“You are very welcome,” Saffron cuts in before the words leave my mouth. “Lark told me you loved a good cheese omelet.” She raises a white brow that reminds me significantly of my gram.
“I do.” On my way to the table, I snatch up a cheese Danish and sit across from Lark, who already cleared her plate. It’s licked clean, if I’m not mistaken.
“Mrs. Larson said the town is magical.” Lark’s chocolate eyes sparkle with interest that surprises me. My daughter isn’t one to fall prey to anything whimsical—that’s my role—so the fact that she believes this strange woman throws me off a bit.
“Magical?” I dive into my omelet, nearly moaning at how delicious it is as Saffron sits across from me and beside Lark. Her knowing blue eyes take me in as I shovel eggs into my mouth.
“Of course Silent Springs is magical,” Saffron states with a challenge in her tone.
I point my fork at her. “What kind of magic are we talking about here? Because there are multiple options to choose from, so I’m going to need you to be specific. ALord of the Ringskind of magical? AHarry Potterkind of magical? Or are we talking Disney Princesses?”
“Nothing so dramatic.” Saffron laughs.
“You should realize my mom is dramatic. She has zero chill.” Lark shoves a slice of my toast into her mouth to avoid my glare.
“Oh, I caught onto that already, honey.” Saffron pats Lark’s hand in a grandmotherly gesture that rips at my chest.
It’s a simple touch really, one that any gram would give her grandchild, but Lark never got the option to experience that kind of comfort. Neither from my parents nor her father’s parents. She never had that experience, and having Saffron give it to her tears my heart in two. I don’t know Saffron, I don’t know her motives, and for the last twelve years, I’ve had to not only be Lark’s mother, but her father and grandparent also.
It’s always been me, and for some obnoxious reason, I only want it ever to be me. Logically, I know that isn’t fair to Lark, but when I’ve been her everything for so long, it’s a hard pill to swallow to allow anyone else to be something to her—including a matronly stranger.
I cough into my hand, looking away as I squeeze my mug of coffee in a death grip, the ceramic threatening to break. “I’m only dramatic on Saturdays, and as it’s a Tuesday, you are both very wrong.” I shiver as the coffee warms my blood and exhale, looking over at Saffron, who once more has that all-knowing indifference about her.
“Well, I have no doubt in my mind that once you walk downtown, you will fall in love with the area,” Saffron states, sounding so sure of herself, I almost fall into the trap. “Now, it’sjust a short walk downtown, but if you would like to drive, you are more than welcome to use my car. I know you are eager to get to Arlo’s and find out just how much those repairs are going to cost you.”
“Or how long,” I mutter.
“Don’t worry about that, you can stay here at the Cicada B&B for as long as you need, free of charge.”
“What’s the catch?” I set my coffee down, readying myself for interrogation mode, because nothing in this world is ever free, and I know she must be up to something.
“No catch.” She smiles, and while it looks genuine, I’m not buying it.
“I get to stay in my own room?” Lark lights up.
“Kid, you’ve always had your own room.”
“Not one that overlooks a cemetery.” She has a point there.
“I saw you two were in bed by the time we got back. Traveling will do that to you.” Saffron nods before gesturing toward my plate. “Eat up, you’ll need your energy today.”
“That’s right, we have to register me for school!” Lark bounces in her seat.
“Lark.” I use my very best mom voice, but it makes her squint at me. “We won’t be here that long, little bird.”
Unfazed, she just shrugs. “I refuse to allow this detour to interfere with my education no matter how long.”
“It could be days,” I reply, exasperated at raising a mini Einstein.
“Yes, and in that time, my education could lapse. I’m supposed to start a whole new grade. I can’t skip a grade only to find myself behind.”
“What grade are you starting?” Saffron squeezes Lark’s hand in comfort.
“Eighth!”
“Perfect.” Saffron smiles at her with all the sincerity in the world, and for some reason, it makes me jealous. “Arlo’s sister Seraphina teaches the eighth grade, and I’m sure she would love to meet you. If you head into town, be sure to stop by. I’ll go ahead and call her and let her know you’ll swing in at some point today.”
Presumptuous. I wrinkle my face up, feeling annoyed with this woman, who is doing nothing but being nice to us. Clearly, I do not run on logic.
