A few hours later, Trevor, Luna, and I are huddled in the entryway of Half Moon Mill, watching Kristin and Mr. Yoon from across the room. It’s raining again, so the happy couple is entertaining themselves with Parcheesi. My stomach clenches.
“I hate being rude. How can we interrupt them?”
“What choice do we have?” Trevor murmurs. “They’re leaving for Paris on Monday for their honeymoon. It’s now or never.”
Luna clutches the business plan tightly. “Why couldn’t we have just won the lottery? This is mortifying.”
Alex passes by. Halts abruptly, then turns.
“Look who it is.” His slow, satisfied grin freezes when his eyes fall on Trevor. “Oh. You.”
“Yes, the son of the groom. Shocking of me to be here.”
“And me, colleague of the son of the groom.” Luna gives Alex a pointedly insincere smile, teeth bared.
His eyes flick to her, then back to Trevor. “Hello again, Luna.”
She makes an I am not impressed tsk. We all wait for Alex to go away, but he hangs tight, close enough to hear what we’re talking about. We decide to pretend he isn’t there.
“Beltane’s the ideal time for business ventures,” I remind my colleagues. I am All Business in my peach dress with ruffled sleeves and large pearl buttons. I reach up to adjust my hat, before remembering I’m not wearing one. I’m still wearing the flower crown Alex made.
“Right.” Trevor draws a bracing breath. The three of us link arms. “Let’s do this.”
Alex tails us over to Mr. Yoon. Trevor clears his throat twice before his father says, without looking up, “Would you like a drink of water?”
“I was—we were—we’re hoping to talk to you about a business proposal,” Trevor forces out.
Mr. Yoon is instantly guarded. “A business proposal.”
“Sir, if we could just have a few minutes of your time.” Luna slides a copy of the proposal in front of him. Kristin moves the Parcheesi board aside, her gaze conveying polite interest.
Mr. Yoon heaves a sigh, then begins to read. Flicks to the next page.
“You see, we purchased property—” I begin, but he holds up one finger. Continues to read.
“I seem to recall giving you a significant sum of money, Trevor,” Daniel says. “Surely you can use some of that?”
Trevor shrinks.
“Ah, yes, that would be impossible, because you’ve already spent it all. Stitch and Turn Shoe Emporium. Ken’s Barbecue.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Mighty Fitness. Two of them figuratively burned to the ground, one of them literally. You purchase properties without thinking, and that is why you find yourself in these unpleasant situations. If you had actually gone to business school—”
“I told you, I’m sorry. Everybody makes mistakes! Remember that golf course you opened?”
“The golf course situation was different. Nobody could have anticipated that many gophers. Anyway, your financial history is not my only hesitation here. Moonville’s famous love magic,” he recites, four pages later. “Pardon me if I don’t quite believe in that.”
“Sir?” I prompt nervously.
“It’s cute,” Mr. Yoon concedes. “I understand why local businesses keep that story alive; there’s money in it. But there is no such thing as a one true love.”
Luna pales. “I disagree.”
I bump the toe of her shoe with mine.
Mr. Yoon stacks his hands on the paper, creasing the page. It took us weeks to fine-tune this, and our dream is currently sopping up water pooling around the base of his drink, a grayish ring right over The Magick Happens is a favorite stop with tourists hoping for . . . “Do you see this woman?” He reaches for Kristin’s hand. She lays her palm up for him. “She lost her husband many years ago. She loved him. I lost my wife, too, and I loved her. But Kristin and I love each other also. There is no such thing as a one true love, because one can have many loves.”
I lower my head. “You’re absolutely right. I think what we mean to say, is that Moonville has a special way of revealing the person you’re meant to be with here in this moment, in your present stage of life.”
“Exactly,” Trevor inserts smoothly. “It’s a whole thing. And the candles and flowers do that, too. They create a road of clarity, which leads you to the person you’re meant to be with.” He is speaking verbatim from the proposal.
“Is that what you two are to each other?” Mr. Yoon inquires seriously, his black eyes switching back and forth between Trevor and me. “You are meant to be?”
I can’t help glancing at Kristin. It’s a mistake.
It’s that damned windbreaker tripping my nostalgia land mines: This is the woman who paid for my homecoming dress junior year, who helped me apply for scholarships, who baked a three-tier birthday cake when I turned eighteen, who gave me a ride to the doctor when I missed three days of school with a fever that peaked at a hundred and four. Afterward, she took me to her house instead of mine, tucked me into her queen bed with the soft white comforter, and lay beside me while we watched TV Land. Maybe it’s wrong to say, but I loved her more than my own mother. I cannot lie to her face.
I look down at my shoes, reflecting sunlight peeking through the forest beyond the windows, allowing Trevor to answer. “Yes.”
