After the incident in Ramona, in which she was caught off guard by a past portal, Mia kept a shoulder bag with her at all times. It contained her journal and an assortment of colored pads and pens. Hannah called it the Emergency Paradox Prevention Kit.
A rolled-up note slowly emerged from the breach. Mia cupped her hands to catch it, then experienced an unpleasant new twitch, as if a shady stranger had violated her personal space. Suddenly the note combusted in angry flames.
Mia blinked in bewilderment as smoldering black flakes snowed down on her palms.
“What . . . ? David, what just happened?”
“Not a clue. You ever see that before?”
“No.”
She wiped the ash from her hands, trying hard to shake the feeling of sabotage. “God. I hope the message wasn’t important.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was just a warning about me and my sweeping generalizations.”
Mia fought a grin. “I already knew about that.”
“Right. No big loss then.”
Amanda and Hannah emerged from the grocery store. They made a clumsy dash through the rain and loaded their shopping bags into the Seeker. David lost his humor and sighed with resignation.
“Guess we’re going home.”
—
Mia had found the lake house in a booklet of vacation rentals. The photos could have been ripped straight from her fantasies, from the cedar walls to the stone hearth fireplace to the windows and skylights and patios galore. Better yet, it was buffered by nature in every direction. The nearest human neighbor was half a mile away.
With uncharacteristic fervor, she convinced the others that it was a perfect place to hide and heal, a welcome change from their usual digs. She was right. From the moment the landlord left the Silvers to themselves, the ones who weren’t David felt a gushing love for the place. They’d spent the last two months in a state of flux—as guests of the world, guests of the physicists, guests of the hotels and motels of Altamerica. Now they had a house all their own. Those who craved a slice of domestic tranquility suddenly found one on a platter.
For the Great Sisters Given, serenity lay at the bottom of a cooking pot. Though neither one considered herself a culinary goddess, Amanda and Hannah took fervent glee in playing house chef. They spent hours each day twirling around the kitchen, passing spoons and spices between each other as multiple mixtures bubbled on burners.
While they worked, they smiled and giggled. When they disagreed, they disagreed kindly. Their knockdown brawl on the hotel balcony filled them with a desperate need to be perfect to each other. Soon their forced rapport snapped into place and they found themselves speaking intimately for the first time in years. Amanda finally shared the details of her broken marriage with Derek, his vicious last words. Hannah revealed the mystery of Jury Curado, from her strange ghostly vision to Evan’s cruel hints of love undone.
The only topics they dodged were their current thorny entanglements. Hannah swore that everything was fine with Theo, though the tension between the ex-lovers was clear for everyone to see. Amanda claimed she wasn’t worried by Zack’s grim new state of being, a ceaseless black mood that filled the house like smog and only intensified in her presence.
“It’s just pain,” she insisted. “Once his ribs heal, he’ll become his old self again.”
Hannah wasn’t so sure. For the first four days in Nemeth, Zack carried all the textbook signs of depression. He stopped shaving. He rarely spoke. He spent most of his time alone, either sketching in his tiny bedroom or staring out at the lake from a patio lounger.
On their third night in Nemeth, Zack finally opened up about his fateful phone call. He shared everything he learned about Evan’s alternate history with the Silvers, plus the stunning but questionable revelations about the Pelletiers.
Though everyone sensed Zack was withholding something, only David succeeded in drawing it out of him. Late Wednesday night, the boy invaded Zack’s room and pestered him until he divulged the fate of his brother. Zack relayed the news with matter-of-fact aloofness, never once looking up from his sketchbook.
David leaned against the dresser and gazed out at the rain. “As with all of Evan’s information—”
“I know.”
“I’m just saying you should take it with a grain of salt.”
“You’re the one who told me I shouldn’t get my hopes up about Josh.”
“I did. I still believe you shouldn’t. The odds suggest he died on our world like everyone else.”
Zack took dark pleasure in David’s tactless candor. It made a nice contrast to the delicate tiptoe everyone else walked around him.
“I don’t know how you always manage to stay so rational. Doesn’t this stuff ever get to you?”
“Of course it does,” David attested. “Why do you think I’m so eager to get to New York? I’m convinced that Peter Pendergen can provide us with all the shelter, safety, and crucial information he promised us. You used to feel the same way.”
Zack put down his pencil and looked at him. Evan’s harsh words about Peter were never far from his thoughts.
“Well then maybe it’s my turn to tell you not to get your hopes up.”