Iris remained still, her face expressionless. ‘I’ve told you previously,’ she said, her voice clipped. ‘I’ve had many clients over the years. Far too many for me to recall individually.’
‘But you label your jars with people’s names,’ Greta said, recalling Edgar’s label. ‘How long do you keep the different blends? Did Millie’s vanishing have anything to do with your coffee?’
Iris’s cheek twitched. She looked annoyed. ‘I don’t know her name,’ she reiterated.
Greta suppressed a sigh, still sensing she was holding something back. ‘That’s a shame,’ she said tightly. ‘I wanted to return the pearls to their rightful owner . . .’
Iris twitched an eyebrow. ‘You’re not keeping them?’
‘Something tells me they’re important to Millie.’
A flicker of something, perhaps approval, crossed Iris’s face. She studied Greta for a moment, then set down her cup. ‘You said you needed my help?’
Greta didn’t feel ashamed to say yes. Admitting she needed help felt like moving forward rather than standing still. ‘If you can’t tell me about Millie, Ineedyou to help me.’
Iris sat back in her seat, her gimlet stare giving way to something milder. ‘How?’ she asked.
Greta screwed her eyes shut so she could speak freely. ‘I feel like I’ve lost my way, and I have no one to turn to,’ she said. ‘Jim has always been there for me, but we’re growing ever further apart. My agent, Nora, isn’t the most understanding person, and only Edgar, a man I met online, kind of understands what I’m going through. He’s been to your coffee shop, drank your perfect blend, and says he saw his deceased wife . . . but I hardly know him. And . . .’ she glanced warily at Iris ‘. . . he warned me about getting hooked. I feel very alone in a veryuniquesituation.
‘I was so sure what I wanted—a happy home life, my family, a great career. The perfect blend,’ she continued, clasping her hands together. ‘But now, I don’t really know who I am anymore. I thought I wanted my past back, but now I wanta future’Iris’s gaze remained steady. ‘What did you learn from your first three wishes?’
Greta mulled over the question. ‘My first wish was about escape and rediscovering my self-confidence. The second was all about my reconnecting with my family, and my third wish was about recognition and stardom. There’s been other things I discovered in Mapleville, too, like meeting Millie and glimpsing a life that feels calm and complete. I feel like I’m caught between two versions of my life and don’t know where I belong.
‘I’ve learned that I don’t want to use my wishes to look good, or for my family to be all polished, or to be famous. This time, my wish would be . . . different.’
Iris sipped her coffee. ‘Different? How?’
Greta shrugged. ‘What does it matter? You’ve forbidden me from drinking my perfect blend again until New Year. I know that asking you for another wish is pointless.’ She set her jaw hard. ‘I shouldn’t have added Starbright to the brew, and I shouldn’t have disobeyed your rules. I really am sorry.’
Iris studied Greta intently. ‘You misused the coffee. Broke the rules. And my deadline still stands,’ she said. ‘I cannot give you your usual blend today.’
Greta flopped her head forward in resignation. She had expected this.
‘However . . .’ Iris’s eyes began to shine with something new. ‘You said you want somethingdifferent,and that’s what I can offer you.’
‘A different coffee?’ Greta’s chin jerked up.
Iris shook her head. ‘The same coffee, but updated. Enhanced.’
Greta felt a crawling sensation on her skin, like ants were walking over it. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Your first three visits offered a temporary, immersive experience. My enhanced blend would allow you stay in Mapleville . . . for good.’
Greta blinked, trying to take this in. ‘What, like forever?’
‘Yes.’
Greta swallowed. Scenes from Mapleville flashed in her mind—her beautiful home, laughter-filled breakfasts with Jim and Lottie, picnics, romantic dates, and friendly nods from the townsfolk. A warm glow spread through her chest. No stress, no uncertainty, no casting rejections. The versions of Jim and Lottie who looked at her with affection rather than irritation. But would they only be a glossy echo of her family?
She gave a shaky laugh. ‘That sounds extremely tempting. There must be a catch, right?’
Iris knitted her fingers together, her joints like knots in rope. ‘I thought you might ask me that.’ Her eyes pierced into Greta’s. ‘If you drink the coffee and return to Mapleville, you’ll be given a choice—to stay there or not. If you decide to stay, you’ll leave your old life behind. You’ll be gone from it, as if you never were.’
‘Gone?’ Greta gasped.‘What?Wouldn’t I just stay in the booth, like before? Where would I even go?’
She thought of Leonard’s quiet dignity and the burden of loss he must carry. If Millie had truly disappeared into Mapleville, what wounds had she left behind? Greta’s voice trembled. ‘Would Jim and Lottie still remember me?’
‘So many questions.’ Iris let out a small tut. ‘This coffee would be a different blend. People always want to understand the mechanics, as if this were a train journey they can map out with timetables. But some choices don’t live in the realm of logic.
