“It’s been decades,” Irene said. “I’m seeing someone else. I should be over this by now.” But even after all this time, Nate’s betrayal still stung.

“You—more than anyone—know how long healing takes,” Clem said.

It was a slow, messy, lifelong process of starving the roots of the pain, and even then, the grief didn’t always die. That’s what her family was there for, to pull those feelings free and ease that heartache. It was too bad a Haywood couldn’t take another Haywood’s suffering. Yes, Irene could’ve given up the worst moment of her relationship with Nate to the memory harvest, but she wanted to remember—needed to remember—not only what happened, but how that betrayal felt, so that she wouldn’t ever make the same mistake again.

“You lost a life with someone you loved,” Taylor said as she rubbed a hand against Irene’s upper back. “That kind of thing doesn’t go away on its own.”

Taylor might not have remembered how Nolan died, but it hadn’t made her any less a widow. In all that time, she’d never once asked Irene or Maura to take away her pain.

Irene shook her head as if that could get her out of her own feelings, and instead focused on her magic. Hyacinths bloomed in Taylor’s eyes, a clear picture of sorrow and grief, and it left Irene feeling even worse than before.

“Here I am complaining about having to spend an evening with Nate, and it’s twenty-five years since we lost Nolan,” Irene said, another pain she’d never gotten over. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve got a lot of love in my life. It helps.” Taylor pressed a kiss to Clem’s cheek, and lavender sprouted up to join the pale blue blossoms. “But I had a lot of love then, too. My grief is a loss, not a betrayal. Don’t worry about me.”

“That wouldn’t be very empathetic of me.” Irene gave a half-hearted laugh.

“Tonight, you get a pass,” Taylor said.

“What a mess this whole thing is,” Irene groaned. She’d much rather be back at the shop, curled up in one of the armchairs with a cup of lemon-balm tea and a book.

“Remember,” Clem said, “you’re doing this for Addison.”

“My mother would’ve never done something like this for me,” Irene said.

“Pretty sure she let you bring Nate to family dinner more than once,” Clem said.

“Nate, yes,” Irene said. “But to willingly eat at Sylvia’s house?”

“And yet now she’s here for your daughter,” Clem said. “Addison has made you both better people.”

“She may be the only good thing that came out of that summer,” Irene said.

Taylor looped one arm through Irene’s and looked up at the mansion. Fireflies hovered lazily. Taylor caught one with her free hand and offered it to Irene.