Chapter 21 Sadie The Mirror of Truth
Sadie
The Mirror of Truth
Max literally came in his pants last night, and it was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen. To have someone so into you, so in the moment that they simply can’t hold back—I’m riding a high I might never get over.
And it’s strange because for the entire afternoon I didn’t stress about work. Not once did I wonder if Levi had returned the youth coaches’ emails, or if he’d gotten suckered into committing to something for Cooper’s team that’ll be hard to pull off.
I woke up feeling a little mixed up, like my insides were revolting but happy at the same time. It’s not guilt, just a mild buzzing that’s made its way under my skin—a trepidation stemming from dipping my toe over the line.
Max
Hey, so I may have given Ollie your number.
Thanks?
Max
No, it's a good thing. But could we maybe keep what happened last night out of the conversation?
A burst of laughter rolls through me as my phone pings with a new notification. If he doesn’t know that I’m not an over-sharer by now, I’m not sure he ever will.
Olive
Hey Sadie. Max gave me your number. This is Olive, btw.
Hi.
Olive
I was wondering if you’d want to get lunch with me. I think we might have more in common than you realize.
Sure, I don’t have much going on. Want to meet at The Wharf?
Olive
Sounds perfect. See you at noon?
(Thumbs up*)
She obviously doesn’t know that Max told me about what she went through last year. And why would she? Max has made it clear it’s not something that she’d want to advertise. But I feel a little awkward knowing a secret about her—a little deceptive.
Max
The silence is deafening.
Sorry, I was texting your sister-in-law. Your secrets are my secrets.
Max
Phew! They already had a whole thing going about my journal… I think my mom sent the girls' photos of it.
And you’re saying Olive has these pictures?
Max
Hilarious.
I’ll ask her to bring them to lunch.
Max
You guys are hanging out?
I promise I’ll limit conversation about our recent displays of affection… after she lets me read your deep dark secrets.
Max
What time is lunch?
Who could know? (*Smile*)
I’m not sure "displays of affection" is the right description of what happened between us last night—it was more passion-filled than loving. But affectionate isn’t a word I would associate with myself. And one I’m not sure has much of anything to do with my fate despite being the most recent answer to a clue.
After Max cleaned himself up yesterday, we ordered takeout, put on a movie we didn’t watch, and spent way too much time trying to solve it.
4. Down
Heated: Demonstrative
Sliding my arm across my bed, I flip the book open to the fourth puzzle.
The letters are spelled out in boxes, the gold script sunken deeply into the page.
Four down, four to go. A sense of accomplishment sinks into me.
I’m halfway through, halfway to figuring out what this is all supposed to mean, yet I couldn’t feel further away from deciphering it.
I’ve been doing crosswords for years and have stacks of finished puzzles in boxes that I’m saving for a rainy day—the one that will come when I have a house of my own and can frame my favorite ones.
The thing that’s throwing me is that they always have a theme.
Sometimes it’s broad like a day at the beach, but occasionally it’s something specific like a crossword that covers a particular sport.
This one, albeit oddly easy to solve with Max, doesn’t follow a pattern that I can tell.
It’s arbitrary, random words that could be classified as character traits—but traits I don’t necessarily possess.
Scanning the four I’ve solved: Altruistic, Helpful, Reliable, and Affectionate—I find myself wondering if this puzzle even has anything to do with me.
I could define things that I have done to fit each category, but the caviling in my brain makes me think it has nothing to do with me at all.
These could describe literally anyone who is a decent human being, and that brings me back to my original conclusion—this is busywork.
Checking the time on my phone, I leap from the bed, throw the blankets off me, and dart toward the shower. I can’t answer the questions that linger about why she gave me this or how it’s enchanted, but I can go to this lunch and find out more about the last time this happened.
The Wharf is a classic New England waterfront restaurant.
It sits on the edge of the water with enormous concrete pylons dotting the edge of the patio’s retaining wall.
There are round, weathered tables with creamy wicker chairs, and navy umbrellas that drop into the center of each one.
The view is incredible, with sailboats and yachts of all shapes and sizes lining the marina.
The water laps at the seawall, creating its own euphony over the sound of the humming restaurant.
Wrapping my hand around a long wooden handle to step inside, the smell of buttery seafood, french fries, and salty air wafts over me. It smells like home, exactly as I remember it, and my stomach growls.
