When I asked the shopkeeper where these marvels come from, she only smiled. “Home,” she said, “is not one place. But you can take it with you.”
A companion for wanderers, wayfinders, and anyone who needs a quiet reminder of where they belong.
Chapter25
The Best Nest
The Mudpuddle Bookshop after closing hours was a different world. With the “Closed” sign flipped, curtains drawn, and overhead lights dimmed, the space transformed from a bustling hub to a sanctuary. Arthur had built a fire in the massive foyer fireplace, its golden glow casting long shadows across the laden shelves. The scent of Earl Grey tea mingled with woodsmoke and old books.
Maida arranged the final pillow in what she dubbed “the nest,” an array of plump cushions, soft blankets, and comfortable seating arranged in a half circle before the fireplace. She had been arranging and rearranging it restlessly since Will and Zani had come home.
“What do you think, Zani?” Maida gestured to the nest. “Is this okay? Or would you rather sit in the cafe?”
“This looks perfect,” Zani said. She closed her eyes, enjoying the homey sounds of soft music, a crackling fire, and rain pattering against the windowpanes. It was incredibly kind of Maida and Arthur to prepare this impromptu late night tea party for her and Will. The lights had gone out with the storm, but the candles on the mantle were just fine with Zani. She’d grown used to gentler lighting in the seventeenth century. But she hadn’t grown used to the drafts and the dampness. It was wonderful to be back, warm and safe with her friends.
“They’ve only been gone three days, Maida.” Arthur said, placing a tray of steaming teacups on the low table. “You’re acting like it’s been years.”
“Technically, ithasbeen years, you know that,” Maida replied, tucking a wild curl of silvery platinum hair behind her ear. “Plus, Zani was stranded for three months.Three months,Arthur.”
“Three months in Versailles, in 1689,” Arthur said, shaking his head slightly. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. What was it like?”
The bell above the shop door jingled as Will shouldered it open, arms laden with overstuffed bags of cheese and picnic supplies from the Squeaky Wheel.
“Minerva loaded me up. She said the midnight special came with a free bottle of one-hundred year old port.” Will reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of red wine with a fancy label. He set the bags and the bottle beside the tea. “Of course, some of us might not be used to such a recent vintage anymore.” He met Zani’s eye with a teasing glance.
There was a moment of stillness as the four friends regarded one another, the weight of their suddenly disparate timelines hanging between them like an overloaded clothesline.
Then Maida broke the spell, rushing forward to envelop Zani in a fierce hug. “Three days here, but it felt like three years,” she whispered. “I was so worried about you.”
“I wanted to call you every single day I was there,” Zani replied, her voice thick with unexpected emotion. Over Maida’s shoulder, Arthur discreetly passed her a handkerchief.
Will stood awkwardly, staring into the fire until Arthur clasped his shoulder. “Good to have you back, Porter.”
“Good to be back,” Will said, eyes never leaving Zani. There was something new in his gaze, Zani noted. A protectiveness, perhaps, or something deeper. It warmed her from within, even without the port.
She wasn’t the only one who noticed. Observing them, Arthur arched a curious eyebrow.
“You both look exhausted,” Maida said, finally releasing Zani. “Come, sit. We’ve got all the provisions and a cozy fire, and I imagine you two both have quite a tale to tell.”
They settled into the nest of cushions, the warmth of the flames washing over them. Zani accepted her teacup gratefully, wrapping her fingers around it as if she’d forgotten what her favorite tea tasted like. She knew they were all waiting for her to speak, but she wasn’t sure where to start.
“So,” Arthur began after a few more moments of comfortable silence. “Versailles?”
Will and Zani exchanged a look.
“It wasn’t just Versailles on this trip,” Will said. “We made another stop too, at Burnside’s request.”
He looked from Maida to Zani. She could guess what he was thinking. He was wondering just how they would tell Maida about meeting her mother. Larkspur had passed away not long after Maida was born, and Maida had been raised with little information about her controversial parent.
“You ported to a second stop?” Maida paused mid sip of tea. She held her cup a few inches from her mouth and blew on it. “Where to? Or should I say when to?”
“We went to Baltimore, of all places, in the 1970s. Just for a couple of hours. But it was eventful.” Zani took a sip of tea. “I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, though. Maybe we should start at the beginning?”
“So you already know I suspected Zani was in Versailles because of Flora Lathrop’s butterfly charm,” Will explained, his fingers fidgeting with the fringe of the pillow he was leaning on. “It was so specific, so... unusual. But it took me a moment to connect it with Zani’s charm.”
“And all this time we thought the logo was based on a family heirloom,” Maida mused.
“And so it was,” Will continued. “The charm Zani gave to Flora Lathrop in 1689 became that heirloom.”
