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“I’m not sure yet,” I admit. “But I’ll figure something out.” I still have savings left over, and I could always sell the house back in San Francisco. I’d lost my camera in the mayhem of the gala, but maybe I could buy a new one and pursue freelance photography, like I’ve always wanted. “Is it alright if I stay here for a while?”

Tears shimmer in her eyes as a hesitant smile unfurls on her lips. She reaches across the table, her weathered hand covering mine. The sun casts a honey glow over our skin—mine smooth, hers lined with age, yet both the same hue.

“Of course, Petra. You can stay as long as you want.”

Together, we walk down the road. Jakov’s home isn’t far, but we still manage to garner the stare of an elderly man smoking on his front porch. It doesn’t bother me so much anymore. Not with Karmela beside me.

She leads me around a bend, where Luka waits beside a metal gate. At the sight of him, my insides flutter with a feeling I can’t name. Something warm and big and frightening. We haven’t spoken much since the gala, between his work and recovering from the fire, but my mind keeps going back to what he told me: If there’s any chance you didn’t mean what you said about us . . . then I’m yours.

“Thank you for coming,” Karmela says as we approach.

“No problem.” His gaze flicks to me for a brief second before shifting back to the house.

Jakov’s home is modest, a small one-story house with a front yard full of dead grass and wilting foliage. A clothesline that is half torn down. Shutters in desperate need of repainting. I glance nervously at Karmela, but she seems unfazed, walking confidently up to the faded yellow front door. It opens as we draw near, revealing Jakov in shorts and a white tank top. Despite the connection we made over Magdalena’s diary, he offers only a scowl as he allows us inside.

“It needs work,” he tells us, leading us from room to room. He isn’t exaggerating. Paint peels from the walls, some light switches don’t work, and the faint smell of cigarettes clings to the air. While Luka studies the damage, discussing repair possibilities with Karmela, I hang back, not wanting to get in their way. Eventually, I wander into the yard behind the house. It’s a decent size at least, with a few trees providing shade. Enough room for Rex to play, assuming he does such a thing.

After a short while, Karmela joins me outside. “What do you think?” she asks.

“It’s, um . . . cozy,” I offer. With some decorating, it could be charming, but I’m not sure how long the repairs will take. “Do you like it?”

She surveys the greenery with a composed look. “It is . . . different. But it’s a good size. Lavender House was too big. Difficult to keep clean.”

I nod, relieved she’s not too discouraged. “The yard is nice.”

“Yes. But it needs more flowers.”

“Lavender?” I suggest.

Karmela lets out a curt laugh. “I think I’ve had enough of lavender for a while.” She thinks a moment, then turns to me with a smile. “How about daffodils? Šime used to always bring me those, because yellow is my favorite color.”

I smile back, tucking this detail away. There’s still so much to learn about my grandmother; the thought invigorates me. “That sounds great.”

Someone clears their throat behind us. We both glance back to see Luka.

“Can I speak to Petra?” he asks.

Karmela gives me a penetrating look before heading inside. “Hey,” I murmur as he moves beside me, trying to sound nonchalant.

The corner of Luka’s lips quirks as he nods down at my feet. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks.” I bounce lightly, glancing down at my bulky tennis shoes. Not my style, but comfortable. “One of the nuns gave them to me.”

“They suit you.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes me. “What’s up?”

The smirk drops from Luka’s face. “I would like to apologize.”

“For what?” I blurt, surprised.

His eyes are solemn as they meet mine. “For not taking the curse seriously. I should have listened to you from the start when you told me to stay away. Maybe if I hadn’t gone to the gala, you and Karmela would still have somewhere to live.”

I reach out, taking his hand. “It’s not your fault the house burned down. Besides, I think we needed the fresh start.”

I swallow, bracing myself to go on.

“I want to apologize too, actually. You were right about me lying to push you away before the gala. What we had wasn’t just a fling to me. I only said that because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”