She heard Florence’s soft laughter from the staircase. Her mother was already taking up too much space. Sadie could let her in, she knew. It would be an easy fall, soft as babka dough. But she only had one heartbreak left. And that would break her, and she would lose not just her magic but also more of herself in the process. She couldn’t trust herself. She couldn’t trust what else her magic, or her curse, might take from her.
She pushed up her sleeves and pulled her phone out of her pocket. There was a text from Raquel.
Holy shit. Is it true?
Yep.
She’s back. I can’t even believe it. How are you holding up?
Exactly as you’d imagine.
I’m meeting Jake at the school, to teach him the lighting, but want me to come over after?
Sadie’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted her best friend. But that felt like cheating. She had to be an adult, didn’t she?
Yes, but no. I need to work. Need some normalcy. See you for Gigi’s memorial dinner on Thursday though?
Of course. Love you.
Sadie finished her coffee, thinking she should probably take a shower and shave her legs, but it seemed too monumental a task. Instead, she got dressed in fleece-lined leggings and a slouchy sweater that slid off one shoulder. She focused on the movements that felt natural but foreign. Sliding rings on her fingers and fastening a crescent moon choker around her neck that Seth had given her on her eighteenth birthday. Swiping kohl eyeliner around her eyes and trying not to linger too long on the dark circles that shadowed them. It was the first time she’d truly gotten dressed since Gigi’s death, and something about it felt like a small kind of betrayal. She brushed it aside, knowing Gigi would have told her to “knock it off,” and instead, her eyes slid out the window to the garden below, thinking about Jake on his knees, planting, weeding, fixing her haven, until she had to swallow around the lump in her throat. She glanced toward the spoons that held a place of honor on her messy nightstand.
You shouldn’t want what’s not yours, she told herself. She’d always been so set on doing the right thing. Being a good person. On justice. But her head and heart weren’t matching up.
Draining the last sip of her now cold coffee, she slipped Gigi’s journal into her purse and then tried to sneak out the front door, doing her best to ignore the chatter filtering out from the kitchen. But the door wouldn’t budge.
“Stop it,” she hissed.
The doorknob rattled in defiance.
“Let me out.”
She could feel the grandfather clock watching.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned it. But it let out a gong that sounded like an alarm.
“If you don’t let me out right now, I’ll paint you a hideous orange and never grease your hinges again,” she whispered furiously.
It swung outward immediately just as the last gong of the grandfather clock died away. Sadie saw her mother from the kitchen entryway, the second before the door slammed shut. Her mouth had been open like she was going to call out to her, and Sadie tried to quash the guilt that stuck to her fingers like honey.
“You sure you wanna be here?” Gail asked from the front counter.
“I need to bake out some of this stress.” Sadie smiled and took a deep breath as she entered the kitchen and turned the oven on.
While it preheated, she took out Gigi’s journal, hoping that something inside would lead her to an answer. About what to do concerning the curse. About her mother. She’d even take guidance on what she should bake today. Anything, really.
She opened it gingerly with shaking fingers. She flipped through pages filled with recipes for food and spells, teas and poultices. Dried flowers were pressed between the pages, with their meaning and uses written in the margin. There were jotted memories and a few faded photos, and a newspaper clipping from the Poppy Meadows Crier announcing the grand opening of A Peach in Thyme. There was a random grocery list on a faded piece of notepaper.
vanilla yogurt
sourdough bread
salted butter
cherry cheese pies
jelly beans
bear claws
tomatoes
Diet Coke
bell peppers and onions
And there, on the last page, were two photos. One was black and white, of Gigi and her kids out in the front yard, the border faded to yellow and a crease in one corner. The other was of Seth, Sadie, and Gigi at the Country Christmas Festival the previous year. Sadie remembered it with a bloodred vividness because it had been the last photo they’d taken together before Seth had left.
Sadie reached the end of the journal, and a strange peace settled in her bones. It felt light and bright as starlight. She had nineteen days to save her brother. And in a flash, she was up and pulling down ingredients. Twice-blessed salt and fresh rosemary from the garden, finely chopped. She zested and squeezed the juice of lemons from Gigi’s magic lemon tree. It dribbled down her arm, and as she whirled to grab a dish towel, she ran smack dab into a solid chest.