Small and on the dilapidated side, even as Lily Dale cottages go, Calla’s home lies on the Dale’s wooded perimeter. As far as Odelia’s concerned, it’s a bit too far off the beaten path, but her granddaughter claims that she enjoys the seclusion.
‘I’m a writer, Gammy. Writers need to be alone.’
‘You managed to crank out your first novel when you lived with Jacy.’
‘Jacy was in med school and then doing his residency. I was even more alone then than I am now.’
‘But I didn’t worry about you then the way I do now, because I knew someone was there to … well, to …’
‘Don’t you dare say to take care of me, Gammy. I don’t need a man for that. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.’
That conversation had taken place a few weeks ago. Odelia had interpreted her granddaughter’s independent streak as a sign that she wouldn’t be jumping back into a relationship any time soon.
Maybe she’d been wrong.
Climbing the porch steps, careful not to catch her foot on a loose tread, she notes that the large potted begonia she’d given Calla earlier in the summer has withered in its plastic garden center pot.
‘I’ll do my best to keep it alive, Gammy,’ she’d said, ‘but you know I don’t have your green thumb.’
‘You don’t need a green thumb. All you have to do is water it.’
Odelia dumps her own half-finished bottle into the plant and hesitates with her fist poised over the wooden door, about to knock.
What if Calla is still sleeping? She often wakes up early to write, but just as often seems to write until dawn and then sleep until noon. If this is one of those days, she won’t be pleased to find her grandmother on her doorstep. She may not be pleased to see her either way.
Odelia probably should have thought things through before showing up uninvited so early in the morning, but her impulsivity sometimes gets the better of her.
Should she go back home and wait until a more reasonable hour to—
The door opens. ‘Gammy?’
Calla’s hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing shorts and a tank top. Odelia can’t tell whether she’s fully clothed and wide awake, squinting because of the bright morning light, or if she’d slept in that outfit and is blinking the sleep from her eyes.
Odelia greets her with a cheery, ‘Good morning.’
‘What are you doing here in … that?’ Calla gestures, and Odelia remembers that she’s the one who’d slept in her outfit.
‘I thought we could have a nice chat over coffee in our pajamas, just like the old days,’ she says, wishing she’d thought to bring along some of that sauerkraut cake, because Calla doesn’t look convinced.
‘Why are you really here, Gammy?’
‘Because you’re my granddaughter and I love you.’
‘And you’re my grandmother and I love you,’ Calla says with a sigh, ‘but you need to tell me what’s going on.’
‘What do you mean?’
Calla rolls her eyes. ‘Really? Are we going to do this?’
‘Do what?’
‘Pretend this is just a friendly little visit?’
‘What else would it be?’
Calla sighs. ‘Come on in, Gammy.’
Odelia steps past Calla into the cottage.
It’s small – just one level, with a living area, bedroom, kitchen and bath. She sees an open laptop and cup of coffee on Calla’s oversized writing desk, which faces the window.
Li’l Chap trots in from the kitchen, tail crooked high in the air, and nuzzles his face against Odelia’s ankles.
She bends to scoop the purring kitten into her arms. ‘At least someone’s happy to see me,’ she says. ‘I miss you, too, little fellow. Things aren’t the same without you around the house.’
‘You need to get a cat, Gammy,’ Calla says. ‘And I’d be happier to see you if I didn’t know exactly why you’re here. I’ve told you a million times, I don’t want to talk about this with you.’
‘Talk about what?’
‘Blue.’
Odelia raises an eyebrow. ‘What makes you think I’m here about him?’
‘Walter texted me last night.’
Oh. Walter. For a moment there, she’d attributed it to Calla’s mediumship or an educated guess.
‘What did he say?’
‘That he was sorry if he’d caused any trouble between us. He said Peter had told him what I said about the Slaytons selling their house, and that when he mentioned it to you, you got all bent out of shape.’
‘Bent out of shape?’ Odelia is indignant. ‘He told you I was all bent out of shape?’
‘Actually, not in those words, but—’
‘I barely even batted an eye!’
‘Gammy. Come on.’
‘All right, maybe I batted an eye, but only because I was surprised that you’d told Walter and not me.’
‘I told Peter.’
‘Peter, Walter …’ Odelia waves a hand in the air. ‘Why didn’t you mention any of this to me?’
‘Because it didn’t come up.’
‘And it came up in your conversation with Peter?’
‘Yes. He asked me if I’d seen Blue when I was in New York, because he’d heard that he was staying in their apartment there.’
‘And … is he?’
‘Yes.’
‘You knew that when you went there?’
‘It was a business trip, Gammy. I registered for this conference a year ago, way before Blue and I ever got back together and broke up. It had nothing to do with him. Anyway, he’s been through so much lately, with all the publicity surrounding his father. David really destroyed both their lives.’
‘You don’t have to tell me. I know.’
‘Right. Well, anyway, he’s thinking of taking a job in London.’
‘London!’ Odelia sinks into the nearest chair, imagining Calla living across the ocean, instead of across the Dale. ‘But London is so far away.’
