“What?”
“It’ll be five minutes before Simran approaches you.”
Veda pouts. “I rue the day I challenged her to change.”
Peter laughs. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.”
They sit in companionable silence, watching the crowd until Peter speaks again. “I know you have your own greenhouse, but you’re always welcome at Weston’s. My storage is still yours.”
She bumps him with her shoulder. “I know, and trust me, I’ll take you up on that. How’s the new person working out?” Veda left Weston in September to start at Khadijah’s clinic, where she’s been knocking the dust off her skills in preparation for restarting her internship in March.
“Well enough, I think. She’s got big shoes to fill ... Right on time. Incoming.”
With that, he has the nerve to leave her alone to face Simran. For a fleeting moment, Veda considers locking herself inside Hiram’s office to avoid the encounter, but for the past few months, things have been somewhat amiable.
“A pleasure to see you as always, Miss Thorne,” Simran says with impeccable poise.
“Likewise, for the most part,” Veda replies with the barest hint of a smile. “You can call me Veda.”
Simran raises a brow. “Duly noted, Miss Thorne. I will see you three for our quarterly dinner tomorrow.”
It’s the first of its kind, and Hiram’s idea. A trial run of reconciliation, so to speak.
“You will,” Veda confirms.
“Thank you for helping us get to this point with him.”
“I did nothing. It was all Hiram. He’ll try as long as you do.”
“I have been.”
Veda knows. Simran’s been donating to the Seer clinic. The donations are returned each time, just as Khadijah continues to decline Simran’s invitations for tea. But in both respects, Simran remains persistent, continuing to unlearn her bias. Perhaps one day things will change, but she isn’t waiting. She’s doing what Veda once told Hiram: showing them who she is ... or rather, who she wants to become. Watching Simran walk around, greeting everyone the same, is still strange to see, but it’s another step toward progress.
After the party ends, they clean up, activate the talisman, and head home. It’s near sunset when the urge to walk the forest strikes. The decision to search for Nénuphar today is unconscious, but Hiram drifts in the direction he remembers as Veda and Antaris follow. The sun slips lower while they search the forest. North to south. East to west. They don’t find it.
Dusk marks the end of their search, when they finally accept that the healing waters won’t appear this time. They gather around Antaris, each one hugging him gently as his shoulders dip.
“Nénuphar is only for those whoneedhealing,” Veda explains. “I don’t think we need it anymore.”
Still a little fractured individually, together they are whole.
Veda takes both their hands, and they all walk home in the soft dark, moonlight gently rising behind them. Home greets them with open arms, but there’s something else.
A familiar, healing olive tree.
Veda turns to Hiram, who smiles. “Figured it was only fitting that it would be the first resident. Peter had a few of the staff deliver it while we were at the party.”
She stares at the tree for so long that she doesn’t realize Hiram and Antaris left and the former returns with hot chocolate—spiked for the two of them, sweet and simple for Antaris. They’re armed with blankets when they step outside to savor the crisp night. Antaris will join them again shortly. The sky is clear, the moon is new, and the stars, unhindered, blaze across the sky, shining in full splendor. They settle on the dormant grass. Veda leans against Hiram as she catches him gazing skyward.
“I thought you didn’t care much for the stars.”
“I’ve been told I should look at them more often to gain perspective.”
Veda smiles in the face of his smirk. “Now, who told you to do such a thing?”
“Someone extremely aggravating, and bossy, and—”
