I was suddenly aware that I probably looked a whole mess and quickly tried to find something to check my reflection in. I took out my phone and pretended to read my email as I flipped on the front-facing camera. As soon as I caught sight of myself, I wanted to smash my phone on the ground and disappear into the fuckin’ ether. Of course this beautiful girl showed up right when I was at my most busted. I sighed. It was too late to do anything about it now.

“That was you outside the other night,” I said. I kept my voice low so Mom and Mo wouldn’t hear. “You scared my parents.”

She smiled like it was funny. “Not the reaction I was hoping for.”

“You stand outside of a stranger’s house in the dark, you’re probably gonna scare somebody.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said softly. “It’s been a while since the shop was open. I heard a new family moved in, so I came to see. But you’re not a new family after all, are you?”

“Wanna tell me what that’s supposed to mean?” I asked. I scanned the shelf and spotted the jar with the comfrey near the top. I slid the ladder in place and climbed up to grab it.

“You’re related to Circe.” She was suddenly at the base of the ladder holding it steady with one hand. “I can see that by looking at you. Do you mind if I ask how?”

“Her sister, Selene, was my birth mother.”

She made a noise like a cough, but when I looked, she stood stoic, thoughtful. I climbed down and set the jar on the counter as she walked to the opposite side.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Of course.”

Again, something about her struck me. She was pretty—no. More than that. She was beautiful. But it wasn’t just that. I shook my head. “Uh, sorry—I lost my train of thought.”

She shrugged. “It happens.”

I scrambled to think of what I’d meant to ask her. “There are stores—you know, online—that sell most of this stuff.”

“I don’t want to buy it online, and nobody else does either.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I don’t know the people selling it,” she said flatly. “I have no idea what they intended when they cultivated the plants.”

“Is that important? The intent of the person handling them?”

“More than anything.” She glanced at the wall of glass jars, then set her hands on the counter, leaning in. “I read a study once. It said that if you have a plant and talk to it like you love it, it’ll grow faster, bigger. But if you keep a plant and talk down to it, insult it, it will wither and die.”