Miras - Nora Roberts Apr 2026

The man arrived three days later, in the form of a flat tire on a rain-slicked back road. Mira was driving home with a load of Depression glass when she saw the vintage Ford pickup pulled over, hazards blinking. A man stood in the downpour, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, muttering curses at a lug wrench.

“Isabelle,” they said together.

“Mira Delaney. And you’re welcome.”

“She didn’t disappear,” Mira said softly, understanding blooming like a dark flower. “She was hidden. And she’s been waiting a very long time for someone who could see.” Miras - Nora Roberts

Two months later, a woman came into the shop. She was elegant, silver-haired, dressed in cashmere that cost more than Mira’s rent. She carried a small, velvet-wrapped object. “I was told you might help me,” the woman said. “You have a reputation for… discretion.”

“Both,” she said, surprising herself. “Neither. Depends on the day.”

She expected him to see nothing. A blank stone. He wasn’t a sensitive. But when Caleb looked into the obsidian, his face went pale. “There’s a woman,” he whispered. “She’s holding a candle. She’s saying a name.” He looked up, and his eyes were full of something Mira had never seen there before. Recognition. The man arrived three days later, in the

He turned. And Mira’s heart did a strange, stuttering thing. He was tall, built like a man who worked with his hands, with a sharp jaw and eyes the color of good bourbon—warm amber flecked with gold. But it wasn’t his looks that stole her breath. It was the absence.

Mira’s skin prickled. “I don’t buy mirrors.”

The first time it happened, she was seven. She’d toddled into her grandmother’s dusty attic, drawn by the scent of lavender and old paper. A full-length mirror stood in the corner, its silver backing tarnished into swirling constellations. When she looked into it, her own reflection smiled back. But behind that reflection, like a ghost in a photograph, stood a boy in a blue coat. He was crying. And Mira felt the cold knot of his fear settle in her own belly. “Isabelle,” they said together

Then he stopped in front of the back room. The door was closed, bolted. “What’s in there?”

Caleb let out a slow breath. Then he took the locket from her hands, closed it, and pressed it into her palm. “Then let’s go find her,” he said. “Together.”