Chapter 16: Sisterly Secrets on the Shore
The salt air hit Mandy like a benediction as she jogged down the beach, her damp hair whipping around her shoulders. She'd thrown on a loose tank top and cutoff shorts, her feet bare against the warm sand, and every step felt lighter than it had in weeks. The magic was gone. The weight of it—the constant hum of foreign power under her skin—had evaporated like morning mist, leaving behind nothing but the pleasant ache of thoroughly exercised muscles and the giddy thrill of new beginnings.
Shiv's house rose up ahead, all glass and weathered wood, its wraparound deck catching the late morning sun. Mandy took the steps two at a time, yanked open the sliding glass door, and burst into the living room with all the grace of a golden retriever who'd just spotted its favorite human.
"Beth! Calista! Where are you?"
A muffled response came from the upstairs bedroom, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone knocking over a lamp. Mandy grinned and took the stairs, her wet footprints marking the hardwood like breadcrumbs.
The door to Beth's room was ajar, and Mandy pushed it open to find chaos. Clothes everywhere—dresses draped over the chair, leggings spilling out of drawers, a mountain of shoes threatening to avalanche from the closet. Beth was standing in front of the full-length mirror in nothing but a lacy bra and a pair of high-waisted shorts, holding up two very different options: a sleek black sheath dress and a flowing crimson caftan.
Calista was perched on the edge of Beth's bed, looking like she'd stepped out of a painting—silver hair cascading over one shoulder, dressed in simple white linen that somehow made her look ethereal. Her silver eyes flicked up as Mandy entered, a knowing smile already playing at her lips.
"Well, well. Look who finally emerged from her cave."
"Very funny." Mandy flopped onto the bed beside her, still slightly out of breath. "I had things to do."
"Things," Calista repeated, her voice dripping with amusement. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
Beth turned from the mirror, her expression caught between curiosity and anticipation. "Spill. Now. We've been dying up here—Shiv's been giving us updates but they're all very 'Jan Siobhan says the magic is broken, everyone is fine.' That's not enough. I need details."
Mandy stretched out on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows. The post-shower glow was still fading from her skin, and she could feel the ghost of Ben's hands, Jess's mouth, the press of their bodies against hers. A flush crept up her neck as she thought about how to phrase this.
"So, funny story," she began. "Turns out the elf spell needed more than just physical release. It needed an emotional climax. A real bond."
Calista's eyebrows rose. "And?"
"And Ben and Jess and I figured out a way to make that happen."
Beth's mouth dropped open. The crimson caftan slid from her fingers, pooling on the floor unnoticed. "Wait. Wait. You and Ben and Jess? Like—all three of you?"
"All three of us." Mandy sat up, unable to suppress the grin spreading across her face. "We're together now. All of us. It's official."
The silence that followed was deafening. Calista's silver eyes widened, and something shifted in her expression—not shock, exactly, but a thoughtful recognition. A puzzle piece sliding into place.
"I knew it," she said softly.
"You knew what?"
"I sensed something missing for you even with Ben around." Calista's voice was gentle, almost reverent. "A gap in your aura. Sometimes it takes more than one person to fill a space like that."
Beth dropped onto the bed beside them, her knees hitting the mattress hard. "That's—that's amazing. And terrifying. And also—" She shook her head, a grin breaking through. "Honestly, I'm not surprised. I saw how you two looked at each other after the courtroom thing."
"That was nothing," Mandy said, but her cheeks warmed. "I mean, it was something, but it wasn't—it wasn't anything I acted on. Not until the spell forced the issue."
"Spells don't force anything," Calista said, her voice carrying the weight of elven wisdom. "They amplify what's already there. The magic didn't create your feelings for Jess. It just made them impossible to ignore."
Mandy considered that, turning the words over in her mind. She thought about Jess's hands, the way they'd trembled when she'd first seen the courtroom. The way her eyes had gone soft when she'd looked at Mandy in the basement. The way she'd said, "I've been attracted to you since we met."
