“I’m very good at meditating!” Daisy snapped. A heavy lid slammed down on her instinct to reveal more. The Ceremony of Sharing was sacred and not to be discussed with anyone outside the Brethren.

“All right, Daisy, no need to take that tone with me.” Granny huffed, then added, “Sounds like you could do with a bit of meditation now, if you ask me.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t.”

“Daisy!” There was a crash, as if a drawer had been slammed shut on the other end of the phone.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Normally Daisy would have been the one to break the deadlock. She didn’t like confrontation, especially not when it came to Granny, with whom she’d always had a very peaceful relationship. But she didn’t like anyone questioning her too much about the Brethren of Zoise.

Reaching out, Daisy knocked twice on the wall.

“That’s Susan!” she said in a forcibly bright voice. “I’d better be going . . .”

“Daisy, is everything all—”

“Love you, Granny. Bye!” Daisy tapped the end call button as fast as she could and stared straight ahead at her yoga robe hanging on her wardrobe door, the magical Eyes of Zoise staring right back at her. Reaching into the nearby bag, Daisy shoveled in a second cookie.

When Granny’s number flashed back up on her phone, Daisy was in Xena Warrior Pose, earbuds in, bathed in the Zounds of Zoise. After three more calls, Granny gave up.

“Do you think Daisy’s acting a bit . . . weird?” Susan asked when she and Esther were walking back from the supermarket.

“Yes.” There was no arguing it, really. The times Esther had seen Daisy over the last few days, her behavior had been distinctly odd. For a start, she’d stopped cleaning the communal kitchen, which meant Esther had picked up the slack, and now no one knew where anything was—including Esther. Then there was all the chanting that Esther heard through the walls and so much herbal tea . . .

“I think it’s all that yoga,” Susan said.

Esther snorted. “You think any form of exercise is suspicious.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t just things with Daisy that were awkward. After open mic night, Esther had the impression that Susan was holding something back. Not that Esther wasn’t holding something back, too: a desperate need to gossip about McGraw. Was their feud really forgotten? Was he . . . forgiven?

But she didn’t want to ask; she wanted to be told. She was giving Susan a chance to prove that things really had changed since the home-friends debacle. That Susan was allowing Esther and Daisy to get to know her on her own terms.

Sometimes, Esther wasn’t so sure.