“Are you, now? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with him.”

“I don’t. These are special dishes.”

“A love potion?”

“There’s no such thing as a love potion.”

“You’re not going to poison him, are you?”

“Of course not. But the flowers in our garden…” Claire paused. “Maybe I can make him less interested.”

That made Sydney laugh, but she didn’t say a word. She knew a lot about men, but making them less interested had never been her specialty. Leave it to Claire to make it hers.

Bay stretched out on the grass, the sun on her face. The things that happened even a week ago were fading in her mind, like the way the color pink faded until it was almost white and you couldn’t believe it was ever pink once. What color were her father’s eyes? How many steps were there from their old house to the sidewalk? She couldn’t remember.

Bay knew all along that they were going to leave Seattle. She never told her mother this, because it was too hard to explain and she didn’t understand it fully herself. They just didn’t belong there, and Bay knew where things belonged. Sometimes, when her mother would put things away at their old house, Bay would sneak in later and put the things where she knew her father wanted them to be. Her mother would put his socks in his sock drawer, but Bay would know that when he got home he would want them in the closet with his shoes. Or when her mother would put the socks with his shoes, Bay would know when that would make him mad, and she’d put them in the drawer. But sometimes his desires changed so quickly that Bay couldn’t keep up with them, and he’d yell and do bad things to her mother. It had been exhausting, and she was glad to be someplace it was clear where things belonged. Utensils were always in the drawer to the left of the sink. Linens were always put in the closet at the top of the stairs. Claire never changed her mind about where things went.

Bay had dreamed of this place a long time ago. She’d known they were coming here. But today Bay was lying in the garden trying to figure out what was missing. In the dream she was stretched out on the grass in this garden, by this apple tree. The grass was soft like in her dream. And the scent of the herbs and flowers was exactly like in the dream. But in her dream there were rainbows and tiny specks of light on her face, like something sparkling above her. And there was supposed to be the sound of something like paper flapping in the wind, but the only sound around was the rustling of the leaves on the apple tree as it dropped apples around her.

An apple hit her leg, and Bay opened one eye to look up at the tree. It kept dropping apples on her, almost like it wanted to play.