“Cake is a start,” Kendra said, piercing another bite of the chocolate cake with raspberry jam. “But is this what Auntie Zee wishes? She has run this inn for many, many decades. She deserves her own rest.”
Calisa hadn’t considered that. It was possible that her great-aunt wanted to retire, sell the inn, and move to Florida, where she’d befriend a few alligators and flamingos orwhatever retirees did in Florida. Maybe Calisa would have believed that if Auntie Zee had seemed happier about the idea. She hadn’t, though. Surely she didn’t want her inn to die with a whimper. Wouldn’t it be better to leave it thriving? Sell it to another innkeeper, one who could keep the portals open. Not just let it wither away. This place was Auntie Zee’s life’s work.
Besides, there was also Jack and his father to think of.
And me.She’d just discovered this place and its magic and portals and firebird and adorable friendly flying lizard. To lose it all after only a summer…There was still so much she hadn’t seen or learned. She still didn’t know who or what the statue was. Mulligan hadn’t restored Zef. Melidor hadn’t planted her seedlings. As for Kendra…“Doyouthink it’s time for AuntieZee to close the inn?” Calisa asked her.
“Of course not. I value this place greatly. Every year it’s been a restorative retreat. The one place I can go where no one makes any demands on me. I can simplybe.”
All right. That was at least a start. “Do you think Auntie Zee wants it to close?”
“I do not. But it is a heavy responsibility, and time and age come for us all. I understand the weight of it. Perhaps she cannot see a way to carry it any longer.”
“If she could, though…what would you fix first?”
“The stream behind the inn,” Kendra said without any hesitation. “It used to be a lovely spot to visit. Now the weeds have choked the walk.”
“The library,” Mulligan answered. “I used to spend hoursin that room. Frankly, I was disappointed to discover how unwelcoming it had become.”
Kendra agreed.
They continued on, listing the flaws they’d noticed. Breakfast had been irregular until Calisa arrived. Tea, nonexistent. There were no planned picnics in the gardens by the burbling brook like there had been in past summers. Instead the gardens were mostly impassable, current progress aside, and the brook was buried beneath a thick mat of green. They missed sitting on the porch in the evenings with a view of the fireflies, a nice drink, and pleasant music. Auntie Zee used to plan excursions into town and provide disguises for those who needed them—that amenity was gone. Every Saturday, a traveling musician from a different realm used to come to entertain them in the library. Oh, and then there were the holiday feasts….
Fetching a piece of paper and a pen from the lobby desk, Calisa made a list.
Some of it was beyond her. She wasn’t a musician and didn’t know any. She had no idea how to plan a trip into town—or even where town was or how to get there—beyond calling a too-expensive Uber. But she could do picnics in the garden. She and Jack could restore the stream and the porch. The library could be cleaned. Tea was already restored, but she could ensure it continued, perhaps with a variety of cakes.
Maybe if she did all the doable tasks, the guests would return, Auntie Zee would change her mind and see it wasn’t time yet, and the inn would be saved. Jack’s father would continue to have a home to return to. The guests would return. Kendracould keep her refuge, Mulligan could keep his retreat, and Melidor could continue to find peace.
Auntie Zee might be done trying, but I’ve barely begun.
And as soon as Auntie Zee got back, Calisa would make that crystal clear.
Chapter Sixteen
Auntie Zee wasn’t back by dinnertime. And Calisa witnessed firsthand exactly how much her great-aunt did behind the scenes at The Faraway Inn.
It was Mulligan who came into the kitchen with a request first.
Calisa was perched on a stool, studying a new cake recipe in the cookbook and wondering what she could substitute for milk if Auntie Zee didn’t get all the supplies, and Jack was scowling at the innards of a malfunctioning bathroom fan—he had the pieces splayed out on the butcher block island.
“I hate to intrude on your reverie,” Mulligan said, “but is it known when Auntie Zee will return with my cocoa? There’s a new variation I wish to try tonight, for Zef.”
“She should be back soon,” Jack said.
Calisa glanced at the clock. It was close to eight, and the wooden bird on the clockface was preening its wooden feathers.They thumped together lightly, in rhythm with the minute hand. “We’ll let you know as soon as she’s back,” she promised.
Mulligan executed a tight bow and retreated.
Quietly, Jack said, “She said she’d be back by now.”
“Is that…Should we be worried?”
“Probably not. It’s Auntie Zee.” He looked worried.
She’d noticed that Jack had two standard expressions: deeply concerned and delighted at the world. She imagined that both were an outgrowth of living in a magical inn. Or maybe it was just Jack’s personality. He cared a lot—about the inn, his dad, Auntie Zee, the guests—and he wasn’t afraid to show it. Earnest, that’s what he was. It was nice. But it did make clear when he actually was worried.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Calisa said.
