“The flowers grown in our backyard are special. Or maybe it’s the way the dishes made from them are prepared that makes them so special. They can affect the eater. You’re obviously immune. Or maybe she’s trying too hard, maybe that changes the way it works. I don’t know.”

Tyler looked at her incredulously. “She’s trying to make me not interested in her?”

“Which means you’re in already. Let me tell you something about Claire. She likes things that don’t go away. So don’t go away.”

Tyler leaned against the counter, as if for support, as if someone had pushed him there. For a moment Sydney wondered if she should have revealed something so personal about her sister. Claire obviously didn’t want him to know. But then Tyler smiled, and she knew she’d done the right thing. It had just been such a long time since she’d brought anyone any real happiness that she’d forgotten what it was like. Claire was doing so much for her. This was something she could give Claire. She could show her she could have happiness outside of what she knew. Happiness with Tyler. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

“Good.” Sydney looked away. The words of a good man could bring tears to a woman’s eyes. She envied Claire for this, for Tyler. She’d known a lot of men after she left Bascom, none of them good. She didn’t even think she’d know what to do with a good man now. “Drink up,” she said, turning away and walking around the kitchen.

Tyler lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip. “This is good. Unusual, but good.”

“Welcome to Claire’s world.”

“So what are your good memories?” he asked.

She walked to his nook, past the easels, and looked out the windows. “It’s so strange. My good memories are of this week. Everything in all my years of living, and this week has been the best week of my life. You?”

“It’s good wine, but I’m not getting anything. I’m just thinking of Claire.”

She smiled and drank some more. “You’re hopeless.”

CHAPTER

8

Bascom’s Fourth of July celebration was held every year on the square downtown. On the green by the fountain, families and church groups set up tables and canopies and brought food so everyone could sample delicacies, like a big potluck, before the fireworks display. Waverleys always brought honeysuckle wine so people could see in the dark, but, whether or not the town knew it, the wine also brought about a few revelations every Fourth of July. A side effect of being able to see in the dark, after all, is being aware of things you weren’t aware of before.

The Waverleys had a table off to the side—a most popular table, to be sure, but set apart from everyone else. Sydney fidgeted in her seat. Bay was over in the supervised children’s area, making paper hats and getting her face painted, so it was just Sydney and Claire and the honeysuckle hooch. People would quietly come by for small paper cups of honeysuckle wine, like it was somehow hallowed, and every once in a while the sheriff would stroll by and ask, “Now, this is nonalcoholic, right?”