"How many?" A blonde host greets me. She’s dressed in a signature blue t-shirt that features a humpback whale on the breast pocket.
Scanning the restaurant, I lean in, trying to get a view of the patio from inside. "I’m actually meeting someone. I’m not sure if she’s here yet."
"Does she have the most incredible tattoo sleeve? Red hair?" The woman holding a menu in her hands asks.
"Yes."
"Follow me."
Stepping through a glass door onto the same patio I’ve spent countless afternoons hanging out on, I spot Olive immediately. She’s at a table in the far back corner, one that’s right on the edge of the water. Her hand raises, waving delicately.
"Hey. I hope it’s okay that we sit outside. I’ve been at Black Kettle all morning and needed a little air."
I slip into the seat across from her, nodding. "Of course, this weather is heaven compared to what I’m used to."
"I thought you lived in Golden City? It’s not the same?"
A laugh rolls out of me. "No, I do. But most of my time is spent inside a chilly arena. I work for the Flames."
"What does that mean?" Her eyes narrow as she places her menu on the table.
"The hockey team? How do you get engaged to an O’Reilly and not know about the Golden City Flames?"
Olive giggles, sipping the water that’s in front of her.
"Oh. Yeah, I don’t really pay attention to sports.
When they watch it, I usually just read instead.
" She flips her hand in the air. "It’s not really my thing. But it makes a lot more sense why Max thinks you’re the coolest person he’s ever met. "
Tucking a chunk of hair behind my ear, a small smile forms on my lips. "You want to know a secret?"
"I’ve been dying to. Tell me everything."
"I’m not really a sports girl either." Her mouth falls open, and her eyes bug out of her head. "I know. It’s shocking."
Olive laughs, and it’s sweet sounding, like she’s one of those genuine people who don’t just laugh with you because they think it’s the right thing to do.
A server approaches, a young guy with a shirt that matches the host's. He has golden-brown skin, neatly trimmed hair, and a set of dimples that would make even the toughest critics swoon. The name badge he’s sporting reads: Manuel.
"Hello, ladies." He reaches to top off Olive’s water glass, then fills mine. "Have you been here before?"
We both nod, momentarily enraptured by his smile. He probably makes a million dollars in tips—it should come with a warning. He’s perfect for Nora, and apparently I’m now a matchmaker.
"Yes, I have," Olive purrs, and I raise an eyebrow at her.
Smiling, I nod. "Yep, me too."
"Well, I’m happy to give you more time if you’d like, or I can take both your drink and food orders."
"Manuel? This might seem a bit forward, but do you have a special someone in your life?" Olive asks, her voice full of a southern charm I hadn’t noticed before.
He chuckles, rubbing his chin awkwardly. "People usually call me Manny. And unfortunately, no. I recently moved here. I’m not really into married women though." His eyes dart to the rock on Olive’s finger, and she blushes.
I feel like I’m watching a train wreck. She isn’t asking for herself, at least I highly doubt it with how into Sam she seemed yesterday.
Olive places a hand on her chest. "Oh, no. Good gravy. I didn’t mean me." His eyes dart in my direction. "Nope, not her either. I have a sister-in-law who is adorable. I’d love to set you up sometime… as friends, of course."
He beams. "Yeah, that’d be cool. I’ll write my number down for her." Pulling a notepad out of his apron pocket, he scribbles on the sheet, then tears it off and hands it to Olive. "What would you ladies like to order?"
We agree on sharing a couple of appetizers instead of getting our own meals: steamed shrimp, hush puppies, and calamari.
And for drinks, she orders a Pellegrino with lime, while I opt for one with fresh pineapple.
Manny swaggers away—a little more pep in his step than when he approached, if I’m not mistaken.
"Not going to lie, I wasn’t sure where you were going with that whole thing for a minute," I say, pulling my sunglasses on.
"He’s perfect for Nora."
"I thought so too, just from an objectively everyone has to be better than Thad perspective."
She throws her head back. "Ugh, I know. Mabel won’t let any of us say anything, but I literally want to shower after being around him just to wash the ick off."
We tumble into a fit of laughter—one that feels easy, like I've known her forever. Manny drops our drinks off, smiling at both of us.
Olive straightens as we gain control of ourselves. "I have a bone to pick with you."
