Epilogue
One Year Later
From the top step of the gazebo, Scarlett called out to the gaggle of young women assembled below.
“Everybody ready? On three. One . . . two . . .” She turned her back, looking down mischievously at the bridal bouquet in her hands.
As she spoke the final “three!” she cast a tiny spell on the flowers and sent them sailing like a missile at her elder sister’s forehead.
But Delilah saw it coming. As the projectile neared, she quickly cast her own spell, and the dozen peonies burst into flame, plonking onto the grass at her feet.
A mix of laughter and disappointment could be heard across the green, as “ha!”s and “oh no”s rang out equally.
Scarlett mock-gasped. “How could you, Del?!” She stood with both hands on her hips, looking petulant but beautiful in her strapless A-line wedding gown.
“Because you cheated,” her sister called back. “You clearly enchanted that bouquet.”
“Outrageous! How could you possibly know?”
“Your aim isn’t that good when facing forward! There’s no way you threw it so well backwards.” Delilah gazed down at the smoking blooms. With her shoe she nudged them toward Polly, standing just to her right.
“I’ll pass,” Polly said flatly. “Not interested in your smoldering seconds, thanks.”
Immediately Jerusha swooped in from the left, snatching up the charred stems. A little spell restored the bouquet to its former glory. “One mustn’t be so picky, girls.”
“Are you really looking to get married again at your age?” Delilah asked, grinning.
“As it happens, I’m visiting the UK next month,” replied the 120-plus-year-old. “Mick Jagger is barely into his eighties, as is Patrick Stewart, and Anthony Hopkins isn’t even ninety. So I reckon I have plenty of options.”
“That’s still cradle-robbing for you, Jerusha . . .”
The clinking of silverware against wine glass put an end to any debate. Kelly had joined her daughter atop the gazebo steps, and her voice carried easily across the green. “Everyone! I’m happy to report that dinner is ready. If you could all take your seats.”
Oak Haven’s green had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale—the sort where fairies actually show up to help with decorating.
White tablecloths covered long tables arranged around the green, while hundreds of glass orbs floated in lazy spirals, each one containing a spark of golden light.
Crystal stemware caught the floating lights and scattered tiny rainbows across the linen.
At the center of each table, arrangements of peonies, dahlias, and wild herbs released subtle waves of fragrance that shifted with the evening breeze.
The head table was slightly elevated, draped in champagne silk and adorned with cascading greenery.
Scarlett and Nate held court at its center, flanked by Kelly and the bridesmaids: Delilah with Jasper, Aphra with her wife Dayo, and of course two conspicuously empty chairs that everyone was trying very hard not to stare at.
As the food began its procession from the inn’s kitchen, everyone could see Zahir vibrating with barely contained anxiety.
Scarlett had insisted her old friend attend as a guest, not as chef or staff.
For his part, Zahir had insisted that there was no earthly power that could prevent him from overseeing the menu for this wedding.
Negotiations had been tense, protracted, and eventually involved multiple spreadsheets.
It was agreed that Zahir would prepare as much as possible in advance, and a local catering company would handle the final preparations and service.
That plan lasted approximately twelve minutes.
As servers emerged with the first course—a delicate spring pea soup with crème fra?che and mint oil—Zahir stood up so abruptly his chair toppled over onto the grass.
“No, no, no,” he muttered, sprinting across the green.
“The garnish goes in a spiral, not just dropped in the center. What are we, animals?!”
Scarlett stood. “Zahir. Sit down.”
“But the presentation—”
“Is perfect. Now sit. I’m the bride—you must obey.”
Zahir sighed deeply but returned to his seat.
As the servers distributed their culinary joy to all the tables—despite Zahir’s agitation—Nate stood up, glass in hand.
He nervously surveyed the crowd. “So, um, I just wanted to thank everybody for coming. This was going to be a great day no matter what, but the presence of all of you, all the people who love us and who we love so very much . . . it’s made it not just a great day but the most special one. ”
“A great, most special, very long-awaited day,” Scarlett interjected.
“Fair.” Nate gazed at his bride in a way that suggested the whole damn town could vanish and he wouldn’t even notice. “The long wait was on me, I’m sorry to admit. Speaking of which, I think we all need to thank the members of the magicians’ council, who were kind enough to join us today.”
He gestured at a central table, where four figures sat in varying states of theatrically formal displeasure.
A man in black leather and excessive eyeliner glared at the floral centerpiece like it had personally insulted him.
