“There used to be a gardener and a cook and a housekeeper, an actual staff,” Jack said. “But then it became this downward spiral: guests don’t come, which means we can’t afford staff, which means guests don’t come, which means…You get it. I think I was ten when the cook left, and she was the last to go.”
Calisa didn’t know what to ask that wouldn’t make it worse. His father had been gone for three years? “Your dad…Is there any…” She wished she hadn’t started that sentence; she didn’t want to ask whether there was hope if there was none.
“He’ll find his way back,” Jack said, not looking at her. Turning his back to the inn, he fixed his gaze on the pine trees in the distance. Calisa shifted to look with him. The wind whistled through the tops of the trees, swaying them. It made it look as if the mountains were breathing. Above, the sky was streaked with clouds. If she moved her hand just a few inches, she’d be touching his. She didn’t move. She waited for him to speak again. At last, he continued. “He can’t get here directly anymore, and we can’t reach him. So he has to find another nexus and then world-hop until he can find a different door that connects. But the Faraway Inn needs to stay in business so he has a place to return to.”
Three years! There had to be a way to help him find his way home faster. She thought of all the other portals she’d seen on the hills around the market. “Do you know where the portal led? If we went through a different one—”
“No,” Jack said.
She flinched. “I’m sorry.” The last thing she wanted to do was make things worse for him. It had to hurt to have to explain any of this to a near stranger. She stood silently for a moment, wondering if she should take his hand, watching the pine trees become still, then sway again. A hawk circled high above. Just because she had questions didn’t mean he had to answer them.This isn’t about me anymore.“We can talk about something else, if you want. How about cake? What’s your favorite kind? Chocolate? Carrot? Angel food?”
Jack didn’t even seem to hear her. “I tried to find him. For months. I stopped doing anything around the inn, and Isearched. Went through every portal I could find. Eventually, Auntie Zee noticed. And that’s when she told me that the portal he’d used had closed and wouldn’t reopen—I can’t find him, no matter how many portals I go through, no matter how hard I look; he has to find me. After that, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything for a while. A long while.”
Calisa laid her hand on his arm lightly, ready to remove it if he didn’t want to be touched. “You aren’t doing it alone anymore. I’m here to help, however I can.” She’d already restored the sitting room and reestablished afternoon tea. If they could finish fixing up the gardens…paint the inn…would that be enough to help keep the B&B in business? At least long enough for Jack’s father to come back? “After tea and cake, we’ll continue restoring the gardens. Make them look idyllic. The porch already looks better without the brambles.” She strode toward the kitchen and was halfway there before she realized that Jack wasn’t following her. She halted.
He was crouched on the ground, his face in his hands. The statue was beside him with one of her hands near his back, an inch above him, as if she wanted to comfort him but couldn’t quite touch him.
“Jack? Are you okay?”
He took a breath and his shoulders shuddered. He then stood up—the statue remained bent behind him, motionless, comforting the empty air. “Yes. Sorry. It’s just…Sorry.” He trotted toward her, and she saw his eyes were overbright, like he’d just cried. “It’s been just me for a long time.”
Calisa felt a knot of anger curl in her stomach.Someoneshould have helped him before now.He shouldn’t have had to shoulder all of this alone. He was only a year older than she was, if that. He should be having fun with his friends, applying to college, beginning his future. She wondered if he had any friends, if he had time for anyone. She doubted it. He probably hadn’t let anyone see how bad things had gotten for him. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll fix everything. We’ll make this place fit for royalty again. Guests will flock back.”
She held out her hand, and he took it.
“Your dad will have a place to come home to,” Calisa promised.
—
As she finished up the icing on the only slightly lopsided and accidentally pink cake, Calisa ordered Jack, “Get plates, forks, and napkins, and meet me in the sitting room.”
He jumped into action while she carried the cake out of the kitchen.
Over her shoulder, she called, “Also, a cake knife.”
In the sitting room, Calisa set the cake on the table with the mosaic of pebbles. Her concoction looked lumpy and amateurish on the elegant table, but it was incontrovertibly cake. She supposed if that was all you could say about it, that was fine. She’d do better on her second attempt.If I get to make a second attempt.
“Want to do the honors?” she asked Jack, offering him the knife handle.
“First slice is yours. You made it.”
She shook her head. “If it’s terrible, I don’t want to be the one to eat it first.”
He grinned. “So I’m your poison tester?”
“Yep. IthinkI used sugar instead of salt.” When his smile wavered, she added, “I’m kidding. Probably.” God, he was adorable, and it said a lot abouthowadorable he was that she was still noticing that on the day she’d discovered that the inn was a magical nexus.
He cut through the cake and angled the knife for a wide slice. “We once had a guest who would only eat sugar. Like—literally. She’d pour sugar in water, on top of toast, over her burgers and fries—” He cut himself off. “Kendra! Um, cake?”
“I do hope that I am not spoken of when I’m not in residence,” Kendra said crisply. “There is an expectation of privacy that I value in this establishment.”
Jack looked adorably panicked again. He wore that expression often. “Nope. Did I say guest? I meant a friend from school.”
He had absolutely said “guest,” plus Calisa knew he’d been homeschooled, but their elegant guest let that pass. “You have baked a cake,” Kendra observed.
“It’s vanilla with raspberry jam filling,” Calisa offered. “Not quite Victoria sponge, but close—it’s my first attempt.”
Jack hurriedly cut a slice for her.
