Chapter 14
PANDORA’S DIARY
I woke this morning to a bunch of Leo’s texts:
Are you awake yet? Are you up? Want to check out the LIbrARY?
Pan
Pan
Pan are you there?
Pan
Panettone E. Coyote, are you up yet?
Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It’s almost eight. Eight! You sloth, you absolute moss-furred marsupian! Are you awake?
Sloths aren’t marsupians. You’d know that if we were at the library right now
Marsupian not marsupian
Lllllll. MarsupiaL. L as in library. L as in iLLuminated manuscrLpt.
Anyway. I’m slightly eager to check out that book. Text me when you rouse from your dreams of ME
Shit! I swear I wrote “dreams of Maine” and it autocorrected. Welp, now I’ve embarrassed myself into silence
I laughed but didn’t reply. Sometime in the night I’d realized how I needed to start today. I wanted to cross off another item on my Magical Moments list—like talk to Jamar about one of his lucid dreaming trips. But no. I had other plans and Leo was the second one of them.
I rolled out of bed, feeling great even though I drank too much last night.
That might be a gift worth getting: immunity from hangovers.
I dug around in my closet, then put on my important clothes: an expensive black and white floral print dress and pristine black Mary Jane flats I’d thrifted from a bougie consignment store.
I followed the scent of rhubarb muffins into the kitchen where I found Sheila wearing a pink tank top and khaki shorts, her long dark hair pinned by a gold claw clip.
She kneaded bread as I helped myself to a muffin and coffee.
On the days Sheila appeared early she used a moka coffee pot on the stove and gently heated the fresh milk to make a cafe au lait worthy of France.
“Where are you going, dressed up like that?” she asked, as she pounded dough.
“I’m headed off to a land a preemptive strike.”
“Well, before you go, preemptively land the dishes in the dishwasher.”
“Yes, Chef.” I crossed to the dishwasher, giving her a sidelong smile. “You really had me going about the stinky tofu.”
“Stinky fermented tofu,” she corrected. “It’ll be ready in a week, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
I pretended to think she was kidding, then closed the dishwasher sharply. That’d show her.
I took one of the golf carts through the village to the other side of the island.
When I spotted the Jack-Russell-shaped mailbox, I turned into the pebbled driveway which led to a wreck of a farmhouse with a sparse lawn and a tragic lack of Jack Russells.
Gabe’s grandfather’s gift had been with Jack Russells.
Not dogs. Jack Russells. Sometimes it works like that.
I parked near Gabe’s workshop, a repurposed chicken coop with big windows and a skylight. He refitted the walls, installed pumpkin pine flooring that gives off a welcoming glow, and used the refinished nesting boxes to store his equipment, metals, and gems.
“Knock, knock,” I said, stepping inside.
Gabe looked up from where he’d been working on a ring.
He wore jeans and a white T-shirt under the leather work apron and protective mask he uses when soldering.
He sells his jewelry at stores in the village and Portland and one—the jewel in his crown—in Kyoto.
His esthetic runs “ancient civilization,” and Deja and I both have loads of rings, earrings, and bracelets from when he just started out.
He’s so good with gold and silver and gems that I would’ve assumed it was tied to his gift if he had one. He actually took offense at the assumption. Which sort of proved my point that we don’t need gifts. Though I didn’t say that, because he was so sensitive about being doomed to normality.
He lifted his mask. “What are you doing all dressed up? Also, why aren’t you still in bed?”
“Because of pizza night.”
“Do I want to know?” he asked.
“Probably not, but here goes.” I took a breath. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he prompted, when I didn’t continue.
“Well, the fake reason I’m here is to ask about the books you donated to the library. I mean, it’s a real reason, but it’s not the main reason.”
He wiped his forehead. “So what’s the real reason?”
“You know I’ll always love you and”—I spoke faster when he opened his mouth—“and you’ll always love me, but, uh, I saw you at Jamar’s last night.”
“Ah! The pizza theme returns.”
“With a woman.”
“Oh,” he said.
“Yes, oh! The woman with perfect legs.”
“She’s a realtor, Pandora. She wants to buy my grandfather’s house.”
“Do you honestly think I don’t know how you greet someone you’re sleeping with? The temple kiss?”
He let out a breath. “I’m not sleeping with Ava.”
“C’mon,” I said.
“Well, not anymore.”
“Then when?”
“Four years ago. She’s…” He ducked his head and looked a little abashed. “She’s the one who got away.”
“Well, that’s insulting,” I said.
“Give me a break, Pandora. You didn’t think for a second that I was the one. You just thought I was fun.”
