One hand raised to shade her eyes, Auntie Catherine grabbed the open edge of Charlie’s jacket with the other, her grip strong enough that her fingers dimpled the leather. “I find it interesting that mentioning hope leads you to Jack. And Jack, if anyone, should understand trouble with relatives.”

“I’m betting Auntie Bea has the courtyard staked out, waiting for me to come back.” Charlie refused to be drawn into a discussion of Jack and hope because there wasn’t any. Nor was she going to mess up the fragile relationship they’d managed to balance between friendship and the happily ever after they couldn’t have by talking about it with Auntie Catherine. “Can you take me through the mirror in his room?”

“Alysha has me blocked. I can’t get into Calgary.”

That wasn’t a no. “You don’t need to. Just point me in the right direction and give me a shove.”

She smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt. “Alysha will know you’re back.”

Still not a no. “I’m not worried about Allie.”

“Given the block, it’s possible that the others will feel the way open and once they’ve pinpointed the location . . .”

“I won’t linger.” Charlie took a deep breath and was very, very careful not to let anything that might possibly be considered coercion leak into her voice. “Please, Auntie Catherine.”

“Why not. I have nothing planned until Friday.” I want to help, but I’ll be damned if I let you see that.

Charlie pretended she didn’t hear the subtext. Safer that way.

Tossing her braid over her shoulder, Auntie Catherine stretched, slipped into the Italian leather sandals sitting beside the lounge, and walked to the edge of the pool. “I’ll meet you in the Wood.”

Then she stepped into the water.

And disappeared.

“Okay . . .” Charlie picked up her guitar and stepped back into the ornamental border. “. . . that was unexpected.”

“It’s a reflective surface, Charlotte.” Auntie Catherine looked wilder in the Wood. And completely dry. “If I can be Seen, I can pass through it.”

“Then you didn’t need the viburnum you planted in the courtyard,” Charlie realized.

“I knew that before I got to Calgary.”

“Why were they . . .”

“For you, of course.” The idiot was too obvious to qualify as subtext. “Now, let’s go reassure your dragon.”

His name. Charlie’s voice. Jack snapped from sleep into full consciousness.

“Whoa! Flame down, kiddo.”

“Sorry. I thought . . .” Actually, he didn’t know what he’d thought. Suspected he hadn’t. Reaching out, he repaired the sleeve of her jacket and the edge of the gig bag. “How long was I out?”

“Not very long. A couple of hours.”

“Okay, that explains why I still feel like I belly flopped off a cliff. Onto gravel.” He shuffled back, using his elbows to squash the pillows into shape behind him. “What’s wrong?”