“But they know where Eddie is, don’t they? He’s settled and checks in regularly,” Tessa said, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand. One of the mint leaves nearest Paul bruised at the edges, causing Tessa’s eyes to widen. “This is a way for them to be close to you.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed on the red heart-shaped pushpin stuck into Mystic Water. “What is that one?” He pulled the pin from the map.
“Where your heart is?” Tessa said, feeling stupid.
Paul’s irritation intensified. “They never give up.” His voice sounded petulant, and the mint shivered. He wrenched open a window in the living room and threw the red pushpin out the window.
“Umm, that’s littering,” she mumbled.
Paul tossed a withering, blue-eyed glance at her.
She didn’t understand his annoyance. “Why are you angry with your parents for wanting to see you or wanting to map where you’ve been?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not angry. What they want for my life isn’t whatIwant for my life.”
“A home? Or companionship, maybe marriage? You aren’t married, are you?”
He studied her, and then he closed his eyes briefly before exhaling. “No, I’m not married, and contrary to conventional expectations, I can be single without a permanent home and still be happy. I like my life.”
A breeze crept through the window, dispersing Paul’s unhappiness as though it were fog. Tessa reached out and rubbed her fingers gently across the mint leaves.
“I brought Huck Finn home,” he said, attempting to further release his discontent.
The koi nibbled on lettuce leaves. “I see that.”
“It’s temporary. Mom says she knows a couple who will probably take him because they have a landscaped yard with a koi pond.”
Tessa nodded. She was happy to find a habitat for Huck Finn, but it didn’t escape her that the fish was getting a home before she was.
Paul pointed toward the plant. “What’s with that mint?”
“It’s from your mama’s garden. She says her plants are hardier than others—” Tessa’s mouth dried like herbs in the summer sun. She swallowed. “There’s something special about that garden,” she mumbled, looking at the empty glass sitting on the coffee table. Was Crazy Kate right? Did the land affect everything growing in its soil?
In a daze, Tessa walked to the couch and sat.The land. Two and a half years before, a bakery had stood in this same spot. Tessa thought of the sparkling golden sugar contained within a hand-carved box given to Anna by her grandmother Beatrice O’Brien. Tessa remembered the way the magical sugar had singed her fingers when she grabbed handfuls and tossed it into a mixture of dough. She’d tossed in her hopes for the perfect partner too. Her heart throbbed as the memory flared to life, at all she’d lost that night. The fire. The smoke. The unsightly creation burning in the bakery, and the enchanted sugar lost to the flames, turning to ash like everything around it.
What if buried beneath the ash and soot and crumbling bricks of Cecilia’s garden lay remnants of glittering golden sugar, feeding the plants like fertilizer, creating mutations more powerful than the originals?
Paul walked toward her. “Are you okay?” She glanced up at him, surprised to see sincere concern on his face. “I’m sorry I got angry.”
“You said you weren’t angry.”
Paul shrugged. “I say a lot of things.” His cell phone rang. “Hey, Dad . . . I’m upstairs . . . Sure, what time? . . . Give me half an hour.” He walked past her, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a jug of orange juice. “Dad says there’s an Italian place they want to take me to for a late lunch.” He removed a cup from the cabinet.
Tessa blinked away the image of twinkling sugar filling the plants with magic. “Milo’s?”
“How’d you know?”
Tessa shrugged. “It’s their favorite. They go there a few times a week. If you stick around, they’ll probably take you more than once.”
Paul pressed his lips together, creating a thin, downturned line. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’m trying to arrange travel for another assignment. In the Cook Islands.” He tilted the glass and drank the juice.
Tessa walked to the wall map. She pointed to a cluster of islands northeast of New Zealand. “That’s a long way from here.” She thought of sun-soaked, white-sand beaches; ocean breezes tangling her hair; and sipping fruity cocktails beneath a cabana with a roof made from palm fronds. “What’s the story?”
“Supposedly a Spanish ship sunk in between the northern and southern islands. Local legend tells of a treasure hidden in one of the lagoons on Mauke.”
She sighed. “Just the wordlagoonmakes me want to go there.”
“You should.”
