Page 10 of Curse the Flame

“Not at the moment, Willow. That’s not what I meant, either.”

Oh. Good. “I’m sorry, but then what do you mean?”

“It’s just something you told me when my wife and I last visited. I’ve been thinking about it, and I might have a solution for you.”

CHAPTER 2

IN THE MIRROR

WILLOW

For a moment, I’m confused.

The last time I saw Mr. Z and his Elisabeth was about two weeks ago. They brought a basket of food, extra sheets, and a second potted cactus that had me sputtering apologetically when I had to admit I killed the first one. I killed the second one, too, thinking that it was safe on the kitchen windowsill. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t, and I hope the Zs aren’t on the way over now because I don’t want to inevitably explain what happened to Elisabeth’s second gift in the time between visits.

During the last one, I sat with the gorgeous brunette with a pair of eyes like diamonds, watching her watch Mr. Z as he inspected a loose cabinet hinge in the kitchen. Us girls—because Elisabeth, despite her snooty attitude, looks to be a couple of years younger than me—sipped iced tea at the small kitchen table while he checked out the state of the apartment. In his charming way, Mr. Z asked about my plans for the summer and after, and I mentioned that I was still torn on whether I was heading back to New York for September.

Was that all I mentioned?

“You told us that you missed being outside. That you were hoping to find yourself in some sort of adventure this summer. And that’s when I asked you if you believe in magic.”

That’s right. I remember now. I thought it was such a strange segue. I was hoping to go on a hike or a mountain getaway, something where it could just be me by myself in the outdoors for a couple of days, and though I was confessing that to Elisabeth, Mr. Z was the one who asked me if I believe in magic, of all things.

I giggled and said sure because, well, I do. All kinds of magic, too. I believe in wishes and dreams, and everything that has Daphne rolling her eyes and calling me childish, but I like to think that my kids have just kept me young at heart.

Mr. Z nodded, then returned his attention to tightening the screw on the hinge. That was the end of that conversation, and I have no idea what that has to do with anything until my landlord says, “What about fate, Willow? Do you believe in fate?”

Do I?

“Yeah. I guess.”

Do I believe that my parents were meant to develop the same sickness and die within weeks of each other? I don’t want to. But do I believe that things happen for a reason regardless, and now I’m standing on the precipice of making a decision that will change my life forever?

That I’m at the crossroads, and I need to go ahead and choose?

I think of that email that’s gone unanswered, and the job listings that I bookmarked.

Is that fate?

I don’t know, but Mr. Z’s tone is chiding as he says, “Don’t guess, my girl. Be sure.”

I open my mouth, flounder a bit, and pause when I hear Elisabeth’s throaty voice on the other side of the phone.

“Husband. Don’t tease her. We need someone to come watch the grounds for us while we go away for the week. She wants to commune with nature. It’s a simple arrangement. I don’t see why you must complicate everything.”

“That’s just my nature,” Mr. Z says, his voice softening as he addresses his wife.

I can’t help myself. “I’m still here, in case you’re wondering.”

“Of course, Willow, dear. And my beautiful bride is right. What would you say about a camping trip?”

My ears prick up. Mr. Z and his wife own this apartment, but it’s not their only property. They live in the more secluded part of the state, on an estate with a large mansion and rolling grounds. Mr. Z showed it to me on his phone, boasting about the flowers in the garden that his wife tends to. I remember being jealous of its beauty, and the amount of land they owned.

He continues, “We have a rustic cabin on our grounds for those who need to find a little peace sometimes. If you’d do us the favor of making sure the estate is unbothered while my wife and I go on a little trip, you can stay as long as you like. I’ll even come and pick you up to bring you here so you don’t get lost, and when you’re ready to return to the condo, I’ll arrange for your ride home.”

If my cousin was given such an offer, she’d say it was suspicious. That it was too good to be true. She’d decline for multiple reasons, and not only because Daphne hates the outdoors.

But I don’t. And unlike my ball-busting cousin, I like to think people are intrinsically good, and that Mr. Z’s offer to let me camp in his cabin is a fair trade for a little off-hands housesitting.