Back in Charvan, I try to let its familiar comforts soak into me. I’ve done a lot to make this van our safe space: repainting it navy blue and white, refurbishing two rows of bucket seats up front, commissioning a built-in bench and table as a reading room in the back. There’s a plush rug and several crammed bookshelves under the bench, but both are currently blocked by mounds of luggage. I’d be lying if I said this clutter didn’t stress me out a little, but at least the linen curtains remain visible, tied with ropes and lit warmly by the string lights hung inside the roof’s rim.

Charvan is indeed the ideal chariot for our trip, but after what we just learned, even its familiar interior feels foreign. I’m not sure where to begin.

“Is everyone thinking what I’m thinking?” Amelia says first. “That we have to find the missing cards? I mean, what if my grandma had this whole secret tarot life?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” I reply. “Even if Maggie was telling us the truth, Gran Flo could still also be telling the truth about where she bought the deck.”

“Maybe, but how likely is that? This has to be a way to get to know her more,” Amelia says. “Besides, learning more about the deck was the whole point of this trip.”

“I thought the point was us spending time together before college?” Cleo says.

“Of course, and we can still do both,” Amelia replies. “But, come on! This turned out to be so much more interesting than we ever could have hoped! A real-life tarot mystery adventure?”

“Amelia, no offense, but this sounds like a wild goose chase more than anything else,” Cleo says. “We have no idea what we’re really wading into here.”

“What could possibly be dangerous about looking for some missing cards?”

“Uh, the people who think it’s so special. They sound intense. I mean, didn’t that Maggie guy kind of straight-up threaten us before we left?”

“Now who’s being dramatic, Cleo?”

“I never said you were being dramatic, Amelia!”

“Well, I’m sure this comes as a surprise to no one,” Logan interjects, “but I’m always down for an adventure. Besides, how can we argue with the signs here? I think we’re meant to at least try.”

I brace myself for Amelia to engage with Logan on his reasoning. These two disagree about some pretty fundamental stuff when it comes to what’s meant to be. Amelia believes that life is random, but Logan just as firmly believes there are signs pointing us where we need to go.

“Then that makes the vote two to one,” Amelia says, turning directly to me—and leaving me dead in the middle, as usual. “Chase?”