I gripped the armrests of my wingback rattan chair to force myself up into a less relaxed posture. “And what is it exactly about me that needs discussion?”

“I have no idea what your aunt is talking about,” Izzy said, forcing an overly bright smile to her face. “Have you tried the tea, darling?” She reached for a cut glass mug. “It’s a ginger and jasmine mix. I flavored it with honey, cloves, orange slices, blackberries, and just a touch of red pepper for heat.”

I eyed the tall pitcher filled with amber liquid sparkling in the slanted rays of the setting sun. Beside it sat a plate covered in freshly baked tarts with a ruby-colored filling.

“They’re raspberry,” Izzy prodded, following my gaze. “Your favorite.”

They looked delicious. I could practically feel the flaky crust breaking apart in my mouth. But we both knew those weren’t just any old tarts. I pinned my aunt in my gaze. Her eyes widened again, this time to unparalleled levels of innocence. It was pretty adorable. But I wasn’t about to be distracted by her cuteness. “Izzy? What is going on?”

“Oh, just tell her why you’ve dragged us out here,” Nora said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m about to spontaneously combust in all this golden sunlight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try the tea first, darling? Or the tarts?” Izzy asked hopefully.

I raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ll wait.”

My aunt sighed, then cleared her throat. “This wasn’t quite how I wanted to bring the subject up,” she said, cutting her sister a look. “But, well, Brynn, your aunt and I have noticed that you seem distracted lately. Like something might be bothering you.”

Was that all this was about? I chuckled with relief.

“And Izzy here has a theory on what that something might be,” Nora said with a sniff. “She also has some ideas about how to fix it.”

My chuckle died a swift death. My aunts speculating on my well-being was always disconcerting, but the idea of their fixing any of my theoretical problems was downright terrifying. Time to nip this in the bud. “You don’t have to come up with any theories. Or ways to fix anything.” I stared off into the endless sky beyond the sorbet-colored clouds. “And you don’t have to worry. I know I’ve been distracted lately, but I promise you it’s nothing.”

“What’s nothing?” Nora asked sharply.

I could feel her studying me, but I kept my gaze on the sky. “It’s hard to explain, but I’ve had this funny feeling lately. I think it’s the changing of the seasons. Spring fever maybe.”

In fairness, I could see why my aunts might be concerned. A few days ago, I had been kneading dough with Izzy, and she had caught me staring off into space. Apparently, I had been quite still for several minutes without realizing it. Then a day or two after that, I may have snipped the side of my finger with gardening shears helping Nora trim the dead branches off a rose bush. It was a little strange. I wasn’t normally so careless. When the feeling came on, it was almost like I had to stop everything I was doing, still all my senses, in order to pick up on whatever it was. It was like listening for a soft noise somewhere in the distance. Or trying to catch a faint scent on the breeze. It almost felt like something might be coming. But the funny thing was, as soon as I did focus on the sensation, the feeling would disappear, like it had never existed at all. Again, I had chalked it up to the season. What is spring if not the feeling of anticipation? I was sure it was nothing to worry about.