He grinned at her and placed his free hand on her knee. “You’re pretty stubborn, Wren Dunlop.”
“And you’re going to get pretty wet if you don’t can the ghost talk in front of Poppy,” Wren whipped back.
“Sweetheart, you could try, but if I go in, so do you.”
Dammit, there was no chance of shifting him. Oh, well, she’d just have to sit next to him, hold his hand, and watch the floating parade pass them by. Wren looked up as Hayes sat down next to Hadley.
“I just got a message, the parade has started from the beach up from the inn,” he said.
And as if Luna had ordered it, a band of mist rolled across the lake, skimming its surface. It would make the parade of witches and warlocks look a little spookier and otherworldly. The photos of the parade would be Instagram-worthy. Luna would be pleased. And really, wasn’t that all that mattered?
“Excellent,” Poppy said, and threaded her hand through Wren and Hadley’s arms, a pretty fairy queen holding court amongst her minions. “I intend to drink too much wine and cause mayhem. Are you in, Bird?”
Always and absolutely. It was, after all, what they did.
* * *
The following Tuesday, after the dancing lesson had concluded, Silas sat on the stairs inside Dane’s cottage with Lila and Ruby. The Reverend was absent, having departed upon what he had termed a spiritual retreat to some monastery in Upstate New York. Silas did not know when he intended to return.
Three, two, one…
The door opened.
Wren entered, her gaze fixed on the small glowing device she carried. Despite observing these things for some time now, Silas regarded what mortals called phones with suspicion. They used them to converse with each other—by voice or written word—as if by magic. He understood letters, handwritten and sealed with wax, and carried by horse. These contraptions … he did not.
A sheen of perspiration lay upon Wren’s throat and brow, evidence of her exertion during what they called “dance” practice. Dancing it was not. Dane, however, looked as fresh as he had earlier. Silas knew the reason. While the dancer and the children practiced, the doctor spent his time either watching her or looking at his infernal phone.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” Wren said.
Dane relieved Wren of her bag and water bottle with quiet efficiency, then tapped her phone. Wren’s eyes lifted to his.
“News?” he asked.
All three ghosts inclined forward as one.
“I’ve just received an offer,” she said slowly. “To choreograph a music video. In London.”
He brushed a damp lock of hair behind her ear. “Is that good news or bad?”
“Good … I guess. It’s for a very famous brand.”
She showed him the screen. His brows rose in clear approval.
“When would you need to go?”
Wren wrinkled her nose in a way that was, Silas supposed, fetching. “After Lammas. Three weeks or so. They are still working out schedules.”
Was this the turning point in their relationship? If the dancer left, perhaps Dane would return to his work.
“No!” Ruby cried.
“She cannot leave!” Lila said, clutching at Ruby, though her hands passed straight through her. “They haven’t even talked about how they are going to keep seeing each other!”
“Or if they will,” Ruby added mournfully.
“Is he the one who’s going to stay, or have we been barking up the wrong tree?” Naomi asked.
Silas ignored the women. It was better to end matters cleanly, because how could such an attachment endure when there was an ocean between them? They should end it now. Tonight.
