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“Don’t worry, they always do this,” she said. “It’s like a friendly rivalry they have, to see whose remedies are the best. Of course both of them would rather die than admit that the other’s recipes were effective at all, so no one ever wins.”
A moment later, Xiomara re-entered and shoved a big, crumpled paper bag into my hands. “You tell her that’s a real remedy in there, and she’s lucky to have it because I don’t give that to just anyone. Not that she’ll appreciate it, of course. She never does.”
The bag was warm and smelled delicious.
“I packed up the rest of the food for you, too. If her remedies are any indication of what comes out of her kitchen, you’re all going to need it,” she insisted.
I doubted that assumption, based on the cookies I’d already eaten from Rhi’s kitchen, but I didn’t dare say so out loud. So instead I said, “How much for lunch?”
“Little Vesper, that’s your homecoming meal. Don’t you insult me by trying to pay for it!” Xiomara said, and then, for just a moment, her expression softened and there seemed to be a crack in her no-nonsense exterior. “Welcome home, child.”
“Thanks,” I said, surprised to feel the tightness of sudden emotion in my throat. There was something about the way Xiomara said “home.” It was like a counterpoint to the feeling that had already begun to sprout in me at the sight of Lightkeep Cottage: the feeling that I belonged to this place, or maybe that it belonged to me, somehow.
“Well, I guess we’ll see you around, Vesper,” Zale said as I stood up.
“We’ll all be at Asteria’s funeral,” Eva added.
“Really?” I blinked. “All of you?”
Nova gave a tight smile. “Oh, yes. All of Sedgwick Cove, in fact. It’s the mourning event of the year.”
Eva gave Nova a withering look before smiling brightly at me again. “Like myabuelasaid, welcome home.”
“Thanks. Right. Well, see you then, I guess,” I said. The words “looking forward to it” had nearly escaped my mouth, and I barely managed to swallow them before I humiliated myself. No normal person says they’re looking forward to seeing someone at a damned funeral.
Then again, I thought to myself as I walked back out into the humid June afternoon, with every moment I spent in Sedgwick Cove, I was starting to feel more and more like there was very little about me—or this town, for that matter—that qualified as normal.
7
Itook my time riding back to Lightkeep Cottage, anxiety swirling in the pit of my stomach like a tide pool on the beach below. My aunt Persephone would have no choice but to be in the same room as my mother for the reading of the will, and I was already sick with dread at the thought. I would rather the floor swallow me up than have to witness a confrontation between the estranged sisters. It would almost have been worth whatever trinket my grandmother had left me to simply get back on the bike and go eat more of Xiomara’s delicious cooking—almost. I was propelling myself back to the house on the sheer force of curiosity.
I parked Rhi’s bicycle where I’d first seen it, leaning up against the side of the house. As the handlebars turned to lean against the peeling paint, the little pouch swung forward and caught my eye. For reasons I really couldn’t explain, I untied it and slipped it into my pocket. Asteria had said it was for luck. Well, I thought, as the pit of dread mounted in my stomach, I could use a little luck right about now. Then I stomped up the steps a little louder than was strictly necessary, just to forewarn them of my arrival. There was no car in the driveway other than ours, but there was a two-seater bicycle attached to a small purple rickshaw with a basket of flowers on the front, and a fringed white roof shading the cracked leather seat. I stared at it for a moment in wonder before pushing open the door.
“Hello?” I called tentatively, into what I could already sense was an uncomfortable silence. I nervously checked my watch, but I wasn’t late.
“We’re in the living room, honey,” my mom called back.
I stepped out of my shoes, leaving them lined up neatly by the door alongside my mother’s, and padded reluctantly toward the living room. Aunt Rhi met me in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel she had tucked into her apron. She smelled of warm sugar.
“Were you able to deliver my package to Xiomara?” she asked.
“Yeah, and… um, she told me to give you a message.”
Rhi raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Let’s have it, then.”
“Um, okay, but don’t get mad, all right? I’m just the messenger.” I took a deep breath. “She said, ‘what does your aunt expect me to do with this useless muck, fertilize my garden with it?’ and then told me to give you a ‘real remedy.’” And I held out the paper bag to Rhi, watching her face anxiously.
Far from being offended, Rhi threw back her head and laughed hoarsely, and then plucked the bag from my hands. “Lovely,” she said, and then sniffed. “She sent food as well?”
“Yeah, there’s someropa viejain there, andbuñuelos, too.”
Rhi smacked her lips and then jerked her head over her shoulder. “I’ll get this into the refrigerator. Go on into the living room, everyone’s here.”
“Everyone?” I asked, but she was already halfway down the back hallway, so I swallowed my question and walked toward the living room, stopping dead when I reached the threshold.
There, as I’d expected, were my mother and Aunt Persi, Persi standing as far from my mother as she could possibly have managed within the confines of the room. In front of the fireplace, however, were three women I had never seen before. I tried not to stare at them, but it was impossible because everything about them was practically screaming to be stared at.
The women on the right and the left were identical down to the last eyelash. I guessed they were in their early seventies. They had heads of wild gray curls, and bright, inquisitive blue eyes which they fixed unblinkingly on me the moment I entered the room. They sat like matched bookends on either side of undoubtedly the oldest woman I’d ever seen. Oh, who was I kidding—the oldest womananyonehad ever seen.