"No," Mandy agreed slowly. "It didn't create them. But it sure as hell accelerated the timeline."
The three of them sprawled across the bed together, a tangle of limbs and fabric, the afternoon light streaming through the windows and catching the dust motes floating in the air. Beth's camera was lying on the nightstand, and Mandy could see the faint marks of the straps on her sister's shoulders—she'd been photographing something, probably the waves or the gulls or some other natural wonder that caught her eye.
"So," Beth said, propping herself up on one elbow, "what's it like? Being with two people at once?"
There it was. The question Mandy had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. She let out a low laugh, running a hand through her still-damp hair.
"It's like—imagine trying to solve a puzzle, except the puzzle has three dimensions and every time you think you've got it figured out, someone moves a piece. But in a good way. In a way that makes it more interesting, not more frustrating."
"That's very poetic for you, sis," Beth teased.
"I have my moments."
Calista laughed, a sound like wind through silver chimes. "What I want to know is how you managed to get them alone long enough to—" She paused, her silver eyes dancing. "—have the conversation. Or did it start as a different kind of conversation entirely?"
Mandy felt her cheeks flame. "We, uh. We had a talk first. With Fatima and Jan. Boundaries, expectations, that kind of thing. Very mature and responsible."
"But before that?"
"Before that, Jess and I were riding out the spell in the basement. And Ben came down when I called him. We were all standing there, naked, covered in sweat and each other's—" Mandy caught herself, clearing her throat. "Anyway, we figured things out."
Beth's grin was wicked. "I bet you did. So, who did what to whom? No, actually, wait—I don't want to know about my sister's sex life in that much detail. I'd rather just hear the highlights. The emotional highlights."
"Emotional highlights," Mandy repeated, tasting the phrase. "Well. The biggest one was realizing I don't have to be all things to all people. With Ben, I'm the tech nerd who can fix anything. With Jess, I'm the awkward introvert who somehow makes her feel safe. And together, they make me feel like I can be all of myself without having to pick just one version."
Calista reached out and squeezed Mandy's hand. There was something in her silver eyes, a depth of emotion that she didn't often let show. "That's beautiful. And they're both good for you. I can sense that much."
"Not as good as I am," Mandy said, turning playful again. "But they're doing their best."
Beth threw a pillow at her. "Ugh. You're insufferable. I'm happy for you—genuinely, I am—but you're absolutely insufferable."
"How's Marty doing?" Mandy asked, deflecting with a grin. "Still learning how to live outside the void?"
Beth's expression softened at the mention of his name. "He's getting there. Slowly. Some things still throw him off—he spent yesterday watching the ice cream truck drive by eleven times because he couldn't figure out why it kept playing the same song. But he's learning. And he's sweet. Really, really sweet."
"Sweet enough to make you forget about photography for a few hours?"
Beth's cheeks flushed. "I mean, I still photograph things. I photographed him eating a popsicle last week. He got mango juice all over his face, and he looked so happy and confused and innocent that I just—I had to capture it. But also—" She paused, her blush deepening. "We've been spending a lot of time together. Just the two of us."
"Uh-huh," Mandy said, drawing out the word. "And what does 'a lot of time' look like exactly?"
"None of your business, nosy."
"Fair enough." Mandy turned to Calista. "What about you, silver sister? Anyone special in your life? Or are you still playing the field?"
Calista laughed, leaning back against the headboard. There was a grace to the movement, an otherworldly elegance that Mandy had never quite been able to match. "I'm content with my situation. My work keeps me busy, and I have you two to annoy whenever I get lonely."
"That's not an answer," Mandy pressed.
"I'm aware." Calista's smile was enigmatic. "Let's just say I'm keeping my options open. There are plenty of interesting people in this world, and I have plenty of time to meet them."
