Freida rolled her eyes. "Whatever. We're going to turn The Blueberry House into the East Coast bed and breakfast forwitchy women to flock to every fall. Between your honey wine and your magical way with tarot. You wait and see."
Tilly had a feeling she was right.
There’s a magic in The Crescent Inn that made people immediately at ease. Anyone who walked up the brick path carrying anxiety in their pockets and wrapped around fingers lost sight of that anxiety once they entered the antique purple door.
She'd done that.
And she was thankful for that. She was thankful for the women in her life who dared her not to question herself, Freida now included.
Even Jen had come around to liking the night manager when she confessed at the celebration that she never once used sugar-free sweetener in Fae's teas, though adamantly requested, and when dry cleaning had been demanded for her expensive clothing, they never made their way to Ollie's Dry Cleaners on Main Street, but found themselves washed with the tablecloths and rags.
Jen had hugged her and found her another cup of cider.
She understood the grandmother clock now, a second language. Crystal began guiding her with tarot, when a deck wrapped in a red satin ribbon was left on the inn's island. It was beautiful, ivory with crimson pictures, a rook in every card. And there was a note from Mrs. Ling.
Soft hands, strong mind,
and a magic to help others root themselves.
That was the first of two surprising packages she received that day. The second came with the mailman and a thick manila envelope. Portia settled on the island, having come through the window in the kitchen that Judy had made to flip just for the bird to come and go as she pleased.
She pulled out a thick stack of papers with legal jargon she didn't understand was. She bent over the island drinking spiced cider when her eyes caught on Brent's name, making her heart trip.
What...
There was a sum of money, not small, at the bottom.
And then a small note with straight, simple penmanship fell to the island.
He owed you. I had my lawyer look into his hiding assets from you in your divorce and put legal pressure on him.
-Fae
Simple, to the point, nothing close to poetic, just like Fae. She ran her fingers over the note and closed her eyes.
Sorrow. Trapped hope.
She wondered if Fae would ever unwrap herself. She hoped so.
"The fool," Portia crowed.
She frowned, but then the grandmother clock chimed and she smiled.
Unlimited possibilities, new beginnings. She split the tarot deck, and there in her hand was the red fool, a crow on his shoulder, and smile on his face.
So, after work that night, she wrapped herself in a fall jacket and boots and went to find a man who did the same.
And now she could recognize this feeling of homecoming with a man who came into her life unplanned, unhurried, like he had meant to find her.
"Are you here to say goodbye, Tilly?"
His low voice drew her eyes open, and she turned to look up up up into his beautiful eyes, one half of his face hidden by shadow and the other half clothed in moonlight.
"Is that what you want?"
"I already told you what I want. I'm not changin' my answer, Tilly."
She remembered his written words back to her, on thick parchment with a navy wax seal that Portia dropped in her lap. His words had made her smile and blush, and more than curious.
