“We’re estranged. I haven’t seen him for years. Don’t plan to, either.” She lets the bold statement sink in. “He and my mother had an ugly divorce, and I can’t ever forgive him for some of the things he did to her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that too.” I try to hide my disappointment within my condolences.

“Aw, it’s just life. We got this place in the end, which was a victory.”

“So you’re up for the summer, then?” I ask, trying at some friendly conversation.

“I’m here through most of the year, not just summers. Moved up after my mom died. Just me and Solomon.” She points at the black cat, who’s now lying in a patch of sunlight on the rug. “I do Reiki treatments and tarot readings from May to January, then take off for a few months of travel. Get some beach time in, if you know what I mean.”

It seems unimaginable to me, but I nod my head anyway and smile. “Well, I’m sorry to have barged in on you, and I know you have a twelve thirty, so I’ll just leave you be.” I turn toward the door.

“You’re looking for answers,” she says, stopping me in my tracks. “I’m a bit psychic,” she explains. “Come sit down and have a cup of tea. I have some time before my client arrives.” Again she disappears from the room, expecting me to just follow.

It wouldn’t be hard to deduce that I came here for answers, since I was looking for her parents, but something about her is intriguing, which is what compels me to follow her into the kitchen.

I pause in the doorway, not sure where I’ll fit in the chaotic clutter of the room. The sink is full of dirty dishes, the counter is packed with jars and the kitchen table with books, and every other free surface holds a plant. There are even plants hanging from the ceiling, creating an overwhelming rain forest vibe.

“Go on out to the screened-in porch,” she instructs, while filling the kettle with water. “I’ll bring the tea out there where it’s not so busy.”

Busy is an understatement, I think to myself as I leave the kitchen for the porch. I’m relieved to see that it’s exactly how I remember it as a child—white wicker furniture with down cushions covered in chintz. There were more than a few afternoons where I sat with my mother on this porch while she and Mrs. Swann drank gin and tonics and gossiped about the other cottagers on the lake. I move a pile of newspapers to the floor and sink down into one of the chairs.