He hadn’t used it since they’d lost his grandmother and his father had packed away every memory of her that he could. Memories flooded through him: tea parties just because they could, sharing a cup of tea while they baked together, the way she hadn’t scolded when he’d chipped one of them.
A sip of the tea brought back even more memories. He’d kept his grandmother’s favorite stocked since her death—one of the few things his father hadn’t taken—but drinking it out of the teacup brought images of laughter and love he’d long since forced himself to forget.
The memories had been locked away for so many years, but Abigail had come into his tavern and changed everything, making his life brighter and happier.
How could he repay her for that?
He couldn’t.
He watched in amusement as Beastie bounded in and went straight to Abigail, rubbing against her skirts with her giant head.
“Apparently I’m useless now,” he said, as his dog threw herself all over Abigail.
“It’s just because I feed her,” Abigail said with a grin. “You have to go outside first,” she told the dog, who trotted over to the door immediately when she heard the word “outside.”
Abigail opened the door for her and closed it, shaking her head affectionately as she returned to her cup of tea.
“That dog is going to be the death of me one of these days,” she said.
“She loves you, though,” Roan said as he drained the rest of the tea in one swallow. Was it a child-sized teacup, or was he just that much bigger than the last time he’d had it?
“I was thinking today I can tackle the garden beds that need to be repaired,” he said. “Unless you have something else that needs to be done first.”
Abigail shook her head. “Unless you want to make a swinging door for Beastie, that’s a good task for today. I was planning on mending and adjusting your grandmother’s dress this afternoon, but if you want, I could comehelp you outside instead. It might be nice to get out in the sunshine.”
“I would be glad to have you help,” Roan said, his voice thick. He would, which was odd—normally he preferred working on his own. “And if you have time this afternoon, I’d love to look at the budget with you a little more closely and see what else we can cut back on.”
Not that he actually wanted to do that…but he needed to do it, and having her there would make it more bearable.
“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “I’ll just put a big pot of soup on this morning so I don’t have to think about it later.”
“And tonight we can give it to them again.” And hopefully they would wake up soon.
She nodded. “It’s interesting that we’ve been awake this whole time in the dream world. I don’t know what that means for the curse.”
“Maybe it means that you and I are the ones who are dreaming,” Roan said. “Are we dreaming these days in between? Is this whole part—is this whole thing—a dream?”
“I don’t know,” Abigail admitted. “I know more about magic than most, but this is not like the magic I know.”
Roan crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her, waiting for her to say more. She looked down at her feet, her hands fidgeting in her apron.
“Perhaps we could discuss this while working on the garden beds?” she asked quietly. “I would prefer to have something to do with my hands while we talk.”
Roan nodded. “I’ll get my hammer.”
The sun beat down on them as Roan and Abigail knelt next to one of the raised garden beds, the warmth welcome after the slight chill in the air. Roan’s grandfather had built the garden beds for his grandmother, and ever since, they had slowly been deteriorating.
Fortunately, Roan had gotten a pile of wood from one of his patrons as payment for a tab he couldn’t settle in coin. He’d been intending to use it to fix the garden beds, but he’d never had time. All his waking hours were spent serving customers or doing the necessary work to run the tavern.
“If we’re the ones in a dream,” he said to Abigail as they began to pry an old board off, “do you think all the work we’redoing will stick?”
Abigail grimaced. “I hope so. It would be quite the disappointment to wake up to find it all still needing to be done.”
Roan let out a coarse laugh. “It would be a cruel trick, is what it would be.”
Abigail was quiet for a moment. “I’ve probably enjoyed this more than I ought to,” she admitted quietly. “It’s been nice to catch up on these jobs without having to worry about customers, and even sleeping on the floor hasn’t been as bad as it could have been. I could do without all the stress, though. If it wasn’t for that, I would say we should have the sorcerer send us back in time once a year so we can catch up on everything.”
“Is that what happened then?” Roan asked.
