“Something wicked is on the wing. It’s trying to get in, and I aim to stop it. At least for a little while longer.”
Sadie wanted to swat the omen off the way you’d smack a flea, but it stuck to her skin like flypaper. She looked out the window, and as she watched, right at the tree line, a mist creeped along the ground, spreading like snow and sending an icy chill through Sadie’s heart.
Fog on a clear night meant someone was waiting for death.
The next morning, Sadie quietly opened Gigi’s door, peering in and staring at her sleeping form, tiny under the covers. One more day and the herbs would be ready. With a soft click that echoed through her heart, she closed the door and went for a run.
Sadie hated running. Her own form of punishment. But it was one of the only ways to get the anxiety out. Every strike of her foot against the pavement brought another worried thought.
Jake.
Gigi.
Seth.
She was sprinting without meaning to now.
My damn curse. All I want. Is a simple. Relationship.
All I want. Is. Love.
She let the thoughts flow through her, burn their way to the soles of her feet, where her shoes left black imprints on the sidewalk. Fold, fold, fold. Tuck them all away. She felt like Elsa. Control it. Conceal. Don’t feel.
The stitch in her side forced her to stop. Her calves cramping, she doubled over with her hands on her knees. Slowing to a jog, she reached the café where Gail was already serving customers. When Sadie walked in, she silently pointed to a tall glass of lemon and cucumber water.
“Saw you comin’ from down the street,” Gail said. “I never seen someone runnin’ with a scowl on their face.” She laughed, and despite everything, the sound made Sadie smile as she tied an apron around her waist.
“I’m just going to slip in the back and pull some things out to thaw.”
Now that she’d caught her breath, she let the comfort of the café close in around her. Bill was sitting by the window, with a cup of coffee and a pomegranate éclair.
“How’s your grandmother?” he asked the second he saw her.
“She’s well, Bill. Thank you.” She hated the dark circles under his eyes and the way his concern sat on his skin like a layer of dust.
“I was going to send flowers.” He cleared his throat. “But I thought she’d hate that. I know she doesn’t like people fussing.”
“She would absolutely hate it.” Sadie smiled. “And you should absolutely send them. Better yet, drop them off yourself. She likes sunflowers.”
His smile lit up his eyes.
The old ladies in their neon joggers were gossiping at a table in the middle. Lavender waved from a corner table, and Lace beckoned her over. As Sadie got closer, she saw that Lavender only had one earring in, and mismatched socks with her tan leather ankle boots. She was all soft curves and dreamy colors. Lace, meanwhile, was military precision. Her black bangs were ruler straight, and her Doc Martens polished to a high shine.
“Have you seen anything?” Lace asked her as Sadie got closer.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Lavender said to Sadie before frowning at her sister.
“Something is off, and I’m trying to figure out if it has to do with the Grand Revel or with”—she paused, eyes squinting at Sadie like she was trying to pierce through the veil—“whatever is going on with the Revelare family,” she finished.
“The Grand Revel isn’t for five months” Sadie said with surprise. And honestly, she had completely forgotten about the party that was set to take place at Cavendish Inn. Every seven years, the seven founding families of Poppy Meadows got together for a weeklong celebration, complete with a masquerade, tasks, riddles, and games.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Lavender frowned. “You’ve upset her. Leave her alone. She’s got enough going on.”
“We’re—I’m—I’ve got everything under control,” Sadie said. The sisters didn’t look convinced.
The tinkling chime over the door rang, and Sadie knew, instantly and without turning around, who had just walked in.
“Stars,” Lavender whispered with a knowing smile. “They’re in your eyes.”
Sadie narrowed said eyes just as Jake called her name. She turned toward him like a moth to a flame.
“I’m just grabbing some stuff for the guys at the station,” he said with a wary smile as his gaze darted between the three women.
“I recommend the honey lemon pound cake,” Sadie said, turning on her heel and heading toward the kitchen.
“Sade, wait,” he said, following her through the metal double doors.
“You can’t be in here!” She tried pushing him back through, but it was like shoving a boulder, and his skin, even through the fabric of his uniform shirt, burned her fingers. She felt her hair begin to curl and the apron strings pull tighter around her waist like it wanted to show off her figure. Traitors, all.
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Never been better,” she answered, giving up on getting him out of the kitchen and instead pulling the container of basil-lime sugar cookie dough out of the fridge and setting it on the counter in a blur of motion.
“Okay, well …” he said as she silently washed her hands and studiously ignored him.
She was back at the fridge, pulling out apricot lavender shortbread dough. Turning the ovens on, pulling down baking trays and cookie cutters and a rolling pin that looked like it could be used as a weapon. And all the while, his eyes tracked her. She felt them leaving trails of stardust all over her skin.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll just go.”
“Jake,” she said just as he reached for the doors, “thank you. I just—I need to do this. It clears my head.”
He nodded.
“I’ll be at the station if you need anything, okay?”
“Take the guys a box of the pomegranate éclairs too. On the house.”
Sadie spent the next few hours getting lost in the rhythm of rolling, cutting, and stirring. The slide of baking trays going into the oven and the clatter of mixing bowls echoed around the kitchen like children playing tag. Every so often she’d go out and refill coffees or ring someone up while Gail restocked the pastry case. Juliana Daunton came in, and despite herself, Sadie felt her mouth pull into a smile.
“Sadie, honey,” she said, striding toward the counter like a woman on a mission, “this is my second time in here today. Those mini lime–poppy seed Bundt cakes are better than sex,” she said, lowering her tenor voice to a whisper. “And trust me, I’ve had some good sex.” She winked, and Sadie couldn’t help the blush that stained her cheeks like cherry juice.
“Oh well, that’s …” Probably more info than I needed, Sadie thought. “… good,” she finished lamely.
“I mean it. The card said they’d give you a kick of energy, but my God, I feel like I could dance a dozen rumbas.” Juliana moved her feet in a little dance. “I’ve got more oomph than the kids today.” Ms. Daunton ran the town’s gymnastic program, and Sadie immediately felt responsible for whatever chaos went on in her classes today. “Now, you’re going to share the recipe with us, aren’t you, honey? It’s simply not fair to deprive us of this goodness.”
Sadie thought of the cookbook. Of Gigi telling her to find her fulfillment.
“I might,” Sadie said, “but you know—”
“Sadie,” a stern voice cut her off as the bell chimed over the front door, and Sara Watanabe steamrolled into the shop.
“I am out of bells. I have called and called, and you do not answer. I need bells, and I also need more jars of the infused honey.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Watanabe,” Sadie said, sighing internally. “Things have been a little crazy.”
“That is no excuse, young lady. You run a business? This is part of business. Now, tell me how your grandmother is doing.” Mrs. Watanabe’s voice was stern but Sadie took no offense, it was just the woman’s nature.
“Yes, how is that darling woman?” Ms. Daunton added.
Mrs. Watanabe glared at Ms. Daunton like she’d stolen her question at gunpoint.