Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

So much for making chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes. Instead, Charlotte and the girls drag me to Books, Bites, and Bedlam, Sapphire Springs’ annual library fundraiser, put on by—you guessed it—the Sinsters. Jess begged off, claiming it was “too peoply.” Which I get; just about everyone in Sapphire Springs turns out for this.

Normally, BBB is one of my favorite events of the year, the highlight of the beginning of fall. I love everything about it: the sweet aroma of caramel apples; the Ferris wheel, from the top of which there’s a great view of the mountains that surround Sapphire Springs; the carousel, with its hand-painted horses and cheerful tunes; and the way the whole town comes out to support a good cause. As a kid, when things were really crappy, I’d come here and just wander around, absorbing the way everyone seemed so happy. It always felt like magic to me. But today, with the events of the past forty-eight hours hanging over my head, I’m having a tough time.

I Googled that symbol, but came up with absolutely nothing. Did I hallucinate it? I’m sure I didn’t. But then what was it? And what could it possibly mean?

“Auntie Rune!” Emma tugs at my hand as we step beneath the arbor that marks the entrance to High Valley Park. “Look, there’s a petting zoo. They have llamas. I heard they spit. Is that true? Has a llama ever spit at you?”

I force a smile. It’s not too hard, given that Emma and Sophie are my two favorite people in the world. “Nope,” I say, stroking her silky black hair. While Emma’s the mirror image of Noah Yoon, the girls’ bio dad and one of Charlotte and Jess’s good friends, Sophie looks like Charlotte: heart-shaped face, freckles, and brown eyes that can transform from sunny to stormy in an instant. That’s where the similarities end, though. Where Sophie’s content to go with the flow, Emma’s a planner, like her mother. And right now, she’s busy scheduling every moment of our day.

“So, first we’re gonna get cotton candy,” she says, ticking the list off on her fingers. “Then we can ride the carousel, right, Mama? You said. And then we’ll be hungry, but since there are food trucks, we can all choose what we want.” This comment is directed at Sophie, a notoriously picky eater. “ I’m gonna have tacos, plus apple cider with real cinnamon sticks. Then we can go to the petting zoo. And then—hey! Where are you going?”

Sophie, who as per usual could give two figs about Emma’s itinerary, has darted toward the lawn where all of the food vendors are set up. She’s heading not for the cotton candy stand but for the Peach Tree Grille’s setup, from which the delectable smell of chargrilled burgers emanates. A girl after my own heart.

“Come back!” Emma wails, chasing after her sister. “You didn’t hear the best part!”

Charlotte chuckles as she watches Emma weave between the white tents and milling families, in desperate pursuit. Then her eyes narrow, fixing on my face. “Now that we’re alone, I wanted to ask if you’re okay, after…well, everything. I know what I told you was good news, but I’m sure it had to be shocking. And today—you don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I say, pasting on what I hope is a sincere smile.

Charlotte snorts. “Have you forgotten what I do for a living? I can tell a liar a mile away. You don’t have to be fine, Rune. I’m here for you.”

I wish, more than anything, that I could tell her about my premonition about Donovan. About that horrible voice, saying Our day will come , and the bizarre symbol that flashed in the air right after the power died. But she would think I’d lost my mind. So instead I say, “It’s just a lot to process. But I’m all right, I promise.”

“Hmmm.” We thread our way between the souvlaki tent and the gourmet ice cream sandwich truck, in the wake of the girls, before she speaks again. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the gorgeous laptop repairman who was at your house two nights ago, would it?”

I haven’t told Charlotte that Donovan and I hooked up. That would open the door to a whole lot of questions I’m not willing to answer. But now, I’m in the uncomfortable situation of having to lie to my best friend. “What? No! Of course not,” I mumble unconvincingly.

“Because,” Charlotte says, coming to a halt a few feet from her sister’s cupcake table, where Emma and Sophie are engaged in a heated argument, “you could do a lot worse.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“I know he’s easy on the eyes,” she says. “Which is a start. And he stayed with you after you passed out. He didn’t have to do that. I saw the way he looked at you. Are you absolutely sure he’s dating Jenny?”

Ugh to the ninety-eighth power. “He’s not, all right? It turns out he just volunteers at the animal rescue shelter. I, um, misinterpreted.”

Charlotte breaks into a huge smile. “I knew it! See, he’s a good guy. Maybe you should give it a chance, see where things go.”

Oh, I gave it a chance already, Charlotte. On his desk. Against the door. “Maybe,” I say, in hopes that this will get her off my back.

But no dice. “I’ve always wondered why you don’t really date anyone,” she says, regarding me with her trademark penetrating gaze. “First, I thought you just weren’t interested. But then I could see you were, and held yourself back.” She squeezes my hand again. “I get it now. I know you’ve been afraid to let anyone in because of that monster. But he’s gone, and it’s time for you to be brave. You deserve love, Rune. You have such a big, beautiful heart.”

