Sadie’s sprites have behaved themselves for the entire ceremony and reception—until now. I allowed them to attend as long as they didn’t cause trouble. But they have all the willpower and attention span of a pair of toddlers. I track them overhead as they flit among the ballroom’s light fixtures. When they land on the floor they are the “breeze” that kicks up the rose petals. When a centerpiece on one of the tables starts to wobble, I know I will need to act soon.
I scan the dance floor. Sadie is dancing with Nigel, her head on his shoulder, his lips in her hair. Belinda is swaying in the arms of Jack Carlotta, who drove down from Minneapolis for the ceremony. Her eyes are closed, her expression content, even if her smile is wistful.
Maybe because at a table not too far away, Gregory and
