Hyacinth Bean Soup If someone has a grievance against you or you’re looking for forgiveness （for yourself or others）， then this is the soup you want. Hearty and perfect for fall and winter. If you can’t find hyacinth beans, substitute navy beans.
Ingredients
1 onion, diced
2 tomatoes, diced
3 medium potatoes, diced
3 medium carrots, diced
2 c. hyacinth beans （also called njahi beans）
3 c. water, vegetable stock, or chicken stock
salt to taste
1 tsp. garlic powder
dash of thyme
Directions
1.?Boil the hyacinth beans twice, changing the water between batches （skip this step if using navy beans, and simply rinse and strain them） 2.?Fry onions in oil until translucent, add tomatoes and carrots and let cook for 2–3 minutes.
3.?Add beans, onion mixture, and potatoes to a slow cooker or stockpot. Add salt, garlic, and thyme. Let cook until the potatoes are done （but not mushy）。
4.?Serve with rice.
??18??
SADIE SPENT THE NEXT six days baking, in and out of the café, returning to her drop-offs at Wharton’s, Lavender and Lace’s, and Poppy Meadows Florist and Gift shop. Florence gave her lessons in focusing her energies, breathing techniques, and meditation practice to guide her magic into the totem … which she still hadn’t chosen. She didn’t hear from Jake. Had no idea if the pecan pie had worked. But one evening when she’d come back from the bakery, there was a small box on the garden gate. Inside was another spoon, this one from Wyoming. There was a bucking bronco perched on top of the handle, and the capital building was etched into the head. She tucked it in her pocket like an amulet.
The day of the full moon dawned bright and crisp as an Envy apple. The house, for once, was silent. No creaks or slamming doors or ominous threats from the grandfather clock. Like it was waiting in suspense with everyone else. A fire roared cheerily in the grate, and someone was making cinnamon toast under the broiler. Sadie found herself rubbing the amethyst on her ring every few minutes, sliding it on and off her finger. Her stomach was in knots, and she could barely stand to drink her coffee for fear it might come back up.
For something to do, she ran to the florist for sunflowers and baby’s breath to arrange on the table for the festival.
She thought about Jake. About the pie she’d dropped off. Had it worked? She knew, even if she wasn’t about to sacrifice her magic, she would’ve risked her last heartbreak for him. Love, real love, no matter how long it lasted, was worth it.
And that was exactly the kind of love she was going to save. Tonight.
She walked home feeling triumphant and stopped in her tracks to stare at the lemon tree in the front yard. Sage had been playing by the trunk only days ago, and the blossoms had been new, but now the branches were heavy with fully ripe lemons. She shook her head with a smile.
The house was practically humming now. Windowpanes rattled. The grandfather clock’s pendulum swung in double time.
Bambi looked up when she entered her room and sat on the bed. Now, there was the question of her totem. It had to be something that was important to her. It had to mean something.
And, just like that, she knew what she wanted to use. But it seemed silly.
A minute later, with her mind made up, she was padding down the hallway to Gigi’s old room. Her hand hesitated before knocking.
“Come in,” Florence called. “Oh, hi, honey. I’m just tidying up.” Her mother’s hair was tucked behind her ears, and she looked impossibly beautiful.
“I decided on my totem,” she told her mom. “What is that?” she added, her eye catching on a cheap gold picture frame as Florence was arranging things on the bedside table.
“It’s the only photo I had of her,” Florence said, following the line of Sadie’s stare.
She hadn’t seen Gigi’s wedding photo for years. There was Gigi, wearing a skirt suit and pumps, her hair perfectly curled under a pillbox hat. And next to her, a man wearing a suit that, despite the sepia tone, was clearly white. With a white trilby. And a long brown cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling up like a question mark.
“He’s the ghost,” Sadie breathed, unable to believe it.
“What,” Florence said, startled. “What ghost?”
“The one I thought was ruining the garden. I kept seeing him.” She shook her head. It didn’t make sense.
“Well, honey, Mom always said he was waiting for her,” her mother mused. “Said he refused to move on without her.”
Of course.