Her sincerity makes my heart ache. “Charlotte, you and the girls are my family, and I love you all so much. Even when you argue over llamas and chocolate frosting.” I gesture at the girls, who are in dire need of an intervention. Charlotte’s sister, Roni, is trying to reason with them, or maybe bribe them with cupcakes. But if the rising tide of red in Emma’s cheeks is any indication, she’s failing miserably. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, really. But I don’t know if I’m ready for anything more.” Especially because my future husband is destined to bite the dust at the altar.

Roni is casting desperate looks in Charlotte’s direction, but my best friend ignores them. “All I’m saying is, you never know when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Spreadsheet might sweep you off your feet. Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind, okay?”

I laugh, despite the turmoil inside me. “All right, I promise. Now, we better do something about your children, before they take the cupcake stand down WWE-style.”

We end up stopping at the mobile truck for Sapphire Springs’ blood bank, and along with what seems like half the town, Charlotte and I do our annual good deed of donating. Then, one chocolate velvet cupcake (mine), one peach cobbler cupcake (Sophie’s), one cotton candy (Emma’s), and one United Nations-quality negotiating session (Charlotte’s) later, we’re on our way to what, as far as my best friend is concerned, is this event’s star attraction: The Rolling Tome, Sapphire Springs’ bookmobile. All the books are donated, and the sales go toward buying new ones for the library—which, in Charlotte’s opinion, gives her carte blanche to buy as many as she wants. Charlotte’s Tbr is as tall as Emma, and most of it is stacked on her bedside table. Poor Jess, is all I can say.

By a miracle, we make it to the bookmobile without World War III breaking out or Sophie escaping again. Charlotte disappears inside and the kids follow, charmed by the giant teddy bears that form a barrier between the adult and children’s section. I linger by the outdoor racks, checking out a display of Ilona Andrews novels to see if they’ve got the one I’ve been trying to find forever. Whereupon I’m promptly accosted by Mrs. Fontaine, her silver-streaked hair flowing to her shoulders and her blue eyes sparkling with glee.

“Rune, dear!” she says, holding up a copy of Blood Heir. “Looking for this?”

How the heck does she know? “It’s like you’re psychic,” I mutter, taking it from her.

“Hardly, dear. Just a connoisseur of my patrons’ interests. This one came in and I held it specially for you. Although”—she drops me a wink behind her horn-rimmed glasses—“maybe you won’t be doing as much reading as usual, eh?”

“What do you mean?” I say, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Well, we saw you with Donovan at the Peach Tree.” She gives me a Cheshire Cat’s grin. “You two made quite the pair.”

Oh, sweet purple ponies on steroids. “Yes, I know you saw us,” I tell her. “I think all of Sapphire Springs knows. Hashtag fatedmates? Hashtag firstdatemagic? Really?”

“Just giving you a little help, dear. After all, who knows where things between the two of you might lead? I can see the headline in the Springs Sing now: Whipped Into Love: From Milkshakes to Marriage. Catchy, no?”

She’s grinning diabolically, and too late, I remember how eager she was for me to read By a Thread. God, she’d probably submit a wedding announcement to the town’s free paper just for shits and giggles. “We’re not dating!” I say, much too loudly.

My exclamation brings Charlotte, Emma, and Sophie to the door of the bookmobile, just in time for Mrs. Fontaine’s next suggestion: “Or, oooh, I know! The Sweetest Proposal. Do you like that better?”

“No one is marrying anyone!” I shriek, loud enough that a bluebird roosting atop the bookmobile gives me a judgmental glare and takes flight.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Mrs. Fontaine says, wagging a finger at me. “But perhaps the Seer of Sapphire Springs can give you the answers you seek.”

“The—what?”

“Right over there,” she says, pointing. “A glimpse into your future.”

I follow her index finger to its natural conclusion and see a tent draped with tapestries, closed on three sides. At the front is a beaded curtain hung to look like a door and a sign that reads, Get Your Fortune Told! It’s For the Books!

Seeing more of the future is the very last thing I need. Not to mention, if there’s a Seer of Sapphire Springs, she’s standing right in front of them, not ensconced inside that tent. “Thanks so much, but I’ll pass.”

But Sophie and Emma’s eyes have gone wide, and they start jumping up and down. “Please, Auntie Rune?” Sophie begs. “It’ll be so much fun!”

Charlotte joins in, the traitor. “Come on, Rune. Open-minded, remember?”

I want to say no. Christ on a bike, do I want to. But Sophie’s got her little hands clasped beneath her chin, and Emma’s already listing all the ways we can adjust our itinerary to make time for it, and so, with a sigh, I give in.

“All right, fine. Let’s see what the Seer of Sapphire Springs has to say.”

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