Page 12 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland

“Yeah, well. Me, too.” Minna examined a torn fingernail. “He fell off a ladder when I was little. I don’t even remember him. This place was his favorite place of all. He called it his hideout, and now it’s where I like to hide, too. Me and Reno.”

“So, are you—”

Minna interrupted her. “Can I tattoo you?”

Beatrice started. “Oh! I don’t know about that. Your mom…”

“She wouldn’t care if it was what you wanted.”

“I don’t have any tattoos, either. Just like her.” Just like my twin.

“How long are you going to be here? Can you stay awhile?” Minna’s gaze was made of hope.

“I wish I could.”

“Why can’t you?”

Reno leaned against the countertop with folded arms. Her eyes were so dark they were almost black.

“I live in LA.”

Minna said, “No one lives in LA. The best they do is survive.”

“What?”

She giggled. “I watch The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. You can’t tell me those women are okay.”

Beatrice snorted in appreciation. “Fair. But I do have a life there.”

“You’re mad at your husband, right?”

Lightly, she said, “It seems I might not have one of those for much longer.”

“Oooh. Sorry about that.” Minna paused. “But not that sorry. Wouldn’t that make it easier for you to stay?”

“I have a job.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a CPA and tax preparer.” She balanced books and gave tax advice for a living, working for her father’s small accounting firm, as she had since she’d graduated college.

Dad gave her a tiny raise every year—oh so proudly, with a grin and a hug—and Beatrice would rather jab an ice pick into her own shoulder than let her father know that he paid her less than the newest stock clerk got at Whole Foods (she’d heard them talking about it when she’d been buying fair-trade organic raspberries).

She made a sixteenth of what Grant did. So, when she was done with her work, Beatrice was the one in the house who made sure Grant didn’t run out of his favorite Timor coffee or the brand of hand soap he liked best. Once or twice a year, it annoyed her, and she told him she wasn’t a fifties housewife and he should get his ass to the grocery store and pick up her favorite milk, which, to his credit, he always did, with a laugh, delivering her a milk product that was almost what she’d asked for.

If he had to pay the power bill? The lights would go out first. They both knew it.

He was fabulous at his job. And at having fun.

She was better at doing literally everything else.

Minna fell backward into the couch. “Sounds boring .”

“I love it.” It might be boring but it was true. Beatrice adored the way the numbers fit into each other, except when they didn’t, which was almost better in a way, because then she got to sink deeper in and untwist them.

“Can’t you work remote? Everyone does now.”

She could. But she knew her father wouldn’t want her to, and it was still his business. She’d made most of the major decisions for the last few years, and she’d be the lead on their client pitch on Monday, but she was still, technically, his employee.

Though, honestly, fuck him. “Mmm.”

“You could just stay for a while. In the rental unit!” Minna’s expression blazed with hope. “You said you’d stay with us if you were staying longer.”

“Is this the rental unit?” Something about this cozy space was attractive to her.

“Oh, no. That’s in the house. Like I said, it’s got its own entrance and everything and, like, really nice sheets. This is just Dad’s hideout, but sometimes I sleep up there.” She pointed at a loft. “You could buy a house here! If you have the money, that is. Do you?”

She had to admit, Minna’s eagerness was adorable, if a little exhausting. “Not enough for a house, no.” Would she and Grant sell their home? Would he want her to buy him out?

“What about a houseboat? Hector Vino is selling his—I heard him talking to Marion at the library about it yesterday. He says it doesn’t leak at all, and it’s really pretty, blue and yellow.”

“A houseboat?” Not leaking at all didn’t quite sound like the most exciting recommendation.

“It’s called the Forget-Me-Knot . Wouldn’t you love to live on a houseboat?”

Beatrice glanced at Reno, but she was proving to be no help at all. “I’ll think about it.”

Minna’s head thunked backward onto the sofa’s edge. “Well, shit.”

Reno said, “Minna, leave it. She said she’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, but she’s Mom’s clone . What does Mom mean when she says she’ll think about it?”

“She means no.”

“Like, no , no.”

How funny, that this girl could know Beatrice, sort of, because Beatrice’s twin was her mother. Beatrice said, “So, that’s kind of a cool superpower you have, huh?”

Minna looked startled, her gaze flying to Reno. “What?”

“Just that you know your mom so well, and apparently, we’re a little bit alike, so that means you kind of know me.”

“Oh. That. Yeah.”

Reno and Minna blinked at each other.

“What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Will you tell me more about you?”

Beatrice sighed. “I promise you, I’m very boring. You, on the other hand, are not boring. Oh! How did the birth go last night?”

Minna’s brows drew together. “Huh?”

“Your mom. She’s a midwife, right? That guy dragged her out right before I left. Was the baby okay?”

“Oh.” Minna and Reno shared that look again. “No one was having a baby.”

“Then…”

“She’s a death doula.”

Beatrice choked. “Pardon?”

“She helps people die. Sits with them and helps them.”

What had the man said? She—it’s all happening so fast, this can’t be normal.

“Shit. Sorry.” She had to stop swearing around Minna. Then, “I wouldn’t have guessed that. Like hospice?”

“Um.” Minna’s gaze slid sideways. “Mom says that hospice provides medical care. A death doula is more like… spiritual care. Actually, that’s how she and Reno got to be friends.”

Frowning, Reno turned and headed toward the door. Without saying good-bye, she left, winding her way through the garden. As she reached the jasmine-covered arbor, she raised her hand to touch the vines, and then she was gone.

“Okay, she’s… intense,” said Beatrice, trying for neutrality. Maybe Reno had simply decided that Beatrice could be trusted around Minna?

“Don’t worry—that’s normal Reno behavior. She built that arbor and planted the jasmine for her wife who died.”

Damn. “Oh, no. That’s awful.”

“She died on the same day my dad died, actually, just years later. Mom helped her go.”

What was she supposed to say to that? “Ah.”

“Mom helped a lot .”

Something rippled under Minna’s voice, but Beatrice didn’t know what it was. “So, if she built the arbor and planted the jasmine, does Reno live here?”

“Kind of? She just really likes building things. Did you see the motor home in our yard, next to the cemetery? That’s hers. She’s like the—what would you call it? The guardian.”

“The groundskeeper?”

Minna said carefully, “Yeah… that’s it. She’s not as weird as she seems, I promise. She’s just gone through a lot, and she’s not the best at small talk. That’s okay, though, neither am I.”

“Small talk is overrated.”

“Exactly! Mom says we all have broken bits and Reno’s damaged pieces just show more on the outside than others.

” She wriggled sideways on the sofa, and her tone turned fierce.

“She’s family, though. She’d do anything for me or for Mom.

Gran and her can’t stand each other, but Reno would take a bullet for her, too.

Although she’d be hella irritated about it. ”

God, it all sounded so pure . “I’m glad you have each other.”

Hugging herself, Minna said, “And now we have you. I know Mom’s gonna be so jealous when she finds out that we’ve already talked so much. I think she’s probably still sleeping in from her late night, but you want to go wake her up?”

“Oh.” Beatrice stood. “No, I definitely don’t want to do that.

I should get back to the hotel, honestly.

I have to—” What? What did she actually have to do?

Nothing. Except to try to be brave in this situation she didn’t understand at all.

“Would you all like to have dinner with me tonight? You think your mom would be free then?”

“Yes and yes. She’s always free,” said Minna simply. “Unless someone dies.”