valencia frowned. “I'm sorry I can't help you more,” she said.
“Every little bit helps.” Even though she hadn’t told me a ton, what she had said I thought I could use. “Let me know if there's anything I can do.”
She nodded once, although her attention was obviously on Mix. The rest of the world had faded from view. I was sure she had heard me, but I doubted she would take me up on it. I was an unknown, and in times of stress like that, you stuck with the people you knew.
It wasn't anything to be offended about.
“It is what it is,” I said, although whether I was trying to buoy myself up, or something, I wasn't really sure.
“She didn't like kids,” I muttered to myself. “Not surprised, if she's as grumpy as they say she is.”
I made it to the receptionist’s desk before I heard the delighted screech. My head jerked up. “Thank you,” Sarai said, bouncing closer.
I looked at her, and then looked around. Not entirely unsurprisingly, Miles wasn't far behind.
“Can I help you?” I asked, baffled.
Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as I saw it. “No,” he said.
Based on that, I had a good idea why he was there, and what he was doing. I wasn’t sure if his wife had died in that hospital or not, but he seemed to be carrying some flowers, like the ones I had seen on Mix’s bedside table.
“We bring flowers for the patients,” Sarai said cheerfully, nodding to the ones Miles carried.
He didn’t look thrilled to be outed. “We were just in the neighborhood.”
Uh huh. Ignoring me, Miles walked past to talk to the receptionist, handing her the rest of the flowers.
That was when it clicked together. “You saw me and came here to check on me,” I said, loud enough that Miles could hear.
Sarai reached up and took my arm, tucking her hand into the crook of my arm. “Yep,” she said. I stared at her, and she just smiled back at me, her smile wide.
“You are such a strange child,” I said, marveling. But Sarai didn't seem to take offense.
“Yep,” she said, popping the P sound. “I'm told I take after my mom.”
“Tell me about your mom?” I asked, letting Sarai lead the way to the elevator. Miles caught up, just in time to hear, and I saw the surprise flash over his face. I didn’t say anything.
“She was a really nice lady,” Sarai said. Her voice was full. “I miss her a lot.” In the lull, we got in the elevator, riding it quietly.
I reached out and squeezed her hand gently. “I miss my mom too,” I said. I glanced at Miles, mostly for directions. He nodded his head to the right, so we went that way.
&
nbsp; “Where's your mom?” Sarai asked, curiosity there.
“She died,” I said, hating how it always made me tear up. I missed her so much, and sometimes it felt like it would never go away. “Little over six months ago.”
“Was she murdered?”
“Sarai,” Miles said, exasperated.
Apparently, that was enough to get him to speak. “Oh no,” I said with a faint smile. Once I thought about it, that was more than natural for the daughter of a homicide detective to ask. “She got really sick, and so she stayed in the hospital a lot, and then one time she didn’t come home.”
Sarai nodded, far too solemn for a ten-year-old.
“My mom was like that too,” she said. “She went to the hospital, and then just one day never came back.” She shrugged. “Dad says it's not because she didn't want us,” she said, “but because she couldn't.” She gave me a scrutinizing look, as if she was doubting Miles’s ability to tell the truth. “Was he right?” she asked suspiciously.
I wasn't sure whether to be horrified or pleased that she'd asked me that sort of question. “I don't know,” I said truthfully. “Your dad was there, and I wasn't.”
She frowned at me for a few seconds longer, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with what I’d come up with. I was just grateful she had stopped asking questions. They were so not questions I was qualified to answer.
“Is that what brought you here?” This time it was Miles who spoke, much to my surprise.
I glanced at him. “What?” I hadn’t really noticed him come back.
“You said your mother died,” he said. He was watching me out of the corner of his light blue eyes, something curious there. For all that he seemed so standoffish, I could feel something warm in him, even if he could be a jerk.
“Yeah,” I said. “She left me an apartment here.”
“The apartment –” Miles paused, looking down at his daughter.
“That the lady died in front of,” Sarai filled in. “As if you can keep me out of that stuff, Dad.”
I hid a smile. He really did have his hands full with her.
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