Vera’s head flicked around, taking it in, seeming shocked to find herself standing outside the basement. Then Max asked if she wanted to sit. She did.

“Does your mom own a yellow-and-white-striped sundress?” she asked.

What? Max’s head wrenched back. That was unexpected. “Um, yeah. Why?”

“I dreamt of her, wearing that dress.”

“Seriously?”

She turned to him, her hand resting on his shoulder. He liked that. “She was walking down Main Street, before all of this happened, and she looked beautiful.”

Her words scooped the air right out from inside him. Max stared at the dormant TV, their reflections displayed in the black glass.

“What was she doing? In the dream?” he asked.

“She was on her way to buy allergy medicine, for you and your sister. I’m not sure how I know that, but I do. Then she smelled lilies in the air.”

Max’s chest slumped. More lilies…

“The smell, it made her upset. I could feel it.” Vera twirled a lock of hair around a finger. “She saw the name of the shop, Durand Flowers, and she made the connection. You know, with the explosion?”

Max gritted his teeth. It was hard to forget the name of the family responsible for your father’s death. They bought the florist shop a couple years ago, and since then, Max had avoided it at all costs. But his mother held no ill will against them. In fact, when she joined the son’s self-help group, she told Max it was because it was connected to that family. She was inspired by their ability to keep going. She said Seth Durand’s mistake may have destroyed the soul of this town, but now his son was trying to heal it. If there was anyone out there who understood her pain, she believed it was Anatole Durand.

Max disagreed. Or maybe he simply held grudges.

“She was about to walk away, but then she saw a tiny Angel of Tears statue. It was part of a window display, and it was sitting atop a yellow book. I don’t know how the statue even caught her eye, it was so small, but your mom was drawn to it.” Vera yanked her hair, her head jerked down a bit. Max reached for her hand and pulled her fingers free, lacing them with his own. He told himself he was showing her that she could say the hard things and he wouldn’t get upset, but really he needed to touch her.

Max’s fingers clenched hers. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think the Sunshine Crew and the Angel of Tears are connected. Somehow. Maybe?” She pressed between her eyebrows, rubbing. “Or this is all bullshit, and my dreams are just dreams. I really don’t know!” Her voice cracked, desperation leaking in. “My aunt thinks I’m overreacting and my dreams are random Freudian textbook stuff. Meanwhile, my mom thinks I could be under the influence of the same demon that’s inside your mother. She’s acting like I’m getting too close.” She put air quotes around the words. “But neither of them feels right to me. And I just feel…messed up.”