“Okay, okay. Backing off,” she says, giving me a gentle smile. “It’s just that you haven’t taken any photos in a week, and that makes me worry.”

“That’s not about Lucky,” I say, tying up the trash bag.

“Right. I was afraid of that.” Mom exhales heavily and folds up the end-of-day paperwork. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t told you the truth about Henry Zabka.”

“Nope. That’s the best thing you’ve told me in years.” It’s just not the easiest hurdle to jump. I wake up thinking I’m past it, then I realize I’m still bitter.

Evie emerges from the stockroom with a handful of mermaid pens and says, “You know what? My dad was a good man, and I miss him every day. If Josie needs to miss the idea of a father that she thought she had, then I think that’s okay. Mourn away. But eventually, you’re going to have to make peace with it.” She shrugs loosely. “That’s a little free advice from Madame Evie the Great, straight from the beyond. The spirits say give yourself a break, lady.”

Mom and I stare at her. Madame Evie’s been giving out a lot of free advice lately. Maybe getting rid of Adrian unburdened her.

“What’s wrong with the stool?” Evie says, frowning as she balances over it to refill the mermaid pens near the register. “Something’s different. Wait … where’s the squeak?”

Mom laughs. “It’s a different stool.”

Evie leans down to peer between her legs, a cascade of dark hair flipping over and back as she pops back up. Her freckles darken around her Cleopatra makeup. “What the hell? When did this happen?”

“This morning. It was a gift.”

I take a second look at the stool. Clean lines. Simple construction …

Lucky.

Mom feigns innocence, and I don’t say anything. I can’t. What’s this weird fluttering feeling in my ribcage? Oh, right. The bats are back. Hundreds of emotional bats flapping inside the hollow cave of my chest. I don’t know why Lucky would make a piece of furniture for the store, but it feels overly generous. Too personal. Like a bandage being ripped off a wound way too soon.

Or maybe I’ve just contracted rabies.

“You okay?” Mom asks.

“Am I up to date on my vaccinations?”

Mom’s face scrunches up “What?”

“Never mind,” I mumble.