His words are so curt, they rob me of my reply. My aunt’s nose wiggles like Mother’s when she’s trying to read the situation. She bends her gaze toward me, then chirps, “Good morning. We’re here to talk to your mother. We want to make things right for her.”
Court sweeps aside a purple blossom with his foot. Then, with a dark look at me, he pulls out his keys. “Fine.”
The house is bright, but quiet, and smells faintly of lemons.
Court heads down a hallway. “Mom!”
Aunt Bryony and I remain in the entryway with Melanie’s vases. Closing her eyes, my aunt points her nose to the ceiling and inhales.
Court returns down the hall, followed by his mom. Even in yoga pants and sandals, Alice walks carefully, with poise, just like one would expect from a Miss California. She rolled the sleeves of her Go Panthers! T-shirt past her freckled shoulders, and her smiling face is clean of makeup. “What a delightful surprise.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Alice. This is my aunt Bryony.”
“How lovely.” Alice squeezes Aunt Bryony’s hand. “I see the family resemblance.”
I hand the woman my stalk of hyacinth. “This is for you.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes squeeze shut as she buries her nose in the periwinkle blossoms. “How I do love your visits.”
I have to keep myself from making tracks out the door, down the hill, and maybe to Alaska.
She places the stalk into one of Melanie’s vases, this time, one of the earlier, clunkier pieces, then sweeps her hand toward her prairie chic living room. “Come, sit down.”
The tiled entryway spills into thick carpets. A ukulele rests on one of two overstuffed chairs. Court removes the ukulele and leans it against the coffee table.
Aunt Bryony and I each take a chair, and I set the cooler on the carpet. My chair engulfs me like a cloud, too fluffy, too suffocating. I scoot to the edge. Alice settles on a matching couchopposite my aunt and I, and Court sits beside her. He leans his chin on his hand and glares into the carpet.
“We’ll get right to the point,” says Aunt Bryony. “Mim?”
All three pairs of eyes draw to me, one encouraging, the other confused, and the last unforgiving. I squeeze the armrests and a trickle of sweat escapes the hatband of my bucket hat.
Alice turns her fine-boned face toward me.
“Alice, I very accidentally gave you an elixir meant for someone else. I am very, very sorry.” I try to keep my voice steady, but it trembles at the end. I keep my gaze trained on Alice.
“An elixir?” Alice’s mouth, still smiling, hasn’t caught up with her disbelief. “Is that one of your love potions?”
“Yes.” I let the news sink in. A gust of hot air blows on me as the heater turns on. It’s hot enough in here.
Slowly, Alice shakes her head, causing her ponytail to wag. “Who?”
I let her figure it out herself.
“Franklin.” The sight of her perfect nose turning red stabs me in the heart. I try not to throw myself in front of her and beg her forgiveness. Aunt Bryony’s chin bobs up and down.
Court curses. Alice grimaces at him, then she returns her gaze to me. “How did it happen?”
I can’t tell her about the espresso otherwise she’ll figure out it was meant for Ms. DiCarlo. “You touched something that had elixir on it.”
“But who was supposed to get it?”
Aunt Bryony gently adds, “We’re not at liberty to say.”
Alice presses her hand to her mouth. Then she shakes her head. “I don’t believe it. I’m sorry. I know how I feel and it can’t be because of some love potion. It’s just impossible.” Her knuckles go white as she interlaces her fingers. She looks to Court for help.
“Mom, it’s true.”
“You knew about this?”
