“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Frances said. “Let’s see, then …” She shuffled on her armchair and raised her hand, almost as in blessing. “I forgive you?”
Shanna wasn’t sure what would happen, but nothing did.
“Maybe a bit more conviction,” Frances said to herself. “Shanna O’Connell, I forgive you for the actions of your ancestor, Caitriona. May her faults, and my family’s faults, no longer pursue you.”
“Wow. You’re good at this.”
“Did it work?”
Shanna wiggled her toes and stretched her fingers. “I don’t know. I don’t feel any different.”
“Should you?”
“I think so. I always feel something when there’s witchcraft afoot. Whether it’s casting a spell myself or being the target of one.”
“Maybe it needs time to kick in,” Frances said. “You can stay for a bit, see if it does. Otherwise, I’ll repeat it. Here, have some cookies. We can watch TV together.”
“Thank you.” Shanna bit into a cookie, even as her belly protested, the nerves starting to rack up again.
“Ah, perfect. It’s started,” Frances said, eyes glued to the screen. On it was a stage with a single spotlight, the outline of the crowd visible in front of it.
Some kind of stand-up comedy routine, perhaps? “What is it?” Shanna asked.
“My boy is about to have a presentation,” Frances said.
“Your boy?”
Frances nodded, munching on her cookie. “My little son. Well, he hasn’t been little for a while now. And he hates me when I call him that.” She pursed her wrinkle-etched lips. “So I stopped calling him much at all. But I still follow. He might not care, but I always will.”
Shanna’s eyes watered. “That’s so sweet.” And then it hit her. “Wait. Your son!”
“Hmm?”
“The Witch’s Heart. That’s why you forgiving me didn’t work! When the witch has a child, they become the heart. It’s him!” She turned to Frances, taking her free hand. “Your son is the one who needs to forgive me!”
“Ah, well, then we’ll do that.” Frances patted her hand. “But once he’s done with his very important presentation. Here he comes!”
Shanna turned to the screen along with Frances. A man in a fancy business suit walked onto the stage. Definitely not stand-up comedy—it had to be a different kind of presentation, maybe of some company or a product.
The camera zoomed in on his face. The light reflected off his bald head; shaved, Shanna assumed, to disguise oncoming hair loss. Dark, penetrating, clever eyes, and a well-maintained beard with a few strips of silver in it. She’d seen that man before.
Everett.
Chapter 26
“Dad! I figured out the Excel glitch. The spreadsheets are working fine now.” Simon rose from the desk when his dad entered the office. He wasn’t alone, though. A man dressed in a business suit similar to Dad’s, with short dark hair and a nice beard, followed.
“And this is my son, Simon,” Dad gestured at him. “Quite the genius, if you can’t tell.”
“Dad,” Simon drawled, feeling himself blush. It was a simple glitch to resolve.
“Simon. Pleased to meet you.” The man offered him a hand. “Dean Everett. I’m your dad’s old friend from college. Just came back to the country.”
Simon vigorously shook his hand. He liked how Everett treated him—like he was greeting an adult, equal in standing, not a child, even though Simon was only thirteen.
“Now, we have some things to discuss,” Dad said to Simon, with the tone indicating he should go and do more age-appropriate things.
“Let him stay if he wants to,” Everett said, his dark eyes glinting at Simon. “Maybe one day he’ll be a businessman.”
