You were right, she texted her.
The typing bubbles popped up instantaneously.
Duh, she wrote back. What was I right about this time?
Gigi didn’t want me to sacrifice my life. She was telling me I had to sacrifice my magic.
Holy shit, Raquel’s answer zoomed back. Sadie could just see her fingers flying over the screen. You’re going to do it?
No, I’m going to let Seth die. Yes, obviously I’m going to do it!
Rock on with your bad self.
Just wanted to say I love you and I’m sorry.
I love you too. Don’t be sorry. We all have our dark days.
Sadie put her phone away with a smile and got out Gigi’s recipe book.
Hyacinth beans were poisonous. But boiling them in two changes of water made them edible. The blast of steam pinked her cheeks as she lifted the lid on the simmering pot. Sorrow. Forgiveness. Regret. After the second boiling started, she got to work chopping onions, letting her tears stream freely down her cheeks, where they left shimmering tracks that looked like stardust. While the onions were frying in the skillet, she cut potatoes, carrots, and tomatoes, and then added them to the onions with a dash of salt and thyme. When the beans were strained, she put everything in the slow cooker and turned it on low.
As it began to simmer, she looked through the window over the sink and watched Florence and Sage in the front yard. Sage was sitting quietly by the lemon tree, its blossoms barely open, playing with what looked like a folded-up piece of paper, and Florence was watching her the way Gigi used to watch Sadie and Seth.
She’d done so many things wrong. Pushed people away so many times. She wondered if it was too late. Even if it was for her, she refused to let it be for Jake. While the beans bubbled merrily in their pot, she took the chocolate pecan pie and walked over to Rock Creek House. The air smelled of moss and sunlight, and if Sadie felt the presence following her, she pretended not to. She thought of knocking but wasn’t ready to face either Jake or Bethany. Maybe that made her a coward. But a trail of hope followed her all the way home. It tasted bright and pure like the first piece of stocking candy on Christmas morning or the sleepy thoughts you have right before you fall asleep. It was hope for Jake to find the truth; for Bethany to love herself enough not to have to lie to keep someone; for Seth’s life; for a relationship with her mother. Hope was a dangerous thing. It was flighty and sharp and wicked in the way it made you dream. But it was also a wild force, a flicker in the dark that helped you face the endless night until the world turned right again. Even if it wasn’t right in the same way. It was new. And though new could be terrifying, it could be beautiful too.
Back in the kitchen, surrounded by cookbooks and the comforting smell of hyacinth beans, Sadie started the rice, adding three tablespoons of butter and a dash of salt. She was making the salad when Seth came in.
“You’re making dinner?” he asked in surprise.
“It’s an apology dinner,” she told him. “Think it’ll work?”
“I don’t know. You’ve kind of been a pain in the ass,” he mused.
“Tell me about it,” she said, laughing. “Help me set the table?”
“What brought all this about?” he asked, taking the silverware from her.
“I’ll tell you at dinner. When Florence is here.”
“You can call her ‘Mom,’ you know.”
“When Mom is here, then,” she said, and the word barely stuck on her tongue.
“Wow. Progress. What is the world coming to?”
“Armageddon,” she answered seriously.
“Are you one of the four horsemen?”
“Famine, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he said, nodding and staring at the basket of naan bread she’d just put in the center of the table. “Guess that makes me death,” he added as an afterthought.
“We’ll see about that.”
Just as the rice finished, Sadie opened the window.
“Dinner!” she called out, and Sage came running.
“Well, isn’t this fancy,” Florence said, her eyebrows saying more than her words.
“Yum,” Sage said, sticking her nose in the air and inhaling.
Sadie ladled the soup into bowls, and Sage carried them to the table.
“This is hyacinth bean soup,” Florence said in surprise.
“It’s my way of saying ‘I’m sorry,’” Sadie said.
“You really are Gigi’s granddaughter.” Florence laughed ruefully and took a bite. “Even better than Mom made it.” She dipped a piece of naan in her soup and closed her eyes.