Addison took the seat across from Sylvia—her grandmother; she still hadn’t fully wrapped her head around that—and accepted a glass of lemonade. The first sip hit her mouth with a bit of a burn.

“Is this spiked?” Addison asked.

Sylvia gave her a sly smile. “We are in the middle of the bourbon festival. I hope that’s all right. It’s Bonner’s, of course.”

Quinn grimaced.

“Please,” Sylvia said. “I insist.”

“Sure,” Quinn said. She pressed the glass to her lips with a look at Addison that said, quite clearly, I’m doing this for you.

Addison proceeded to explain what the plants had shown her, careful not to mention the wilting and the garden’s attack. She and Sylvia might be related, but as upset as Addison was with her grams, Maura was right. The Bonners were trying to steal their land, and while Sylvia might’ve claimed she’d stop her son, Addison didn’t have any real reason to believe her.

“You say all of this happened after you pulled River’s pain from the garden?” Sylvia asked.

“It started before that, when it showed me something similar—that was the first time I felt like the garden itself was in pain,” Addison said. “But yeah, after what I did with River, I saw your cornfield again. I’d like to go out there myself, to see if I can find the spot from my vision. You said the corn was weak. It’s got to be connected.”

Sylvia shook her head. “It’s weaker, but we haven’t seen anything like what you’re describing. It sounds to me like the problem is in the shadow garden itself.”

“Then why would the garden show Addison the cornfield?” Quinn asked.

Addison set her cup down on the table. “Can we go out there right now? I want to get this figured out before things get any further with the city council.”

Sylvia sipped her lemonade slowly. Addison bit her lip. Maybe this had been a mistake. Sylvia had her own interests as far as the shadow garden went. At the end of the day, the distillery was hers. Would discovering Addison was her granddaughter really trump all that?

Sylvia topped off Addison’s drink. “Maybe we should forget about the cornfield for now, hmm?”

Addison blinked, her chest growing warm. She exhaled, softly, and tilted her head as a puff of air rose from her lips—dark, like smoke. She glanced down at the bourbon in her hand, then back up at Sylvia. “What were you saying?”

“Perhaps you could use your magic to heal the shadow garden,” Sylvia suggested.

“Don’t you have to find the root of the pain to heal it?” Quinn asked. “What if the root of whatever is wrong with the soil is in the cornfield?”

Sylvia glanced at Quinn with one eyebrow raised.