Holly sat just behind the boys, wrapped in a scarf patterned with prancing reindeer that she'd probably knitted herself. Her silver hair was piled high, secured with what looked like actual holly sprigs, and she smiled toward the stage with the knowingexpression of someone who'd seen how this story ended and approved of every chapter.
My gaze drifted three seats to the left. Fourth row, aisle seat. The cushion was empty, but it wasn't unoccupied—not really.
The shimmer was faint. Easy to miss if you weren't looking. I felt it more than saw it. A brush against my shoulder, gentle as a hand reaching out in passing.
"Hey, Grandma," I murmured, quiet enough that no one would hear over the orchestra's tuning. "Full house tonight. You'd have notes, I'm sure."
The house lights flickered their two-minute warning.
Marcus grabbed Ryan's arm, pointing toward the curtain. Holly pressed her hands together beneath her chin like a woman preparing to pray or applaud, not yet certain which would be required.
I stepped back from the curtain and let the velvet fall closed. The corridor curved toward the workshop—that addition Ben had carved out of a storage room nobody remembered existed until he'd knocked down a wall and found good bones underneath.
Ben was bent over something near the back wall, his shoulders curved. He'd rolled his sleeves past his elbows—he always did when he worked, no matter how many times I pointed out the December chill—and the muscles in his forearms shifted as he ran a cloth along a curve of wood.
A cradle.
Cherry wood gleamed under his hands, the grain rippling like water frozen mid-flow. The rockers curved in smooth arcs. Every surface looked soft enough to rest a cheek against.
"Jack and Noel?" I asked.
Ben looked up, and his face did that thing it always did when he saw me—a slight easing around the eyes, a settling in his jaw, as though some low-level tension he hadn't noticed had finallyreleased. "The adoption finalizes January fifteenth. I wanted it ready."
I crossed to him, my footsteps muffled by the sawdust scattered across the floorboards. Up close, I saw the marks carved into every surface.
New beginnings.
I touched one carved swirl with the pad of my finger. The hum answered immediately, vibrating up through my hand and settling somewhere behind my ribs. Familiar now. Welcome.
"She's going to sleep surrounded by enough magic to ward off an army," I said.
"That's the idea." Ben set down his cloth and straightened, rolling his neck until something popped. "Noel's been anxious. He tries to hide it, but—" He shrugged. "I wanted to give them something that would help."
"It's beautiful."
Ben reached out and ran his thumb along my jaw. I leaned into his hand.
"Nervous?" he asked.
I breathed in. My ribs expanded easily, no resistance, no white-knuckle effort required. My heartbeat stayed steady. My hands, hanging loose at my sides, didn't tremble.
"No," I said. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
Ben cupped my face with both hands, sawdust still caught in the creases of his palms, and he kissed me. Slow. Unhurried.
"Go be brilliant," he whispered. "I'll be in the wings."
"You're always in the wings."
"Somebody has to make sure the flats don't fall over." His thumb traced my cheekbone once more before he let go. "And somebody has to watch you shine."
I kissed him again—quick this time—and stepped back toward the door.
The orchestra had moved past tuning into the overture's opening measures, the melody climbing through the walls like ivy reaching for sun.
"Places, everyone! Places!"
I found Charlie in the lineup, his brass buttons gleaming under the work lights. He was standing straighter than he needed to, chin lifted, shoulders back.