Having just taken a sip of my drink, I nearly spit it out. "What did I do? I barely know you."
"You told me you were going to tell me a secret." She points her finger at me. "And I thought it was going to be about the magical puzzle book. Since you basically let Ariella do all the talking and assuming yesterday."
"She is good at assuming, isn’t she?" I snip, watching Olive’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline.
That may have been too far. I meant what I told Max. She grew on me yesterday. I just want my cousin to be happy, and it seems like she’s not going to give him that.
Olive pats my hand across the table. "I know she’s annoying you because of How. It bothers me too, but everyone has their own path. Would it be easier if I told you what happened to me last year?"
Well, I guess that resolves that. Max must have shared that he told me.
"Sure, I’d love to hear your take on it."
Olive recounts the whole thing from beginning to end, without sparing a single detail.
I’m in awe of her. My situation, it’s something I can avoid or refuse to look at.
I can’t imagine having my feelings in an ever-changing tattoo on my arm.
I also didn’t ask for this and am not quite convinced it’s not all just a ruse.
My mind could be playing tricks on me, the same way a magician does a sleight of hand.
Maybe I’ve imagined things happening that aren’t really there.
"And now it’s just there permanently? Your love story?" I pluck a shrimp off the platter that Manny delivered mid-story and pop it into my mouth.
"Yep. But it’s sort of beautiful, right?" She twists her arm, pointing to the swirling colors embedded in her skin.
"It’s stunning. I have only one question." I sip my drink, washing down the bite I finished chewing. "Do you regret it? Asking for help like that, then being given something so life-changing? It had to be confusing."
"No." Olive picks her fingernails. "I did. I wanted nothing more than to be done with it, done with Irina. But in the end, the gift she gave me is the one that led me to Sam. I don’t know if we would be where we are today if I hadn’t learned the lessons I needed to learn."
Her answer is poetic yet again, vastly different from my experience. I have learned nothing from the clues—nothing of substance, anyway.
"That’s beautiful." I scooch back from the table. "I’ll be right back. I’m going to use the restroom." Standing, I walk toward the glass door that leads inside, but Olive slides up next to me.
"What? I have to go too." She shrugs, pulling open the door.
"And our table? We could have taken turns." I slip past her, headed for the back of the restaurant.
She laughs. "I reserved it for the afternoon. No one is stealing it."
I guess she expected this conversation to take a lot longer than it has. We push into the two-stall bathroom, each taking one. When I’m three-quarters through relieving myself, a voice rings out, one I don’t recognize.
"Hello, Olivia. It’s been a long time."
That’s weird. I didn’t hear her exit the stall. I shift forward, looking at the ground under the wall to my left. Her feet are still there—painted toenails, brown sandals. The room is painfully quiet, as if Olive froze in place.
"Stop it, Irina. You guys made up. You’re not toying with her," Beth’s voice rings out.
The first one cackles. "Ollie, dear. You know I’m just having a little fun. How’s Samuel? I guess my wedding invitation got lost in the mail."
My heart lurches into my throat, and my hand freezes midway to the toilet paper holder. Am I going to get the chance to ask Beth what all this nonsense is about? I spring into action, finishing what I came here to do, and exit the stall. The bathroom is empty—there’s not a soul in here.
"Olive?"
Silence.
"Olive?"
"Uh, yeah. I’m good. I’m here." There’s another flush, and she emerges to stand at the sink beside me. We wash our hands without saying a word. Did I imagine all that? Or did she hear it too?
"Did you—"
"Yes," Olive answers before I can finish, then spins to grab a paper towel to dry her hands. "Sadie, look." Her body freezes, all except her hand. She’s pointing at a key that’s dangling from the doorknob. It’s affixed to one of those vintage hotel keychains shaped like a diamond.
As we glance back at the mirror, it fogs over as if we’ve been running the hot water too long. Then, suddenly, words are revealed one letter at a time as if someone is drawing them with their finger.
Your future won’t wait forever. This will help you understand.
Olive clutches my arm, digging her fingers into my skin. "I’m calling, Sam. Grab the key and let’s go."
"Why do we need the key? It might not even be related…"
"You always take what they give you, Sadie." She smiles at me, but chews her lip nervously. "If I learned anything, it's that everything is a clue."