‘That’s the point. Blue wants to get out of the country until everything dies down. Or for good.’
‘And you’re going with him.’
‘What? No!’ Calla gapes at her. ‘Why would I go with him?’
‘You wouldn’t?’
‘Gammy, didn’t I just tell you I need to be on my own for a while?’
‘Well, yes, but you and Blue seem to be—’
‘Friends. We’re just friends. Just like me and Jacy.’ She gives a little laugh. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t seem to cut my exes out of my life forever, like you did with my grandfather.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s probably healthier to do it your way. I just wish you’d told me.’
‘About seeing Blue? Yeah, no. No way. I can’t even bring up his name without you freaking out, and – oh, Gammy, he wants you to let him go.’
‘Let him go? I’m not the one who’s holding on to—’
‘I mean Li’l Chap!’ Calla says with a laugh, pointing at the wriggly kitty on Odelia’s lap. ‘His claws are out, and I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘Ah. That’s exactly it, Calla. I don’t want you to get hurt, either.’
‘Clever. I see what you did there, Gammy.’
Odelia sets Li’l Chap on the floor, where he chases something only he can see, as felines tend to do. She smiles fondly, remembering her own late great cat, Gert.
‘Why can’t you just trust me to make good decisions, Gammy?’ Calla asks.
‘Trust you …’ Odelia tilts her head, pondering the phrase. ‘No, that’s not it.’
‘I feel like that’s exactly it. You think I’m still the same person I was when I was seventeen, and that I’m going to—’
‘No, Calla, what I mean is, I came over here to talk to you because I believed Spirit was warning me that you had betrayed my trust, but—’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you remember how you thought I’d fainted yesterday?’
‘When we were on the porch together? You did.’
‘I don’t know if I actually fainted, but I do know that that was when Spirit first reached out to me with that message.’
Calla’s eyes widen. ‘You’re kidding. That’s exactly when … wait a second, Gammy, why would you even think that warning was about me?’
‘Heat exhaustion?’
Calla narrows her eyes.
She tries again. ‘Because you were there?’
‘Those aren’t good reasons. I can’t believe you think I’d betray you.’
‘Not just you. And it’s the truth. You were there. So was Pandora – I saw her out in front of her house. I also considered that it might be about her. She and I have our issues, but I don’t think Spirit was referring to her, either.’
‘What was the message, exactly?’
‘“Don’t trust her.”’
‘OK, this is going to sound crazy, Gammy, but I got a similar message from my guides around the same time.’
‘When we were on the porch?’
‘Yes. It was a warning about an untrustworthy woman.’
‘Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘Because I thought … well, I thought …’
‘You thought it was about me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Calla! How could you—’
‘Um, you were there? Heat exhaustion?’ Calla shrugs.
‘Touché.’
Thunder rumbles outside.
‘It’s going to rain,’ Calla says. ‘You should get home.’
‘In a minute. First, tell me if you were having a text exchange with Blue Slayton yesterday when you were at my house?’
‘What? No! Why would you—’
‘You seemed so captivated by it. I just assumed …’
‘Gammy, it was an agent I met at the conference. I had told him about this idea I have, and …’ She shrugs. ‘He wanted to hear more.’
‘An idea for a new novel?’
‘For a new book, but I really don’t want to get into that right now.’
‘This isn’t your love life, it’s your career. You can share. Maybe I can offer some sage advice from an old lady.’
‘You’re not an old lady.’
‘That’s not what you said yesterday. At my age—’
‘Sorry, Gammy. I just worry about you.’
‘And I worry about you. Let me help.’
‘I don’t think you can. I just need to figure out what I want.’
‘You want to be a writer. It’s the only thing you ever wanted.’
‘No, I know, and I still do want to write. Just not the book everyone seems to want from me. My agent said my readers are expecting another novel like the first one and the one I just finished. And my editor said it has to be different enough to be different’ – she wags finger quotes in the air – ‘but similar enough to be exactly the same. Does that make any sense to you, Gammy?’
‘Of course. It’s all anyone ever wants, isn’t it?’
‘In a book?’
‘In a book, in a relationship, in a day … if it was a good one, we want the next one to be the same as the last, but just different enough to keep things interesting.’
Calla digests that. ‘Sometimes, you really are wise.’
‘I am, aren’t I.’ Odelia smiles.
‘Anyway, my agent and editor and I agreed to disagree and part ways. And I’ve been going back and forth with this other agent who likes my idea, and he might want to represent me. We have a call scheduled for nine. I’ve been up since four, trying to pull together notes for the book idea.’
‘What’s it about?’
Calla winces. ‘I knew you were going to ask that. I’m not sure you’ll approve.’
‘Is it about the Slaytons?’
‘What? No! It’s about Lily Dale.’
‘So it’s … New Age? Historical?’
‘I’m not sure yet what it is, but I know what it isn’t. I have to trust my instincts. And speaking of trust – I think I know who Spirit was warning us about,’ Calla says. ‘She was right there when we were on the porch.’
‘Pandora?’
‘No! The woman on my flight. The one from Chicago.’
Yes. The one who’d checked into Valley View.