Page 85 of Memories of the Lost

“Go get her and bring her to supper. It’ll just be us—Levi and me and whatever cousins can come.”

“I will.” He stood. Turned back and hugged her, feeling so grateful to be with people who loved him. Him, Liam, who had been a boy and would one day be old. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Sage let herself into the shop late in the day. They’d closed early, when the foot traffic died with the weather and there was no point in standing around. Sage had wanted to get home and roast vegetables for the tart her mother had asked her to make for lunch tomorrow.

She’d done that task, and found herself still restless. Paula was holed up in her studio, working in a fever on a new clutch of songs. That was how she always worked, in big bursts of wild productivity, then long stretches of fallow time. She’d promised to emerge for lunch tomorrow with Liam, which was the important thing.

Left to her own devices, the ingredients for the tart ready for assembling in the morning, Sage walked in the gloomy day to the shop. A few figures wove around the edges, shapes but no details, like a painting, and it gave her a little shiver.

The shop was quiet, only Sage and the ghosts from the centuries. She’d thought of a selection of chocolates she wanted to bring to lunch, and now set about collecting them. She’d already assembled a box of the fruit-based chocolates her mother liked, and the cherry cordials, which were a particular specialty Sage had created just for her mother’s delight. They’d eaten Christmas cordials for years, and Sage had come up with a few variations: cherry and black pepper, cherry and ginger, and her own favorite, cherry and saffron.

Those had already been gathered, along with the caramel treats Paula loved. Sage had no way of knowing what Liam would like, but her gut led her to citrus, lime, and coconut, and a strange little banana and bitter chocolate that people either loved or hated.

Hmm. Not quite finished. She let her hand hover over various flavors. Nothing over the usual favorites, pistachio, vanilla, and raspberry. There was a little more energy when she neared the chai and white chocolate, stronger still when she crossed the turmeric and ginger, and then her best invention so far: a concoction of rosemary and sage ganache with pecans enrobed in white chocolate colored blue and topped with glitter. It was unusual and delicious, and she was quite proud of it. She placed them in a box with the ones for Liam, and then let herself tune in to the subtle energies of the chocolates themselves. What else wanted to go with her?

The blood orange caramels, a few traditional truffles dusted with cocoa powder.

Anything else? She moved her hand in the air above the rows, hearing the leaping pleasure of candied violets and the deep, sophisticated voice of Mexican chili and dark chocolate.

The baby danced. Sage nestled the chocolates into a beautiful box, feeling a kind of exquisite joy that could sometimes steal upon her in her sobriety, a feeling she’d never understood or known to exist before, except maybe long ago in the days before her sister was lost to them.

She allowed herself to feel it, all of it—the baby, the creation of her hands, the cool air of the shop. Everything, so beautiful.

She didn’t pray, but she sent out a thank-you. For now. This moment. Her life.

Today.

CHAPTER FORTY

A thick fog seeped into town, and Tillie feared she would get completely lost. She headed down the hill, thinking she’d gone uphill for most of the way, and when the material of the road turned from tarmac to cobblestone, she let go of a little breath. At least she was in the right area. She followed narrow sidewalks along the fronts of shops, mostly closed. A man in a red coat stood out across the street, and she thought she recognized a shop window she’d passed earlier.

But the road dead-ended against a wall, and she turned around, walked down the other side of the street, stopping when she got to what she thought was the high road, and then headed—

Instead of winging it, she opened the map on her phone, centered herself, and looked for the Green King. Two blocks over. She crossed back across the narrow street and followed the line to her hotel.

A ghostly shape emerged from the fog, and Tillie saw a cat with thick striped fur and a long tail. It mewed at her, and she bent to pet him, but he ran toward an alley. “I was only going to be nice to you,” she said. He paused and looked over his shoulder, then disappeared into a hole she couldn’t see.

In one of the stories Tillie had loved as a child, she would have followed the cat and discovered a mystery, but at the moment, real life had mysteries enough without adding another.

As she straightened, a shimmer of gold paint on a window caught her eye. Words were painted on the window in an understated goldscript.Rosemary’s Chocolates.A painted cat, looking serene and clever, sat beside the words.

Tillie felt dizzy. “That cat,” she said aloud, and touched it on the glass. Blue eyes and tan fur and a long, striped tail.

In the distance, she heard someone call,“Rosemary! Where are you?”

She switched apps and shot a photo of the cat.This is the cat I keep painting, she texted to Liam.

A sharp pain arrowed through her temple, and she shook her head.Get back to the hotel, have a drink of water, maybe a little nap.

As she came around the corner, a figure appeared out of the gloom. A tall, fit man with shining hair. He smiled as he saw her, and Tillie couldn’t help launching herself in his direction, flinging her arms around his neck, feeling the dampness of his jacket, the drips of water from his hair, his solid, safe self.

“Oh my God, I’m glad to see you,” she said against his shoulder. His arms were tight around her waist, and then he was kissing her, and whatever might have been wrong with the world was okay.

Her room was at the top of the hotel, a small suite with a gigantic claw-foot tub and windows that overlooked the now very rainy street.

She drew Liam down to the sofa under the window. “Let’s call for some tea, and you can tell me everything.” She realized that he wore only a coat over street clothes. “Where are your things?”