Mandy caught something in her voice, a subtle undertone that made her curious. But before she could probe further, the sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupted them. A moment later, Shiv appeared in the doorway, her red hair pulled back in a loose bun, her green eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Ah, the prodigal daughter returns," she said, her Irish brogue warm and welcoming. "I take it things are well in Mandy-land?"
"Better than well, Shiv. Much better."
"Good." Shiv's gaze flickered to Beth. "There's a phone call for you in the kitchen, sweetling. Kalen something? He says you're supposed to be meeting this afternoon about your exhibition."
Beth's face lit up. "Kalen! I completely forgot. He's the curator at the museum—he's been helping me set up the gallery show." She scrambled off the bed, straightening her clothes. "I'll be right back. Don't say anything good without me."
She vanished down the stairs, leaving Mandy and Calista alone in the suddenly quiet room. Calista turned her silver gaze on Mandy, her expression thoughtful.
"So. You're really doing this. The whole—multi-partner thing."
"Really doing it." Mandy picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. "It's weird, honestly. I've never been good at sharing. When I was a kid, I used to hide my crayons from Beth so she couldn't steal my favorite colors."
"People aren't crayons."
"I know. That's what makes it both more complicated and more worth it." Mandy looked at Calista, really looked at her. "Do you think it's a good idea? Not the relationship, but the way it happened? The timing seems rushed, even for me."
Calista considered the question, her silver eyes distant for a moment. "I think," she said slowly, "that magic has a way of revealing truths we've been hiding from ourselves. The bond you've formed with Ben and Jess might have been accelerated by the spell, but it's not artificial. I could sense the connection between you even before the mess with Alban. It was there—quiet, waiting for the right moment to bloom."
"But is the right moment now?"
"I can't answer that for you." Calista's voice was soft, almost tender. "But I can tell you this: love doesn't care about convenience. It doesn't wait for the stars to align. It shows up unannounced and demands you pay attention. The question isn't whether you're ready. The question is whether you're willing to grow into it."
Mandy absorbed her words, feeling the truth of them settle into her bones. She'd spent so long being the practical one, the problem-solver, the person who had all the answers. But this—this thing she was building with Ben and Jess—it was a different kind of challenge. One that required her to be vulnerable, uncertain, open to things she couldn't control.
"When did you get so wise?" she asked, only half-teasing.
"About the same time you realized you couldn't fix everything with a laptop." Calista grinned, the expression making her look almost human. "Some of us learn faster than others."
"Oh, shut up."
Beth returned moments later, practically vibrating with excitement. "Okay, so that was Kalen. He says the gallery space is ready, and he's got the lighting setup planned perfectly—he was asking about some of my pieces to make sure they match his vision." She bounced onto the bed, landing between Mandy and Calista. "You're all coming tonight, right? This is a huge deal for me."
"Wouldn't miss it for anything," Mandy said.
"I'll be there," Calista added. "I wouldn't miss seeing my favorite photographer's work displayed in a real gallery."
"Not just a real gallery," Beth corrected, her grin widening. "A museum gallery. With actual curators and everything. This is—" She shook her head, seeming to struggle with the weight of it. "This is everything I've been working toward since I started taking pictures."
Mandy felt a surge of pride. Beth had worked so hard for this, pouring her heart and soul into her photography while also trying to help Marty adjust to a world he barely understood. To see her sister's dreams becoming reality was a powerful thing.
"We'll be in the front row," Mandy assured her. "And I'm bringing Ben and Jess—if that's okay. They're part of my life now, and I want them there."
Beth's eyes, her photographer's eye, saw everything. "Of course it's okay. The more the merrier. And if they're going to be part of the family, they need to see us in action. Witness the Williamson siblings in their natural habitat."
"Natural habitat includes chaos and too much laughter," Calista added dryly.
"And questionable decisions made in the heat of the moment," Mandy said.
"And unconditional support," Beth finished, reaching out to grab both their hands. "No matter what."
