Chapter 4
We did not, in fact, head down to the graveyard, nor did we explore the town. After climbing the steps, eating a power bar, and taking a hot shower, neither Lark nor I wanted to head back out into the snow, so we called it a night.
Bacon seeps its siren’s scent under my door, and I throw off my bedspread just as Lark barrels inside. Wearing her unicorn onesie jammies, she looks far younger than her twelve years.
“What’s the etiquette for heading to breakfast in our pajamas?” I purse my lips as I ask the more intelligent of us two. It’s oh so tempting.
“Possibly frowned upon,” she answers in her angelic voice.
“But not impossible.”
“I hear voices.”
Huh, I grunt. “Plural.”
“Yes, which would imply multiple people to see you with bed head and pink pajamas with skunks all over them.” She looks around. “Where’s Cooper?”
“I locked him in the bathroom because we forgot his litter box.”
“That could have been bad.”
“I know the last time we locked him in a bathroom he sprayed.” No amount of odor neutralizing spray got that off the walls. I wince, shuffling to the bathroom and knocking once. “Cooper.” I swear I see his little feet under the door and his shadow moving across the worn wooden slats.
“I think he’s mad.”
“I can’t leave him in there and make things worse.” Worrying my lip, I reach for the doorknob. I really don’t want to make this entire bed-and-breakfast smell. “I’m opening the door.”
“You should really get his scent glands removed,” Lark whispers.
“That removes his entire purpose,” I hiss. “Shh, or he will hear you.”
With a roll of her eyes, she steps back and to the corner of the bedroom while I swing open the door.
Cooper stands there with his squinty, beady eyes. With a defiant chirp, his tail feathers out.
“I’ll bring you eggs.” Undeterred by my offer, he vibrates his tail.
“Fine, I’ll hunt down a grasshopper.” In the freaking fall, though, it’s more like winter this far north.
For a solid minute, I think he’s going to spray me, but then he struts over to a pillow I threw off the bed mid sleep and curls up to fall fast asleep.
“That was close,” Lark wheezes out. “Where are you going to—”
“Don’t say it.” I shake my head, hoping that maybe this little town has a pet store somewhere—it wouldn’t make any sense not to—or at least a general store. All I can hope for at the present moment is caffeine to go with that bacon. “Dress. Mama needs sustenance.”
“The preteen needs sustenance,” Lark retorts, marching out of my room and into her own.
I shut the door in her wake, locking myself in with the grumpy skunk. I glare at my suitcase resting on the floor. Clothing slips out in haphazard piles I’m going to have to dig through in order to find exactly what I want.
When my brother invited us to live with him in Maine, I hadn’t anticipated the weather. Sure, I went shopping for heavier leggings and some sweaters, but it wasn’t like he gave me a shopping list. That’s something I’m going to have to remedy as soon as possible.
What are the odds that there is a clothing store downtown with something a little warmer?
I toe through one of my piles, finding a set of clean unmentionables, jeans, and what looks like a sweater.
I dress and find a fresh pair of socks, or as fresh as I’m going to get, considering my moving pod is on its way to Maine with all the rest of our important necessities. Here’s to hoping Arlo can get my car fixed sooner rather than later.
Knowing there is no help for my curls since I went to bed with wet hair, I pull my locks back into a messy bun and rush out the door. Lark’s door is open, and her laughter trails up from the kitchen downstairs.
Following the sound of her musical laughter, I enter a kitchen that throws me back a hundred years but leaves me confused. It’s like she purposely upgraded it to the past. Along the far wall, windows allow the fresh morning light to filter inside with the spectral view of the cemetery beyond.
In front is a booth, where my smiling girl sits, sipping something steamy with an enormous plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. Her little legs swing as she chows down.
To the left rests a normal kitchen, or what I would consider a normal kitchen, with quartz countertops and a farmhouse sink. The right throws me off, with a fireplace and a stove set inside it.
Saffron hums to herself as she works over a lit flame, cooking eggs in a cheesy goodness that makes my mouth water. The small butcher’s block island is filled to the brim with all kinds of breakfast goodies that make me salivate, and my hands itch to snatch a plate.
“Wash your hands.” Saffron doesn’t even look up as she expertly flips an omelet, wearing another dress that belongs in a different century. I can’t tell if it’s her aesthetic, or if she’s just playing a part here in this bed-and-breakfast I have yet to learn the name of.
