He looks at the building for another moment before falling in step beside me. We turn onto Main Street, and I watch as the charm of it washes over him, brightening his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Landon, are you ready to experience the best cheese of your life?” I ask.
“That’s a lofty statement, Miss Fairchild.”
“I stand by it,” I say.
Landon tips his head to the side, considering me. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
The bell rings as we enter the Mouse Trap, and Mrs. Cotts runs out from the back to greet us. Her eyes widen and her smile spreads as she takes in the sight of the island’s highest daughter and the mainland’s most powerful son together.
Landon takes my hand, a confident smile settling on his face.
And so it begins.
thirteen
Once we’ve filled our picnic basket with meats, cheeses, bread, and rose water, we make our way to our last stop on Main Street: the perfumery. Wisteria hangs from the top of the stone storefront, filling the air with its sweet fragrance, and we walk inside to a group of mainlanders who look up as we enter.
Silence creeps through the store like fog through the trees.
I instinctively look down, but Landon keeps his head high. He turns to me and lowers his mouth to my ear. “Don’t let them off so easily. It’s rude to stare,” he whispers, so quietly only I can hear. “Let them know it.”
I look back up and make eye contact with each of the mainlanders, and each one looks away as if I’ve caught them stealing.
It feels good, letting them know I’ve noticed their scrutiny.
Finally, they begin chatting again, keeping their voices low as they walk out the store and leave us to ourselves.
“Scaring away our customers?” Dad asks with a wink when he walks out of the back room.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it. I’ll be in the back if you need anything.” Dad gives me a soft smile before disappearing.
“So, this is your family’s shop,” Landon says as he looks around the room. It’s bright and airy, with wooden shelves the color of honey and white wallpaper walls printed with delicate ferns outlined in black. Dozens of plants sit on the shelves between rows of glass bottles, and a small chandelier with crystal lights in the shape of rosebuds hangs from the ceiling. Votive candles are nestled on the shelves, and small glass bottles filled with coffee beans sit beside them.
Dad is humming in the back, and it somehow adds to the charm of the perfumery.
“It is,” I say proudly, looking around the room.
I love it here.
“It’s something special,” he says. I look up at him and smile.
“I think so, too.” I lead him to the shelf that holds our more earthy, spicy colognes. “I’d love for you to pick one to take home with you.”
“Really?” he asks, his eyes drifting over the labels. He looks delighted, and it fills me with happiness.
“Absolutely,” I say.
He sets our picnic basket on the ground and takes his time gently removing lids to smell each scent, pausing often to sniff the coffee beans and clear the prior fragrance.
In the end, he chooses our Driftwood scent, magicked with a subtle calm that puts anyone around the wearer at ease.
“Great choice. It’s one of my favorites,” I say.
He presses the top once, and the briny, fresh scent fills the space between us.
“I love it,” he says, putting the cap back on and gently placing it in our basket. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Ready for our picnic?”
“I am.”
I feel my father’s eyes follow us out of the shop, and it feels good to breathe the cool autumn air. An easy breeze picks up around us, and it instantly makes me think of Wolfe.
Floating above the water with him.
Being pulled to the surface by him.
Lying in the sand next to him.
I shake my head and dispel the images, dislodging them as if they’re debris in a gutter.
I lead Landon to a beach on the eastern shore so we can see the mainland in the distance as we eat. Most mainlanders like to see their city across the Passage—just another way to make them feel more at ease with us.
I spread one of our blankets on the sand, a perfectly chosen spot that backs up to a dune with long grasses and shrubs. It gives us some sense of privacy, and I settle onto the blanket as Landon empties our basket. He pulls out a bundle of fresh lavender, studying it.
“How are the flowers here always in bloom?”