The three of them sat there, linked together, the bond between them as real as anything Mandy had ever felt. She'd been worried, somewhere in the back of her mind, that forming a new relationship with Ben and Jess might somehow make the connection to her sisters weaker. But sitting here now, she realized that was impossible. This was her foundation. Her family. Her roots.
And she'd simply grown new branches.
"You two are the best," Mandy said quietly. "You know that, right?"
"Obviously," Calista said.
"Just don't tell Mom," Beth added. "She'll get jealous."
They dissolved into laughter, the sound echoing through the beach house like music. Mandy felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulled it out to see a text from Ben: Can't stop thinking about this morning. You still free for lunch?
She smiled down at the screen, warmth flooding through her. Always, she texted back. Bring Jess.
A moment later, his reply came: She's right here. We're both on our way. Want us to pick anything up?
Surprise me. But nothing too greasy. I want to be able to kiss you both without tastin' it.
Deal.
Mandy tucked her phone away, her grin so wide it hurt. Beth raised an eyebrow.
"Let me guess—the lovebirds?"
"The lovebirds," Mandy confirmed. "They're on their way."
"We'll clear out," Beth said, already standing, "and let you have some time before the madness of tonight. I need to finish getting ready anyway—I've got to pick out a dress that makes me look like a proper artist and not a beach bum."
"For the record," Calista said, rising gracefully, "you'd look like a beach bum even in couture. It's part of your charm."
"Gee, thanks, sis. Really feeling the support here."
"Support comes in many forms. Honesty is one of them."
Beth threw a pillow at Calista, which she caught with fluid grace, setting it back on the bed. "Be good, you two. Mandy, don't let them talk you into anything too scandalous before the show tonight. We need you presentable."
"No promises," Mandy said, stretching. "But I'll do my best."
She watched her sisters descend the stairs, their voices fading into the kitchen where Shiv was undoubtedly preparing some Irish delicacy or other. And then she was alone, surrounded by the quiet hum of Beth's abandoned camera equipment and the scent of salt and sunscreen.
She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and let herself feel the fullness of the moment. She was in love—with Ben, with Jess, with the life she was building here in Miami. It might be unconventional, messy, complicated. But it was hers. All hers.
When Ben and Jess arrived, sandy and smiling and looking at her like she was the sun itself, Mandy felt something click into place. She stood, crossing the room, and pulled them both into a kiss that tasted like mango juice and sea spray and the promise of everything to come.
"Are you two ready for tonight?" she asked, her voice breathless.
"Ready as we'll ever be," Ben said.
"More than ready," Jess added. "We get to see you in a dress. That alone is worth whatever family drama we're in for."
Mandy laughed, threading her fingers through both of theirs. "Then let's go. We've got a gallery show to attend, and I need to make sure my sisters look as good as they deserve to."
"Your sisters are stunning," Jess pointed out.
"They're also obnoxious. Which is worse."
"Must be a family trait," Ben teased.
Mandy grinned, pulling them towards the door. "Oh, you have no idea."
The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose, when Mandy finally pulled herself away from Ben and Jess's embrace. The afternoon had slipped by in a haze of shared touches and whispered promises, but the evening ahead demanded their attention.
"I need to get ready," Mandy said, her voice still thick with desire. "And you two need to find something appropriate to wear to an art gallery."
Jess laughed, her hand still resting on Ben's thigh. "We'll manage. Golden Wands are experts at blending in."
"Just don't blend in too well. I want to be able to spot you across the room."
Ben leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You'll spot us. We'll be the ones staring at you the whole night."
Mandy felt warmth bloom in her chest, something tender and fragile and entirely new. She'd never been good at accepting compliments, at letting herself be seen. But with them, it felt natural.
"I'll see you there," she promised.
They left, their hands intertwined, and Mandy stood on the porch watching them go until they were just specks in the distance. Then she turned, squared her shoulders, and went to find something devastating to wear.
