She grinned hugely, heat moving up her neck.See? You’re completely memorable.
“I did, actually. I think I want some of those little rosettes, as long as they don’t need any sort of extra –”
“Nope. They want to sit in the corner by the window and meditate on the weather. A perfect choice.”
Harper trailed after the woman once the dish of succulents was acquired from the shelf, following her back to the register. As the pretty beetlewoman scanned a barcode at the bottom of the dish, one of her sisters began prepping the packaging. They were dressed identically, all in black, and Harper took note of their silk-blend cardigans, fitted pencil skirts, and satin blouses — all perfectly coordinated, cardigan matching the skirt without a hint of poor color coordination.These are your people.
“I didn’t realize there were three of you,” she laughed awkwardly.
“Oh, yes! The Viol,” the beetle woman gestured to the sisters still standing in the aisle, “The violet,” to herself, “And the vine,” to the sister stuffing a small square box with tissue paper. “This is the customer I mentioned earlier this summer, who knows our poem.”
Harper smiled.Your moment to shine and show the world what a gothic little nerd you really are. “Lo, death has reared himself a throne, in a strange city lying alone.”
She was unprepared for the sisters to take up the verse, speaking in tandem, as if in a chant:
“Far down, within the dim West,”
“Where the good —”
“And the bad —”
“And the worst —”
“And the best —”
“Have gone to their eternal rest.”
Harper let out a low sound of wonder. “Wow. And I thoughtIwas an edge lord.”
The three sisters laughed, and the strange moment was broken.
“What made you choose that poem specifically? It doesn’t exactly bring to mind plants and flowers.” She pulled out her credit card as the two sisters behind the register shrugged in unison.
“I’m not sure, really. Just always resonated with us. You know, we grew up here. I always used to think that poem was specifically about Cambric Creek.”
“With Jack in his shining golden tower, looking down on the town,” the second sister laughed.
“But now,” the first sister went on, ignoring the second, “I think of it more as a warning of what can happen to a place if we’re corrupted by greed and selfishness and stop caring for each other. We’ve heard whispers of quite a bit of that going around lately. But Poe was part gnomish, so who can even guess.”
“I think it’s a reflection on human nature,” Harper murmured, “’No swellings tell that winds may be, Upon some far-off happier sea.’” She thought of that still, glass-like sea swaying within her. She could let it drown her, and sink . . . or she could swim, and pull herself from the waters. She glanced up, cheeks heating. “I-I don’t meanhumannature, specifically, but like —”
“I know what you mean,” the first sister assured her with a small smile. “There are some things that transcend species, after all. Well, I am very glad that you came back. Remember — this is an introvert. She does not want to go for drinks three times a week, go to the beach, sit out in the sun, or have a party with her other friends. She wants to sit by the window and read and be left alone.”
“Sounds like the dream,” Harper laughed. “That’s goals. Thank you. If she makes it to her third month birthday with no setbacks, maybe I’ll get her a friend to sit and ignore.”
“That’s the way to do it,” the sister standing in the aisle laughed. “The three of us will be sitting in the same room all night long on our phones, texting each other, not saying a word.”
A sound of rippling, identical laughter followed her out the door.
“I know just where I’m going to put you,” she murmured, thinking of the little pedestal table she’d rescued from someone’s curb the night before trash pickup. “But first, we have a stop to make.”
“Balance in all things” was a challenge they had taken to heart.
After that night in her cottage, they settled into a new routine. She would time her visits to Azathé later in the day, which just a few months earlier would have meant an excuse to stay in bed until the middle of the afternoon. Now, though, she had to get up and make her tea. Ladybug had been specific in her instructions, noting the set intervals in which she was meant to take the herbal concoctions, and Harper wasn’t about to impede her own progress by slipping into old habits.
Besides, she found that shelikedbeing up and productive. Her recent discoveries at home took up most of her morning and early afternoon, and by the time the two p.m. chimes reverberated from the restored grandfather clock that now stood in the basement, she would be eager to set off for the tearoom. She would arrive shortly before closing, settling in a quiet corner with a tarot deck and her tea, waiting for them to join her.
Once the door was locked after the final patron and the velvet curtains pulled across the front windows, they would melt from the shadows, assuming a physical form to sit beside her.
