On Thursday morning, the day of Gigi’s memorial dawned bright and cold. There were sixteen days left until the full moon, and they were no closer to an answer. Sadie had consulted Lavender and Lace, who had no advice but offered to help in any way they could. Seth had reached out to the Tovah family, who had their own unique brand of magic when it came to elixirs, and the Delvauxs, who were partial to spells. He refused to speak with Calliope, but at any rate, none of them had ever seen a curse quite like theirs.
“Just set it aside for today, okay?” Seth had said before he left to pick up Gigi’s ashes. “Look at me, Sadie.” She did. “I’m trying to be cool, calm, and collected here, but this is scaring the shit out of me too, okay? But I need you here for this.” He gestured around them. “Today is for Gigi. Her memorial. Family dinner. Whatever the hell you want to call it. We’re going to do this, and we’re going to do it together. When you feel like breaking, just look at me.”
“And then what?”
“You’ll just know. The way we always do, okay? Twin shit. You’ll look at me, and you’ll know I’m breaking too, and that you’re not in this alone.”
Sadie nodded through her tears and, absurd as it was, agreed to ignore the countdown on his life just for the night.
After that, Seth left with Florence to pick up the ashes while Anne and Sage cleaned. Anne tried to tell the girl she didn’t have to help, but there was an eagerness in the child’s eyes that was hard to deny. As though cleaning a home was so foreign it became fun.
Ever since the river had flooded—no, ever since the grandfather clock had chimed its warning—things had gone wrong. And it felt like nothing would ever be right again. But then the doorbell rang, and little pieces of Sadie’s heart began to stitch back together.
“Uncle Steven,” Sadie half shouted, throwing her arms around his six-foot-tall frame.
“Hi, sweetie,” he said, a smile in his voice, but there were tears in his eyes. Behind him, the porch was a sea of cousins. Anne and Steven’s three kids were there, and they had their own children with them: Liam and Lina who were almost teenagers, and Marie who was just a little strawberry-haired thing. There was Kay’s daughter, tall and ethereally beautiful, with soulless jet-black hair and vegan-leather platform boots, holding the hand of her son, who had to be around Sage’s age.
Hugs were passed around and the doorframe seemed to expand, wanting to let everyone in at once. The grandfather clock gonged, wanting in on the commotion, and the door had barely closed when someone honked a horn. More cousins filed in as everyone shared tears, and “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown” was a constant refrain.
Happier than she thought she’d ever be capable of being again, Sadie couldn’t help but laugh when Aunt Anne had Uncle Steven whistle through his teeth to get everyone’s attention.
“Time for dinner prep,” she said loudly. “All kids, outside. And that includes the menfolk! Sadie, get Gigi’s instructions. John, when Gail gets here, help her carry the groceries in.”
There was silence for a moment before everyone scrambled, and then the women marched to the kitchen like they were going to battle.
Aunt Anne soaked tomatoes and mozzarella in basil-infused olive oil and added a squeeze of lemon juice. Ayana baked three loaves of rosemary bread, and Sadie turned one of them into croutons and crostinis, a safe enough task with Sage’s help. The message was clear in every dish. Love, remembrance without bitterness or sorrow, a celebration of life and coming together. Welcome. Acceptance. Sadie settled into the rhythm. The clatter and clanking of dishes and spoons scraping pots, all the smells dancing into a marriage of sweet and spice. Fingers dipped into sauces, and ingredients were passed wordlessly when they were needed.
Kay and Tava came knocking not long after, with flowers and hugs and more tears. The kitchen grew noisier, and Sadie opened the windows to carry away some of the racket, the breeze blowing through feeling more like spring than fall. Uncle Brian and Aunt Suzy arrived, and so did Raquel.
“Where is she?” her best friend whispered as she squeezed her tight.
“With Seth. Getting the ashes.”
What a strange sentence, she thought.
“What’s she like?” Raquel demanded.
Sadie thought how to answer and couldn’t come up with one.
“You’ll have to wait and see, I guess.”
“You trollop.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Wow. Truly. How do you come up with such clever comebacks?”