---
The gallery was a converted warehouse on the edge of the arts district, all exposed brick and industrial lighting that had been carefully calibrated to cast the artwork in its best possible glow. Beth's photographs lined the walls—stunning black-and-white studies of the ocean, intimate portraits of Marty with his messy red hair and wondering eyes, and a series of abstract compositions that seemed to capture the very essence of light and shadow.
Mike felt a lump form in his throat as he took it all in. His baby girl had done this. His little Lizzy, the wild-child who'd spent her teenage years chasing storms with her camera, had created something worthy of a museum's walls.
"Stop fidgeting," Casey said, her hands smoothing the lapels of his perpetually rumpled suit jacket. "You look fine."
"I look like I slept in this."
"You did. But it's a good look on you."
Mike snorted, but he let her fuss over him anyway. Casey was wearing a deep burgundy dress tonight, something that hugged her curves in all the right places and made her look every bit the successful artist she was. She'd forgone the gallery dress she wore last time when they were turned into a statue, and she was clearly determined to enjoy this one properly.
"You think she's nervous?" Mike asked, nodding toward where Beth was standing with Marty.
"Terrified. But she's hiding it well."
Beth was indeed the picture of composure—a tailored suit that looked like it had been recut from one of Mike's old ones, her short blonde hair slicked back, a glass of champagne held loosely in her fingers. Marty stood beside her, looking both overwhelmed and deeply proud, his red hair catching the gallery lights like a beacon.
The crowd was a strange mix of Miami's art elite and their extended family, the latter significantly more colorful. Rick was there with Stacy, the two of them a study in contrasts—Rick in his simple button-down, Stacy in a sleek sheath dress that screamed money and power. They moved through the crowd like they'd been doing this for decades, which, Mike supposed, they had in some ways.
He spotted Felicity with Bruce, the scholarly blonde looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, while Bruce regaled a group of art patrons with what sounded like a very dramatic retelling of some engineering feat. Mai was working the room, flirting with every server who came within ten feet of her, each one escaping with a polite smile and a quick excuse.
Beside Mai stood Barbie, looking like she'd rather be back in the ocean. The mermaid had managed to get her legs to cooperate for the evening, but her expression suggested she was mentally calculating how quickly she could escape to the nearest body of water. She was wearing a simple green dress that matched her sea-green hair, and she kept alternating between looking mortified and looking fascinated by the hors d'oeuvres.
Judy was examining one of Beth's photographs with the intensity of a woman about to write a very large check. Shiv stood beside her, offering quiet commentary in between sips of whiskey. The two women made an unlikely pair—Judy in her designer gown, Shiv in her sensible black dress—but they seemed to have found common ground.
"The nude basketball series," Casey said, appearing at Mike's elbow. "Apparently Maryam posed for those."
Mike squinted at the photographs in question. A couple, both athletically built, playing a very naked game of one-on-one. The woman's face was obscured by motion blur, as was the man's, but the man was clearly Ben Bryant.
"I'm not going to tell Hank," Mike said. "It's not my place."
"Mandy's going to have a field day with that."
"Let her. It's Beth's night."
Kim and Maryam were across the room, Kim serene and meditative, Maryam looking like she was trying very hard to appear casual while her eyes kept darting toward the basketball photos. Fatima was watching her daughters with an expression of amused tolerance, while Hank looked thoroughly lost in a conversation with Franklin Sweeney about the merits of different tractor models.
Franklin, to his credit, was handling it with grace. The dark-haired young man with the inky fingers was nodding along, occasionally offering a comment that seemed to satisfy Hank's need to talk about farm equipment. His cousin Jesse stood beside him, a dark-haired beauty with an expression of patient suffering that suggested she had been through this particular conversation before.
Jan was holding court near the bar, telling a story that had a group of art patrons laughing and blushing in equal measure. Godfrey, wearing a bow tie that matched Jan's dress, lay at her feet looking profoundly bored by the entire proceedings.
"Where's Calista?" Mike asked, scanning the room.