What other choice does he have, but to say that? We sell romance. It stands to reason that Luna and I both ought to have been happily paired off with our meant-to-be’s long ago. And perhaps Luna would be, if Grandma had never uttered a word about silver luna moths, which she’s been holding out for. As for myself, I just haven’t met anyone who wanted to hold on to me, or who I wanted to hold on to. Zelda at least has the comfort of not believing in soulmates. She doesn’t believe in prophecies, either. Or magic.
Mr. Yoon stares into my eyes. Kristin’s gaze is fixed on a spot right behind me. “I’ll think on it,” he says crisply.
He stands up, grimacing. Grabs a newspaper. “Excuse me.” He nods at us as he leaves, left leg limping. The packet we gave him is left on the table.
Luna, Trevor, and I exchange worried frowns. We’re all trying to hog the blame for this—Trevor’s the one who cut the check and waived the inspection; I’m the one who suggested we buy the lot because I needed room; and Luna is usually the voice of reason who talks us out of risky ideas, but she encouraged us to go for it because she feels guilty that her candles take up most of the store.
I’m the first to break the silence. “That didn’t go so great.” It’s probably time to face the music: We are not going to be able to fix the sewer line and asphalt in time to put up the night market, and if we want to be able to pay ourselves, we might have to resell the lot, probably at a loss. Which means no expansion, and I’ll need to cull my plants to make the magical climate bearable again.
“He didn’t say no, though.” Trevor begins to loosen up. “That’s a good sign, trust me. We’ve got a shot.”
Alex leans in, lips close to my ear. “Meant to be? And you don’t know his middle name?”
“Mind your business,” I hiss.
“I think I see your angle here.” His eyes dance. “I underestimated you.”
I glare. He breezes a short distance away, whistling.
“Your business plan looks very nice,” Kristin tells us diplomatically, sparing an extra twinkly smile for Trevor. “You did a good job!”
I think I speak for Trevor and Luna when I say that this compliment makes us feel about six years old.
“Thank you, Kristin. Excuse me.” Luna pulls out her phone, checking the barrage of missed messages from Zelda. Zel keeps complaining that she’s out of the loop. Secretly, Luna and I are hoping she’ll grow so exasperated with her out-of-the-loop-ness that she’ll decide to remedy it by visiting. She rarely ever comes to Moonville—the last time she was in Ohio was for Grandma’s Celebration of Life.
Zelda is like a water sprite: elusive, mercurial, and deeply private; most comfortable in solitary darkness but easily lured by something sparkly. We do this dance where Zelda invites us to wherever she’s living, and Luna and I invite her to Moonville instead, and we end up putting off vacation for another year.
Alex drops several boxes onto a table, which I recognize straightaway as my favorite board games.
Wait a minute.
Those are my games! The Monopoly lid is taped together, and I’d recognize that Hungry Hungry Hippos anywhere. It’s covered in a child’s marker scribble.
“Hey!” I shout. “You took those from my house!”
Alex doesn’t acknowledge me. “Memory Mayhem?” he suggests to his and Trevor’s relatives, holding a red box aloft. Then he lifts another box, balancing them like the scales of justice. “Fact Carnivore?”
“Fuck you,” three different people reply.
“There’s no guarantee I’ll win.” He can’t keep a straight face as he says this. “Fine, you bunch of babies. Here’s one I don’t have an advantage in: The Newlywed Game.”
I squint. “I don’t have that game.”
The expression he turns on me is unreasonably snobbish. “I printed it off. Downloadable questions.”
I’m immediately suspicious. Alex never brings a game to the table unless he believes he’ll win and is a sore loser on the rare occasion that he fails. Such a sore loser, in fact, that he’ll nurse a grudge forever.
“Not all of us are newlyweds,” Allison deadpans. “Or dating anyone.”
“I think these questions can apply to all relationships,” Alex says. “Pair up with whoever you feel you’re closest to.”
“Bet you’ve already memorized the questions,” I tell him. “Not fair.”
“I’m not playing. I’m hosting.” He takes an unnecessarily out-of-the-way route to a particular table, just so he can skirt by me and whisper in my ear. “Thought I’d give others a chance to show what they know.”
“Whoever we’re closest to,” Kristin repeats. Points at herself, then at her husband-to-be, who’s standing along a wall and hiding behind his newspaper. “Okay, so Allison and Teyonna. Me and Daniel. Trevor and Romina. Or maybe Romina and Luna?”
My sister is talking on her phone, too far away to hear us.
I clutch my purse. “Afraid I can’t join you. I should go back to work.”
“Sit,” Alex replies cheerfully, prodding me into a chair. He pushes it in, looping my purse handle around the back.
“I don’t have the time.” I shoot Trevor frantic glances that he is totally oblivious to, clicking and unclicking the pen Alex passed him.
“Trevor, don’t you think you and Romina deserve a break from working?” Alex says to him.
“What? Yeah.” Trevor laughs at my alarm. “We work too much. Got to get that R & R, baby.” He taps my nose.
Alex drops a card in front of me, littered with questions and spaces left blank for filling in answers. Winks. Winks! “Have fun.”