The Lady in Residence - Allison Pittman Page 0,102

Hedda after her death, so they took her at her word that it was somehow buried beneath this foundation. Even if she had been rehomed during the times of major renovation, she may have strolled over and tossed this bit of stone among excavated rubble. Or into the concrete. Or behind the marble slabs of this fireplace. They concocted scenarios where she’d embedded it in the bar, with Bert’s help, or beneath the surface of the pool.

“Do you remember,” Quin said, an almost imperceptible quiver in his voice, “what answer she gave when people asked why she stayed?”

She looked up and away; somehow the words on the page came clear in Dini’s mind. “I am simply waiting for that which I have lost to be found and to make its way home where its partner is buried beneath a new foundation.” When she looked at him again, he was holding a small box, and a gasp came from a group of ladies rounding the corner from the Victorian lobby.

“I don’t want to be haunted by you anymore, Dini Blackstone. I don’t want to keep you in my memories, I want to keep you. With me. When I hear your voice, I want it to be because you are next to me.”

“Quin—” The room, her world, her past disappeared behind this moment. Her pulse raced in her ears, and it was just as Hedda described the moment she was face-to-face with the specter of Sallie White. Fear, lodged in her throat, pressing her into place.

“I took some liberties,” Quin was saying, “because I knew nothing else could be as perfect.” Then he opened the box, revealing what she knew would be inside. The amethyst earring—no, now the amethyst ring, released from its case and held out to her.

The band was thick, perfectly proportioned to the stone. She held it in her right hand, seeing it and the witch’s heart together. This ring was not intended to be worn on her first finger, she knew that. It was not a distraction or meant for any kind of conjuring. Its past was buried, gone forever, and here it lived a new life. A new design. A new purpose. She slid the ring onto its intended finger, and everything fell into place. No illusion, nothing magic, but a moment so inevitable it must be true.

“I love you, Dini.”

“This is crazy.”

“I know.”

“I love you, Quin. But I don’t want you to think you’re somehow…I don’t know…bound by some kind of past honor. Would you love me if you weren’t—you know—who you are?”

“I wouldn’t have met you if I wasn’t who I am. Think about it: God set our paths toward each other a hundred years ago.” He took her hands, kissed her pulse, and stood, bringing her to her feet.

“I don’t know how to share my life,” she said. “I don’t know how to be with another person.”

“We’ve been sharing our lives from the moment you spelled my name with the cards.”

Entwined before they met. “It’s like the setup for an illusion,” she said. “All of the planning and rehearsing means nothing if the timing isn’t perfect. If the angle isn’t just right. It seems so effortless, meeting you and just …” She wished she had a flash paper. What a moment to expel a harmless bit of flame.

Instead, Dini snapped her hand, the way she would if she’d drawn a coin from Quin’s ear, and let the amethyst catch the lobby light.

“Will you marry me, Dini?” His question was simple, leaving no room for her own. Like where would they live? Or how would she work? Or whether or not his niece was limber enough to fold herself into a box. All of that would be worked out later. If Hedda and Carmichael taught no other lesson, it was that some questions need answers in the moment, while others could be solved over the course of a lifetime.

She kissed him before saying, simply, “Yes.”

Those who witnessed the moment—and there were many—did so through the lenses of their cameras, capturing each kiss, each gaze. Quin on his knee, Dini and the ring. They exploded in familial joy and approval, posting to their Instagram and Twitter accounts (@Dini-Blackstone, #Proposal #MengerHotel).

Later, much later, that night as she texted a final good night to Quin, she lay beneath her sky of twinkle lights and scrolled through her phone, tapping red hearts and replying, “Thank You!” to a world of well-wishing strangers. She zoomed in on the pictures, looking