Casey pointed. Their adopted daughter had just emerged from behind a freestanding display wall, and the effect was immediate. Half the room turned to look at her. The dress she was wearing seemed to be held together by sheer willpower and elf glamour—a shimmering silver creation that barely covered her otherworldly figure, catching the light in ways that made her look like moonlight made flesh.
"She's going to cause a car accident," Mike said.
"That's her superpower. I've learned to accept it."
As if sensing their attention, Calista looked up and offered them a wave that was somehow both elegant and teasing. Then she glided over to join Beth and Marty, drawing the kind of attention that Beth's photographs deserved but weren't currently receiving.
"Your daughter is going to be the death of us," Mike muttered.
"One of them, anyway."
The room was starting to fill more, the hum of conversation rising as more guests arrived. Franklin's cousin Jesse drifted away from the tractor conversation, looking for a more interesting corner. Mandy worked her way through the crowd toward a group of patrons admiring one of Beth's ocean series. But Mike kept scanning the entrance, waiting.
"Are you nervous?" Casey asked.
"About what?"
"About seeing Mandy again. After everything that happened."
Mike considered the question. "No. She's an adult. She makes her own choices, even the weird ones."
"The weird ones that end up making her happy?"
"That's what I'm choosing to focus on. She looked happy. Genuinely happy."
Casey followed his gaze across the room to where Mandy was now standing, still in her elegant blue dress, laughing at something one of the patrons said. It was a real laugh, not the forced one she'd been carrying around for weeks.
"Everyone thinks they know what their kids' lives will look like," Casey said, her voice distant. "Graduations, weddings, grandchildren. They don't picture their daughter in an honest-to-goodness triad with a man and a woman."
"Nothing wrong with it," Mike said firmly. "She's happy. That's all that matters to me."
"I take it the triad... that's going well?"
"It seems to be. Ben's a good kid—a bit startled by it all, but good. And I don't know Jess," he admitted, the name feeling strangely intimate, "but she's got that look, that I-want-to-create-a-family-and-make-it-work look. I saw it in you the first time we met."
Casey's brow furrowed, not entirely convinced. But she didn't argue.
The opening remarks were about to begin. The curator, a silver-haired man with tortoiseshell glasses and a charming smile, was making his way toward the microphone. Beth looked like she was trying to keep the shock in. Marty was squeezing her shoulder in silent support. Calista was smiling at the crowd like she was considering adopting the whole room.
Jan was still holding court, telling some story about a golem and a hot tub, her audience leaning in with expressions ranging from disbelief to delight. Godfrey perked up his ears, as if he'd heard a familiar word.
"Well," Mike said, taking Casey's hand, "here we go."
"I love it," Casey whispered back. "Our family is absolutely insane."
"I know. Best thing ever."
The curator tapped the microphone, the sound cutting through the chatter like a knife. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight. I'm delighted to be here to introduce the work of a truly gifted photographer—a rising star of the Miami art community, a woman who knows how to capture the soul of a subject with nothing but a camera and an eye..."
Mandy moved closer to Ben, her fingers brushing his. He was standing rigid, as if he were afraid of breaking something. She grinned, leaning in. "He's not going to bite you, Ben. You're safe."
"I'm not afraid of the curator," Ben said. "I'm afraid of your family finding out I'm the naked basketball guy."
"Oh, they've known all evening. Uncle Hank's been trying to figure out which one is you for an hour."
Ben buried his face in his hands. "End me."
Mandy patted his shoulder with mock sympathy. "Too late. You're one of us now. That means you're in for life."
"She's right," Jess added, her hand sliding into his. "We protect our own. Weird family tree notwithstanding."
"That's the problem," Ben said. "It's not just a tree, it's a whole forest. A forest of naked basketball photos and time-traveling grandmas."
"Careful," Mandy warned. "That time-traveling grandma is Stacy."
Ben looked at her, eyes wide. "I'm going to die here."