Chapter Twenty-Nine
September came quickly.
Calisa wrote her college application essays about her summer working at her great-aunt’s inn, leaving out everything magical.
She applied to every school that had hotel management courses, as well as a few with business majors and minors.
It didn’t matter where she went—Auntie Zee could make her a portal.
By the time she graduated, she expected to know how to establish her own portals, in addition to opening and closing existing ones.
For now, though, she had senior year of high school ahead of her.
Her friends Crystal and Maddy were thrilled she’d met a new guy and instantly began to plot how to coax him to Brooklyn for senior prom at the end of the year.
Whenever she mentioned Steve, they assumed he was another guy in Vermont, and Crystal kept pestering Calisa for an introduction.
Calisa, though, kept the inn’s secrets from everyone. It had to be that way—the Faraway Inn needed to be kept safe, for everyone who needed it.
And there were a lot of people (and beings) who needed it.
Thanks to word spreading about the success of the reopening, it was booked for most of the summer and half the fall, especially during peak fall foliage weekends in October—many were repeat guests from prior years, but several were new, drawn by Auntie Zee’s reputation and word of mouth spread by the vendors in the Night Market.
She only saw Ethan at a distance until the second week of school, when he was waiting for her outside the bodega downstairs from her family’s apartment. As soon as he saw her heading for the stairwell, he jogged to catch up to her.
“Hi, Ethan.” She didn’t feel the urge to say much else.
He had apologized, after all, earlier in the summer.
She didn’t need anything more from him. She checked her heart to see if it still felt sore, and she felt a familiar what-could-have-been ache.
It was surrounded, though, by thoughts of what she needed to do this afternoon at the inn for the guests, what cake she’d bake next, whether anyone had fed Steve yet, and when her and Jack’s next trip to the Night Market should be.
“Calisa!” Ethan said. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
She hadn’t. She just hadn’t tried to see him. “Not really.”
“I think we need to talk.”
Calisa considered that—did she want to hash through everything that had gone wrong? It wasn’t all that complicated, actually. “I don’t know what there is to say,” she told him honestly.
“I’m hoping we can still be friends,” Ethan said.
“I…” She stopped, thought about it, and then smiled sadly at Ethan. Not unkindly. “We aren’t enemies. I don’t hate you.”
“That’s a start,” he said.
“And an end,” Calisa said. “Ethan, you should find a way to move on. We’re the past. I have a different future now.”
“Yeah, I heard you met some guy—”
She stopped him. “Ethan.”
He waited for her to say whatever she was going to say.
She thought of how much it had hurt when he’d betrayed her, how it had felt like her future had popped like a bubble, how she’d had to redefine who she was and what she wanted.
She’d fled Brooklyn because of him. Changed her whole summer because of him—her whole life.
She should have feelings about all of that. And she did.
“Thank you,” she told him.
“For what?”
She didn’t elaborate. He’d shaped her life.
Broken her heart. And when it had healed, it had become like those Japanese vases glued together with gold, more beautiful because of their breaks.
Not that she wanted to go through that again.
But she wasn’t going to regret it either.
She liked who Future Calisa was. “Goodbye, Ethan.”
She walked toward her apartment lobby.
He followed her.
Glancing back, she saw the moment he was distracted by a siren on the street. She concentrated as Auntie Zee had taught her, tapping into what was inside her….
When Ethan turned back, all he saw was a gray cat strolling away.
—
Calisa whispered “Open” to the apartment bathroom door, and then she stepped through to Vermont.
Outside her window, the mountains were already painted with golds and reds and oranges, in between the deep green of the pine trees.
Yellow birch leaves stood out like candle flames between them.
The apple tree in the yard sagged with fruit, nearly ripe.
She closed the door and the portal, restoring both the closet on her side and the bathroom on her parents’ side before she ventured out to the lobby. “Hey, mirror.”
Ugh, you’re back.
“Love you too.” She passed by the mirror and headed for the kitchen. “What kind of cake should I make today?” she asked Jack. She had a stack of recipes that she wanted to try out. “Apple cake? Are the apples ripe?”
He grinned at her. “Guess who booked a room for the weekend?”
She had no idea. “A unicorn?”
“No.”
Pity. She would’ve liked to meet a unicorn, if they existed.
Her eight-year-old self with a collection of unicorn stickers would have been thrilled.
“Are they real? If they are, we should definitely visit a realm with unicorns and invite them to the B&B.” So far, she had notes on twenty-five realms, but as she understood it, there were an infinite number.
Not all of them reachable with her level of magic, but still, it wasn’t impossible.
Ooh, she’d have so many questions for them!
“We’d have to build a stable,” Jack said, “or at least a unicorn-accessible room.”
That could be done, probably. She’d watched a centaur clomp down the stairs, so a unicorn wouldn’t be that much of a reach to make it equine-ready. “Who? Give me a hint.”
“Melidor,” Jack said.
That wasn’t a hint. It was an answer. But it didn’t matter, since she was happy to hear it. She hadn’t seen her dryad nieces and nephews in weeks, and she couldn’t wait to see how much they’d grown. Could they talk yet? Did they have leaves? Flowers? “With her babies?”
“She said they want to see their favorite aunt,” Jack said.
“All right, then, apple cake it is!” She grinned back at him but didn’t move toward the bowls or the ingredients. Instead she crossed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “First, though…” She kissed him.
He kissed her back with just as much enthusiasm. She felt as if she were bathed in sunlight, the warmth of summer spreading into autumn. Her hands ran up his back and into his hair. He cradled her close, and she thought of nothing and everything all at once.
When the kiss ended, he answered her earlier question, “The apples aren’t ripe yet.”
“Then we’ll have to go somewhere they are,” Calisa said with a smile.
Jack smiled back, and she felt her insides melt like chocolate in the oven. “Night Market?”
“Night Market,” she agreed.
“While we’re there, we can bring back some more of Rin’s pastries—those were a hit with the new guests in room nine. Plus Steve will want more sliced meat…. Wait, I’ll make a list.” He fetched a piece of paper. “Okay, what else do we need?”
She rattled off the ingredients for apple cake, as well as for tomorrow’s breakfast. “Do you think there will be dancing at the Night Market today?”
His eyes lit up. “I think we should see.”
“I think so too.” Calisa took his hand as he tucked the list into his pocket. Steve swooped down from the rafters and settled on her shoulder.
Hand in hand, Calisa and Jack strolled out of the kitchen. She waved to the mirror as they went by. Upstairs, they entered the empty guest room, and Steve chirped at the firebird waiting for them in the hearth.
Calisa opened the closet door. A familiar portal swirled in front of them.
“Ready?” Calisa asked.
“Always,” Jack said.
Together they walked through the iridescence. Overhead the full moon shone on the Night Market, and the familiar chatter of vendors and their customers drifted up to them.
Steve launched himself into the air and chirped happily.
Beside the portal, Jack spun Calisa in a twirl, catching her in his arms. She laughed as they half danced and half slid their way down the grassy slope. When they reached the tents, she wrapped her arms around him. He smiled at her, and she drew him close.
While the little dragon flew in circles overhead, Calisa kissed Jack. He tasted like an epiphany. Like chocolate cake with raspberry jam. And like a future she wanted.