“I tried to call Gigi’s spirit one day. In the forest. He tried to stop me.”
“Sounds about right,” Florence smiled. “Once he finally got her, there’s no way he’d let you try to bring her back, even for a chat.”
A weight lifted from Sadie’s shoulders.
“But if they’re together now, why’d he come back?”
“All his kids gathered in one place? I doubt he could stay away. He’s been gone awhile, and from what I understand, the more time someone’s been gone, the stronger their ability to project their spirit.”
“Do you think I could see Gigi one day?” Sadie asked, her voice sticking in her throat at the thought.
“What did you decide for your totem?” Florence asked instead of answering.
Sadie held up a finger and then ducked into Gigi’s bathroom. She rummaged through the cabinet until she found it.
“Mom’s hairbrush?” her mother asked in confusion, staring at the old pale pink plastic brush.
“I know, but I knew I wanted to use something of Gigi’s. I just couldn’t figure out what. And every time I thought of her, I pictured her doing her hair. I’d always sit on her bed and talk to her while she pinned it into curls and tied it up with this brown scarf she had. And then she’d use this to tease out the curls when it was dry. I just—I love those memories.”
“I understand,” Florence said softly. “It’s perfect. But …” She paused.
“I know. I’ll have to destroy it. But I’ll have the memories, and that’s what matters.”
Her mom didn’t say anything to that. She just reached out and put a warm hand on Sadie’s arm.
“You’re going to do great. Come on, let’s go get breakfast before Sage eats all the cereal.”
They spent the rest of the morning baking and chatting about the festival. They made maple butterscotch walnut fudge and verbena loaf cakes with lavender and lemon icing. They made Sadie’s rendition of the traditional Chinese moon cakes, round pastries filled with lotus seed paste and apricot jam in place of egg yolk. Sadie taught them, as Gigi had taught her, how to stew the dried lotus seeds until soft, and then they took turns mashing them by hand into a fine paste. After being watered down and passed through a sieve and into cheesecloth, they squeezed the mixture dry until it resembled a crumbly paste, then added sugar, honey, and sunflower oil to produce a smooth, sweet substance that paired perfectly with the pastry dough.
“Lotus seeds grow through muddy water,” Sadie told Sage. “But even though its beginnings are dirty, they grow spectacularly beautiful flowers. That’s why they symbolize spiritual growth and will help the eater to overcome obstacles. There’s a small pond just beyond our property line where I keep these growing. I’ll teach you how, if you want.”
“I don’t like mud.” Sage frowned.
“Very well,” Sadie said, suppressing a laugh. “Maybe I’ll keep that task for myself, then. But sometimes it’s fun to get your hands dirty.” She winked at the girl.
Sadie made tomato and cheese sandwiches for lunch, with homemade dill pickles, which Sage turned her nose up at. And constantly Sadie had to fight the rising panic that scratched at the back of her throat and caused hives to break out on her arms, like she’d wrestled with stinging nettle.
It’s going to work, she repeated to herself over and over. Because the alternative was impossible to consider. Even if a small part of her was still trying to figure out any possible way she could keep a sliver of her magic.
At two o’clock Raquel came over, and they started loading the cars with folding tables and lanterns. Sadie dressed in warm black leggings and a saffron-colored sweater that reached to mid-thigh. Her hair couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be curly or straight, so she put it in a messy bun on top of her head, where its changes would be less noticeable.
By three thirty they were pulling out. Sadie, Raquel, and Seth drove in Sadie’s old Subaru, and Sage followed with Florence in their car.
Main Street was blocked off to all but vendor traffic. All up and down the street, tents and E-Z Ups were being set up. Sadie drove slowly as Miss Janet led her to their reserved spot right on the corner where the best foot traffic would be. They got to work setting up the tables. Sage, who had an artful eye, helped organize the jams, olive oils, and honey around overturned old wooden crates. They placed small gourds and pumpkins on the table, and Sage found some colorful fall leaves to strew about. And everywhere, there was the hustle and bustle of other vendors doing the same. Neighbors chatting about the previous year’s festival and exclaiming over new products. Soft music was pumping from someone’s tent nearby.