Beside him, a woman in crimson robes radiated an unsettling stillness, with the rigid posture of a funeral guest. At the far end, two men—one tall, one short—in identical grey suits.
The tall one managed to look at least faintly amused, but the short one looked like he was mentally cataloging escape routes.
“I know things are still, um, tricky between our communities,” Nate continued.
“The recent truce between magicians and witches is really just the beginning. However, it has made today possible in ways big and small. Not least was their help with our forgetting spell problem. For those of you who maybe haven’t heard about this yet, the magicians’ council was kind enough to create what they call memory anchors—sort of like a save point in a computer game, if that reference helps at all.
I’m pretty sure that Belinda— Wait, where’s Belinda?
Oh, there she is. Yeah, Belinda Chatterjee, you’re a big gamer, isn’t that right? ”
“Call of Duty: Black Ops 7, baby!” called Belinda from the back.
“Um . . . sure! If you have questions about save points, talk to Belinda. Point is, now we can save our memories in an enchanted object, and when we return and touch it again, everything comes back. Which means I get to take my wife on a proper honeymoon without forgetting my entire life. For which I am truly grateful.”
“Hear, hear!” Jasper raised his glass in agreement.
Nate gestured back with his own glass, creating a sort of long-distance cheers between them.
“For those of you who haven’t met him, that’s Jasper over there.
The magicians’ save-point solution enables him to continue his work outside Oak Haven and then return to us without poor Delilah having to re-explain her family tree every day.
So you see, we all have something to be grateful for.
In any case, thank you again, and thanks to all of you for joining us. Cheers, everyone.”
Glasses clinked all over the green, and the Earls’ table erupted joyfully. “That’s my son!” Twelve leaped up and waved. “Congratulations, my boy!”
“And my grandson!” added Eleven.
“And my great-grandson,” offered Ten, and so on until all the generations had been adequately acknowledged.
At the table beside the Earls, three figures from New York were making the best of an awkward situation. Hector and Diego sat on either side of Adrienne, the twins’ silver hair catching the floating lights as they surveyed a party where the only person they knew didn’t bother to show up.
“She’s still not here,” Hector said.
“Indeed she is not,” Diego confirmed.
Adrienne shook her head. “Classic Luna Melrose.”
“Hello, folks!” Nine leaned over from the Earls’ table. “First time meeting the Melrose sisters?”
“We know Luna well,” Hector said.
“But the other two,” Diego continued.
“Not so much.”
“Ohhhh I see,” Nine said, chuckling. “You’re from the New York coven.”
Adrienne took a long sip of her wine. “That’s correct. Luna swore she’d be here. Swore it. Said, and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t miss Scarlett’s wedding for anything.’ Ha. Should’ve known.”
“Wellll, you know our girl. She has always been in her own little world a bit. Still, though—” Nine reached out to shake each of their hands in turn.
“I’m awful glad you’re here. Gives me a chance to thank you for all that help last year.
” He turned to his progeny. “Hey fellas, these here are the subway witches. Make ’em feel welcome, yeah? ”
The Earls erupted in enthusiastic welcome, chairs scraping as they all turned to properly greet the newcomers.
“The subway witches!” Ten exclaimed. “Well, blow me down! ’Bout time you visited us here in Oak Haven!”
Eleven raised his glass high. “Any friend of Luna’s—”
“Is probably as mad as she is,” Twelve finished, grinning. “Which means you’re our kind of people!”
“To the subway coven!” Nine called out.
“To new friends!” the Earls chorused, glasses clinking together.
Adrienne looked slightly overwhelmed by the onslaught of pirate hospitality, but she was smiling. “Well, this is—”
“Quite the welcome,” Hector said.
“Quite the family,” Diego agreed.
“Aye, that we are.” Nine settled back into his seat. “And you’re family, too, as far as we’re concerned. Whether Luna is here or no.”
* * *
Over at the head table, Delilah frowned briefly at Luna’s empty chair. Then she sighed and went back to picking at her salmon.
Beside her, Jasper reached idly into his tuxedo pocket. “You really barbecued the hell out of that bouquet, Del. Some people would interpret that as a sign of some sort.”
She shrugged. “Some people believe the Earth is flat.”
“So . . . does that mean you aren’t opposed to marriage?”
Del looked at him, baffled. “No, I’m not opposed to anything. Well, anything except the idea that I’m obligated to catch a bouquet simply because my sister aimed it at my head. I’m not some trained seal.”