“I’m not,” Addison said as she huffed and pulled up another weed, “in a state.”

Maura arched her eyebrow as a cicada landed on the banister.

With a heavy sigh, Addison sat back on her heels. “River was there.”

Maura poured Addison a glass of lemonade. Addison wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaving a trail of dirt along her skin. She brushed her hands on her overalls and started up the front steps.

“It’s not your fault what happened to him,” Maura said as she lifted the straw hat from her head and settled down in one of the front porch rockers.

Addison had heard this before—from both her grams and her mom.

“There’s no one else to blame,” Addison said. “It was my magic that broke him.”

“It was Haywood magic,” Maura said.

“Not like yours,” Addison said. “If I had yours…”

“You’re not me. And you’re not your mother.”

“I’m only fit to work in the garden. I know that now.”

“You work the garden because it likes you better than it likes either of us,” Maura said.

Addison sipped her lemonade. “At least someone likes me.”

Maura set her glass down beside her and leaned forward in her chair. “We’re proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Addison tipped her head back. “When mom was my age, she had a two-year-old and a successful tea shop. When you were my age—”

“I had two children and the whole town coming to my door to take away their pain.”

Maura flashed her a grin, and Addison let out a small laugh as she tried to ignore the tears welling in her eyes. “I should be further along. I should have something of my own by now.”

“You’re twenty-four.”

“And?” Addison said.

“Who do you think is going to manage all this when I’m too old to bend over and pull the weeds myself?” Maura asked. “I didn’t entrust the garden to you because you can’t heal people as well as your mother and I can. I entrusted it to you because you belong here, beneath the sun, not trapped behind the walls of a brick building.”

“If my tea leaves are right, selling that rosemary…” She paused as her grandmother stiffened in the chair beside her, and decided against mentioning Sylvia. “I might finally figure out what’s wrong with my magic.”

“You’re not the only one whose tea leaves are bringing unwanted guests to our door,” Maura said.

“Guests?” Addison asked.

“Your mother’s invited someone for family dinner,” Maura said.

Addison’s eyebrows shot up. “Someone we know? Or… a visitor?”

Maura crossed her arms. “I see she told you about her tea leaves.”

“Yet you know about them, too,” Addison said.

“Because she brought him here.” She clucked her tongue. “A Bonner.”

“How?” Addison asked. She’d been with the Bonners all afternoon.