The Only Purple House in Town (Fix-It Witches, #4)(46)
“Literally,” Iris added.
Henry Dale let out a long breath, not a sigh, exactly. And when he spoke, his voice was deeper than usual, laced with regret. “I owe you an apology, young lady. I’ve made it my policy not to put my faith in fanciful poppycock, but facts are facts, and I’m truly sorry.”
“Forgiven and forgotten,” Mira said promptly.
“I can waive the deposit,” Iris said, refocusing their attention on the original issue. “But I need to decide what to ask in return… unless fixing my phone screen—”
“Oh, definitely not,” Mira cut in. “A spell like that would cost less than having it physically fixed at a repair shop. Hmm. I could restore the paint in the hallway on the second floor?”
Iris nodded at once. “Sounds good to me. For each project, I’ll discount your rent by 25 percent. Does that seem fair?”
Mira went on, “Definitely! Next month, I’ll do the paint on the third floor for a discount on rent. With that, the whole house interior will be bright and fresh. And we can discuss the rest of the updates as we go.”
“I like that idea.” She paused, trying to decide what else to cover. “It’s a three-month rental agreement and…I told you everything else. So are you interested in moving in?”
“Absolutely,” Mira said. “But is everyone else okay with it?”
“I’m good,” Sally said at once.
Eli nodded.
And Henry Dale didn’t object, so Iris took it for agreement.
As did Mira, evidently, because she said, “Then if you give me your banking details, I’ll transfer the first month’s rent and move in next weekend. Right now, I’m borrowing a friend’s couch, but I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”
“Miz Yoon?” It seemed like Henry Dale had been waiting for a break in the convo, less interested in general logistics, more concerned with a personal request.
Iris glanced at the older man and realized she’d never seen such a tentative expression on his face. She didn’t interrupt since this felt like a pivotal moment. Eli and Sally sat quietly as well, watching with interest. Since Henry Dale had apologized, this must be something else, an important something if the gravity of his expression was any guide.
“Yes?” Mira had already stood up, her business concluded for the time being.
“You can decline if it’s a lot of trouble, but I was wondering… Does that magic of yours work on old technology?”
Mira smiled. “Like a phonograph?”
“Not quite that old.” Henry Dale laced his hands together and spoke quickly without looking at anyone directly. “I have a Walkman, a gift from my best friend. He’s since passed on, and the thing stopped working twenty years ago. Nobody could get it running, but I didn’t have the heart to throw it away. Kept it for sentimental reasons, as it reminds me of good times and Jack. Do you think—?”
“Go get it.” Mira sat down with an expectant smile.
Iris expected Henry Dale to say something more, but he complied with an alacrity that made her sad. Something this important—and he owned so few things—had been gathering dust without him being able to use it for twenty years, but affection kept him hauling the cassette player around. Soon, Henry Dale returned with the Walkman and a cautiously optimistic look. The expression sat strangely on his weathered features, but he gazed at Mira like she might be the sunrise he’d been waiting but not hoping for.
As she had before, the tech witch cradled the old device in her hands, and a soft brilliance flickered between her fingers. She worked on it longer too, until drops of sweat trickled down her temples. This time, Iris could feel the magic in a way she couldn’t before; it drifted over her skin, a mist that hovered somewhere between fog and rain.
In time, Mira opened her eyes and handed it back. “It should work like new. The parts were quite corroded inside, but not beyond my ability to restore. I hope it brings you joy, Henry Dale.”
The old man’s eyes were actually damp. “I can’t thank you enough. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Miz Yoon, tell me right away.”
“It was my pleasure.” Mira turned to leave, clearly needing a break.
“What kind of music do you listen to?” Eli asked Henry Dale, as Iris followed Mira.
“I only have five tapes left; got rid of the rest years ago. Still got…Jim Croce, Johnny Cash, Aretha Franklin, Rush, and Dolly Parton.”
Iris overhead Henry Dale’s reply as they reached the foyer, then she said to Mira, “I hope that didn’t tire you out too much.”
“More than I was planning for, but I could see it meant a lot to him, and he doesn’t strike me as someone who easily asks for favors.”
Iris smiled then. “You’ll fit in perfectly here.”
* * *
The next day, Eli worked with Henry Dale on sanding the porch.
After getting proof that tech witches could renovate a house with magic, he’d expected the older man to be glum, as that might make it seem as if all their hard work was a waste of time. But Henry Dale gave no sign of such thoughts; he was listening to his Walkman as they worked, lost in his own world.
Music often had that effect, possessing the power to transport a listener to a certain moment in time. For instance, whenever Eli heard “Bad Moon Rising,” he remembered the little dance his father did when he was making pancakes, using the spatula as his microphone. He had even fewer memories like that of his mother, but he did recall his mom singing “Ojos Así” while making picadillo for the family.