Feeling sheepish, I head over to the sink and wash my hands, but it’s okay, because I find the coffee carafe steaming with a fresh pot and an empty mug screaming my name.
Filling the mug with a little skunk on it, I sip the bitter black liquid, and a sigh escapes my lips as I swallow. Perfect.
Saffron turns with a pleased smile on her face as she hands me a plate with a cheese omelet, bacon, and toast. There’s enough food here for a grown man, but I take the plate with a pleasant smile and a thank-you on my lips.
Gram raised me with southern hospitality, and you say thank you when you’re handed something.
“You are very welcome,” Saffron cuts in before the words leave my mouth. “Lark told me you loved a good cheese omelet.” She raises a white brow that reminds me significantly of my gram.
“I do.” On my way to the table, I snatch up a cheese Danish and sit across from Lark, who already cleared her plate. It’s licked clean, if I’m not mistaken.
“Mrs. Larson said the town is magical.” Lark’s chocolate eyes sparkle with interest that surprises me. My daughter isn’t one to fall prey to anything whimsical—that’s my role—so the fact that she believes this strange woman throws me off a bit.
“Magical?” I dive into my omelet, nearly moaning at how delicious it is as Saffron sits across from me and beside Lark. Her knowing blue eyes take me in as I shovel eggs into my mouth.
“Of course Silent Springs is magical,” Saffron states with a challenge in her tone.
I point my fork at her. “What kind of magic are we talking about here? Because there are multiple options to choose from, so I’m going to need you to be specific. A Lord of the Rings kind of magical? A Harry Potter kind of magical? Or are we talking Disney Princesses?”
“Nothing so dramatic.” Saffron laughs.
“You should realize my mom is dramatic. She has zero chill.” Lark shoves a slice of my toast into her mouth to avoid my glare.
“Oh, I caught onto that already, honey.” Saffron pats Lark’s hand in a grandmotherly gesture that rips at my chest.
It’s a simple touch really, one that any gram would give her grandchild, but Lark never got the option to experience that kind of comfort.
Neither from my parents nor her father’s parents.
She never had that experience, and having Saffron give it to her tears my heart in two.
I don’t know Saffron, I don’t know her motives, and for the last twelve years, I’ve had to not only be Lark’s mother, but her father and grandparent also.
It’s always been me, and for some obnoxious reason, I only want it ever to be me. Logically, I know that isn’t fair to Lark, but when I’ve been her everything for so long, it’s a hard pill to swallow to allow anyone else to be something to her—including a matronly stranger.
I cough into my hand, looking away as I squeeze my mug of coffee in a death grip, the ceramic threatening to break.
“I’m only dramatic on Saturdays, and as it’s a Tuesday, you are both very wrong.
” I shiver as the coffee warms my blood and exhale, looking over at Saffron, who once more has that all-knowing indifference about her.
“Well, I have no doubt in my mind that once you walk downtown, you will fall in love with the area,” Saffron states, sounding so sure of herself, I almost fall into the trap.
“Now, it’s just a short walk downtown, but if you would like to drive, you are more than welcome to use my car.
I know you are eager to get to Arlo’s and find out just how much those repairs are going to cost you. ”
“Or how long,” I mutter.
“Don’t worry about that, you can stay here at the Cicada B&B for as long as you need, free of charge.”
“What’s the catch?” I set my coffee down, readying myself for interrogation mode, because nothing in this world is ever free, and I know she must be up to something.
“No catch.” She smiles, and while it looks genuine, I’m not buying it.
“I get to stay in my own room?” Lark lights up.
“Kid, you’ve always had your own room.”
“Not one that overlooks a cemetery.” She has a point there.
“I saw you two were in bed by the time we got back. Traveling will do that to you.” Saffron nods before gesturing toward my plate. “Eat up, you’ll need your energy today.”
“That’s right, we have to register me for school!” Lark bounces in her seat.
“Lark.” I use my very best mom voice, but it makes her squint at me. “We won’t be here that long, little bird.”
Unfazed, she just shrugs. “I refuse to allow this detour to interfere with my education no matter how long.”
“It could be days,” I reply, exasperated at raising a mini Einstein.
“Yes, and in that time, my education could lapse. I’m supposed to start a whole new grade. I can’t skip a grade only to find myself behind.”
“What grade are you starting?” Saffron squeezes Lark’s hand in comfort.
“Eighth!”