“I was having lemonade with Sylvia and Addison,” she said. “I think I left my bag down there. I was just going to go grab it.”

Alexis pressed her lips thin. “In the sipping room?”

Quinn nodded.

“I’m not supposed to allow anyone in there. I’m not even allowed in there.”

“My keys are in my bag…” Quinn said.

Alexis glanced around them. “Go,” she said. “But hurry.”

Quinn flipped on the light and quietly shut the door. Her head still throbbed but not enough to stop her from taking the stairs in twos.

She went straight for the bottom-right corner of the shelf, searching for the bottle marked 1997. There was more than one, but only one that looked like it had recently been opened. She tugged it from its place and turned it over in her hands. Below the year, the bottle was named, as all Bonner bourbons were.

It said, Irene.

Quinn’s eyes widened. She picked up the one next to it. Kaden. And the next. Maura. There was one for each of her moms as well. She grabbed her bag and wrapped as many as she could in her towel to keep them from clinking. Then she fished her keys from her front pocket and started up the stairs.

Alexis stood keeping watch at the door. She eyed Quinn’s bag.

“We’re heading out to the river today,” Quinn said. “Harper’s going to kill me if I’m late. Thanks!”

Alexis nodded and said, “Have fun. I’d much rather have my feet in the water than be stuck here.”

By the time Quinn got back to her car, some of the pain in her head had subsided. She tried to sort through their conversation—Sylvia’s insistence they forget about the cornfield, her desire to get Addison into the shadow garden. Quinn didn’t know what had happened in there, but she had the most important thing of all: the memories Addison had promised her.

She considered all the bottles in her bag and ultimately chose Taylor’s. She lifted the cap and took a sip. Her body tingled, like it was just waking up after falling asleep. It started on her tongue, then spread down her throat until it reached the tips of her fingers and toes.

Then it stopped.

Her heart sank.

She blinked her eyes open.

“Well, that didn’t work,” she murmured.

But Sylvia had steered her away from the bottles, tried to get her to forget about the bourbon—and there was no way the names were a coincidence. Quinn tapped her free hand against the steering wheel. The shadow garden magic had no effect on her. Maybe she was resistant to whatever had stored the memories in the bottle, too.

There was only one way to find out.

She dialed her mom and put the phone on speaker.

“Quinn?” Taylor said after the third ring.