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“Okay, then,” Art said, grinning mischievously. “If that’s how the biscuit crumbles.”

Groaning again, I tossed a wadded-up napkin at him without sitting up. “What was I thinking, opening a cookie shop? I knew it wasn’t sustainable.”

“It’ll be okay, you’ll see,” Art said, rubbing circles on my back. “It won’t always be this busy, and you’ll find a way to streamline the process. Hasn’t that always been the plan?”

I grimaced. “I guess.”

“Right then, thistle-and-chamomile tea with just a touch of jasmine,” Fiona said, setting our biggest teapot on the table as Peggy handed out cups. “The thistle fer restoration, the chamomile tae soothe our nerves, and the jasmine for a wee pick-me-up. Perfect after a long day.”

As its scent washed over me, the fragrant tea started working its magic before she even poured the first cup, and I took in a deep, appreciative breath.

“That smells amazing, Fiona. Thank you,” I said, sitting up, already feeling a little better.

For a few minutes, we sipped our tea in silence, enjoying the subtle flavors and their effects on our frazzled nerves.

It had been a great day in so many ways, but the wild roller coaster of emotions had taken its toll, and I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around starting all over again on Monday.

“Whose idea was it to hold the grand opening on a Saturday so we’d have Sunday off to recover? I owe that person a hearty pat on the back,” I said, putting down my empty cup.

Art grinned at me over his. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that might have been my brilliant girlfriend’s idea.”

“Oh, really? You’ll have to thank her for me when you see her next,” I teased.

He laughed, pulling me closer for a kiss, knocking his nearly empty teacup over in the process, spilling what was left of the tea.

“I’m such a klutz!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “I’m sorry!”

I reached for his cup and froze. Waves of fear and heartache crashed over me, stealing my ability to breathe and move. Despite the terror wrapping itself around me, I somehow managed to shake my head no. Then I gripped the edge of the table and did what I could to suck in a slow breath.

Breathe, sweetheart, my grandmother crooned, suddenly appearing across the table from me. It’s just a vision. It’s not real. You’re okay. Everything is okay.

I latched on to her words like a lifeline and looked up at her through the shimmer of the tears filling my eyes. She smiled encouragingly at me.

You hold the power here, she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

If I’d been able, I would have rolled my eyes at her. How often had she heard my aunts and mom say that to me when I was a child? Just as they had then, her words could have been in a foreign language for all that they served me now.

I know you don’t believe me. But it’s true. You are stronger than you know, and you can control this vision. You just need to find your anchor.

This endless maelstrom of emotions and swirling darkness was unlike any of the visions I’d had before. Those had been clear enough for me to instantly make sense of them. This was… chaos. Darkness with flashes of gold that pierced my heart, sucked into the darkness too fast for me to understand why. Heart-wrenching, terrifying chaos that only grew more unbearable when my eyes fell on Art’s tipped-over teacup. There was no anchor to be found in there; even if there had been, I wouldn’t have been able to move fast enough to catch it as it whirled past me.

I snapped my eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath as I did the next best thing that came to mind. Fighting the pull of the swirling darkness and overwhelming sadness, I fought to remember the vision I’d had the day Art had first shared a cup of tea with me. The sun playing on the water, the four shadows dancing on the sand, and the overwhelming sense that everything was exactly as it should be. At the time, it had felt like a slap in the face. Now, it felt like a tiny foothold that might keep me from getting sucked into darkness and despair.

The familiar sensation of Art’s hand coming to rest on my lower back gave me something more concrete to latch on to, and I threw myself at the feeling like a dying woman clinging to life. Bit by bit as I focused all my energy on its warmth and pressure, the darkness receded, until finally, I could breathe again.

“Everything okay?” Art whispered softly to me. “You checked out for a minute there.”

“Just a minute?” I felt like I’d been battling the darkness for hours, if not days.

Art flashed me a worried frown. “Yeah, just a moment or two. Are you okay? Do you want to head upstairs?”

The tenderness in his eyes forced the last of the vision’s cold tendrils to relinquish their hold on me as I melted into its warmth. Lifting a shaky hand, I caressed his cheek. “I’m f…” I started to say and caught myself. “I’m okay. A little dizzy. It’s been a long day.” To ease the worry in his eyes, I smiled and whispered, “I saw a happy family of four dancing on the sand at the beach on a warm, sunny day.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Peggy narrowing her eyes at me, but I didn’t acknowledge the silent question in them. Whatever I’d just seen wasn’t something I would ever share with anyone. I was locking it away deep inside me and throwing away the key. If I had anything to say about it, that was one future that would never come to pass.

TWENTY-EIGHT

“That was quite the day. How are you feeling about everything?” Art asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to pull me closer.