CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Henry dale!” iris scolded. “You didn’t want to hold a séance because you’re willing to believe ghosts are real, but you draw the line at witches?”
Before Iris could say more, Mira stood. “I take it this is my other potential roommate?” She stepped toward him and offered a handshake. Looking bemused, Henry Dale accepted, and Mira went on, “Have you ever met a witch?”
“Of course not! They’re fictional,” the old man snapped.
“See, that’s where your analysis breaks down. That would be like you claiming that because you’ve never met an Italian person, that they too are fictional. I’m a witch. You’ve met me. And hopefully, you’ll see that it’s merely one facet of my existence.”
At that point, Iris stepped in because she could see that Henry Dale was about to escalate the argument. “So you were saying that you can actually use your magic to update the house?”
“Precisely. I’m willing to do one spell per month for a discount on the rent. Though bear in mind, for larger tasks, I need to break them down into more manageable stages.”
That explanation made sense to Iris. Energy was finite, so Mira wouldn’t be able to snap her fingers and restore the whole house exterior. At least, not without more witches to increase the size of her magic pool. Otherwise, she’d be too exhausted to function at her day job. Sally was practically vibrating with excitement over the idea while Iris found Eli more difficult to read. He wasn’t openly antagonistic like Henry Dale, but it seemed like he might be reserving judgment.
“Would it be possible to get a tiny demonstration? Not that I don’t believe you, but…” She couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence.
“But you’d still like to see for yourself?” Mira’s gentle suggestion took the pressure off, and Iris nodded gratefully.
“Me too!” Sally put in.
Henry Dale made a skeptical sound, but she noticed that he didn’t make himself scarce either. Instead, he perched on the edge of the sofa next to Eli, as if he had no intention of missing whatever the next step might be. Mira glanced around the house as if seeking something in need of repairs, and Iris promptly pulled out her phone.
“It has a tiny crack, right here.” She pointed at the lower right corner of the screen, showing the minor fault to everyone before she handed it over.
“Oh, this will be easy. It’s a small problem and quite superficial.” The tech witch took the phone and ran her fingers over the front, closing her eyes as she did so. “Everything is fine inside, so…”
A soft glow rose from Mira’s fingertips as she smoothed them over Iris’s screen, and then she handed the phone back. No nick. No fissure. It looked as it had when Iris had purchased it. Holy crap.
“I’m convinced,” Sally declared. “You’re incredible, Mira! Are you all right, though, dear? Do you need some cookies or orange juice?”
Mira laughed. “I didn’t donate blood. Yes, I’m fine. That was a tiny working, so it scarcely impacted my magic at all.”
“I’ve never been to Fix-It Witches,” Sally said. “Now I have regrets. I bet their customers love seeing the magic happen.”
“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.”