“The hand is pointing for me to do exactly that and you know it.”

Ladybugs had been attracted to Irene’s daughter since she was an infant. Now, whenever they appeared in the leaves, they meant Addison. Irene knew this. The fern, a symbol of magic, spoke to the troubles Addison was having with the family gift. And the corn, a sign of bourbon, usually meant the Bonners, who ran the distillery that brought so many tourists to Yarrow.

“I don’t like it,” Irene huffed.

“You don’t have to,” Addison said. “But I can’t ignore it and turn her away.”

Irene pressed her eyes closed. Irises bloomed in Addison’s aura, and Irene couldn’t bring herself to crush the fragile hope building in her daughter. “You know your grams isn’t going to be happy about this.”

“Maybe the Bonners aren’t as terrible as you and Grams say.”

“The Bonners are exactly that terrible,” Irene said. “They offer this town empty magic, as if forgetting your darkest memory is the same as healing.”

“They offer magic our garden gave them through the dark corn,” Addison said. “Magic you willingly used that summer twenty-five years ago.”

“But that I didn’t use to forget the pain Nate Bonner caused me.”

“I’ve heard that story a hundred times,” Addison said.

“Clearly it hasn’t sunk in.” Irene took a seat in one of the armchairs and motioned for Addison to join her. She held her teacup in both hands and stared at her daughter over the rim. “If I’m going to agree to this, then let me remind you, once again, exactly what kind of people you’re doing business with.”

“Here we go…” Addison said.

1997 was supposed to be the start of my happy ending. I’d carved out my own bit of Yarrow, a little shop right on the town square, and the grand opening had been a success. Tomorrow would mark the unofficial start of summer, my favorite season of the year, and I wasn’t about to let a snail and a snake in the dregs of my tea take that from me, even if I couldn’t shake the twisting in the pit of my stomach. The snail—a sign of infidelity—I’d been seeing for almost a year, but I’d yet to find any proof that the reading was true. I’d been engaged to Nate for a full month, I was truly, deeply in love, and he was as faithful as the sunrise.

I was sure of it.

But if the symbols in my cup were to be believed, I was in for betrayal.