“I thought you thought I was fun, too! And you’re the one who dumped me last summer.”
He touched my arm. “I see how you look at Leo—how he looks at you. It might’ve been dark in that boathouse, but it was pretty obvious.”
“Leo’s an ass,” I said, my face heating. “You know what he thinks about normals.”
“No, what?”
“That wasn’t a question!” I snapped. “You do know! He told you! He’d never be with an ungifted woman.”
Gabe scoffed. “He was a teenager, Pandora. People change. Despite what you might think, even men are capable of maturing. I’ve seen the way he watches you. For him, you’re the one who got away.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I said.
“I might be stupid, but I’m not wrong.”
“Well, I’m still the one who got away, because I don’t care about getting my gift and he hasn’t changed. And I’m not here to talk about Leo!” I took a steadying breath. “What happened with Little Never-Misses-Leg-Day the last time?”
“They are amazing, aren’t they?”
“If you’re into beautiful legs, I guess.”
He chuckled, then his face turned serious. “We really liked each other. But Ava’s normal, so I broke it off. Yeah, exactly like Leo—and pretty much every other faerie-kin.”
“Every other faerie-kin jerk.”
“Be real, Pandora. Could you fall for a person who’d never understand the most important part of your life? Who’d never even see it?”
I didn’t bother answering; he wouldn’t believe me anyway. “Then what happened? You realized you might not get your gift, so she’s, like, your consolation prize?”
“No! She just has a lot of work on the island right now and I still can’t resist her.
Even though my time is running out.” Faint lines appeared on his forehead.
“Which… what if I don’t find my gift? What if I don’t have a gift?
What if I forget everything? I won’t even remember this conversation, I’ll think we were talking about pizza or—”
“Gabe!” I dragged him to sit with me on the couch in his front office. “You’re spiraling!”
“Okay, yeah. Sorry.”
“Take a deep breath.” I made him take two before continuing. “So… what changed your mind about falling for a woman who’d never understand the most important part of your life?”
“Um, nothing?”
“She’s ‘the one who got away’ and you’re treating her like a meaningless fling?”
“Of course not. I guess I think that if I don’t find my gift, then she will be the most important part of my life.”
“And what happens if you do?”
“Uh, then we’ll see. She’ll still be super important.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. This was exactly how Leo felt about me, and I hated it. Neither of them put people above gifts. How was I supposed to believe Leo would ever change if Gabe openly admitted he was a shitheel?
“Don’t look at me like that!” Gabe said. “I want to share magic with my kids. That’s the dream. I can’t imagine starting a family with anyone but Ava, but it wouldn’t be fair to them, or her, having kids she simply could not understand.”
My eyes pricked with unshed tears. “I guess.”
“Look at Leo’s mom. She’s always so tightly strung.” Gabe shifted the welder’s mask on his head. “Like she’s afraid that if she relaxes too much, she’ll get ambushed by everything she’s forgotten.”
“I’ve never really seen her that way,” I said, wondering if my childhood opinion of Leora was due for an update.
“Because you only had eyes for Leo,” Gabe said.
“I did not,” I told him, then kept talking when he scoffed: “I mean, you’re pretty easy on the eyes, too.”
“You just wanted someone to keep the covers warm.”
I laid my head on Gabe’s shoulder and smelled his familiar scent and realized that he was right. He was comfortable, he was convenient, but he absolutely wasn’t “the one.” It took some of the sting out of my jealousy.
“Now what’s the problem with my grandpa’s books?” he asked.
“Oh, right.” I sat up. “One of them knocked Leo on his ass.”
“Not that you care about Leo.”
I loftily ignored him. “It overpowered his gift, like if Shrig got trapped in a dictionary.”
“How would he get trapped in a dictionary?”
“Well, he would—oh, you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s a beautiful old leather-bound book with hand-painted pages that look like they were drawn by monks in the Middle Ages. We didn’t even recognize the letters; it’s not in any language Leo’s ever seen. You really don’t remember it?”
Gabe frowned. “Not even a little, but you know I don’t read. I donated a few bookcases full of stuff, but I didn’t actually look at any of it.”
“What do you mean you don’t read?” I asked.
“Well, not books.”
“You’re a terrible person.”
“What did you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping for a clue! Like your grandfather was raised in a magical monastery, stole a book of spells, then hid it away on a remote Maine island.”
“There are no magical monasteries and Beane Island isn’t that remote. But other than that—”
“Okay, okay! So much for clues.”
“You’re not that clueless, Pandora,” Gabe said, lowering his face shield again. “You just refuse to acknowledge them.”