Page 108 of Enchanted to Meet You

“I’ve often found,” the mayor said, “that nothing bonds people more closely together than a little adversity.”

Was that smile that she gave as she said it a secret one, meant for Derrick and me? Or had it been meant generally, for all of us?

Because we hadn’t stopped holding hands since Esther had narrowly saved West Harbor and all its residents from the apocalyptic deluge.

Not that she seemed to be aware of it. She’d turned back to the serving of bisque she was sharing with Gabby, who’d finally managed to find her, and was astonishing Esther and Lizzie with tales of the adventures she’d had while volunteering as a Harvest Princess.

“And then,” she told them, “these people from Ohio asked me if we catch our own lobsters.Just go out to the pier and catch our own lobsters. With fishing poles. I almost died.”

Esther laughed gently. She seemed as unfazed as Billy by her brush with the supernatural. That was probably, I was sure she’d say, because she was a Scorpio.

“Oh, Esther.” The mayor reached into the inside pocket of the red velvet tuxedo I’d designed for her, then pulled out an envelope. “I almost forgot, this is for you. I wish I’d gotten it to you earlier, but... well, you have it now.”

Esther looked surprised as she took it. “Anotherletter? Should I open it? Here?”

“I think so,” Mrs. Dunleavy said encouragingly, looking radiant in the gown I’d sold her. “I know what it says. I think you’re going to like it.”

Curious, Esther opened the envelope, then pulled out and unfolded a stiff piece of paper.

“What’s it say?” Billy Junior asked.

“It’s a proclamation,” Esther said. She had a funny look on her face, one I didn’t recognize. That’s when I realized it was emotion. Esther didn’t “do” emotions, except the teen basics: sarcasm, amusement, and an occasional combination of both.

But she looked genuinely touched by whatever the mayor had written.

“A proclamation of what, Ess?” Gabby asked.

“Declaring my witch ancestor pardoned of all charges against her.” Esther smiled up at the mayor, her eyes shining. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

“It’s not official, of course,” the mayor said apologetically. “Mayors can’t officially pardon people—especially people who lived over four hundred years ago, and records of whose trial no longer exist. But like I said, I’m happy to help you through that process.”

“Youhave an ancestor who was accused of witchcraft?” Rosalie asked, sounding stunned.

“Yes.” Esther folded the proclamation and put it in her backpack—which of course she’d kept close to her all evening. “On my mother’s side. Elizabeth Fletcher. She wasn’t executed, though, just banished.”

I felt a delicious shiver down my spine. Maybe it was because Derrick was touching me. Or maybe it was something else.

“Us, too!” Lizzie cried, delighted. “Hey, Mom, isn’t Elizabeth Fletcher the name of our great-great-whatever-grandmother who was banished for witchcraft?”

Rosalie’s lips went very small as she looked at Esther. “Yes. Yes, that’s her.”

“Hey!” Lizzie laughed. “I wonder if we’re related!”

Esther grinned. “That’d be cool.”

It was clear from the way Rosalie was struggling to smile that she did not yet consider this cool—but she was trying to get there.

“Did you know about this?” I asked Derrick, under my voice.

“That the witch who wrote your book left it behind after moving to New York, then wrote Rosalie’s? I’ll admit, I suspected. The handwriting is similar.”

“Didn’t everyone back then write the same way? Besides, the ink is so faded, it’s almost impossible to read the thing.”

“Almost,” he said with a knowing smile, “but not quite. You certainly managed.”

I shook my head, amazed that a witch who had lived so long ago could have had such an impact on not only my own life, but the lives of so many others—and had even managed to create a happy ending for herself, as well.

“Look!” Billy cried, pointing. “People are starting to dance. Isn’t that nice, Rosalie?”