turn,” Bella says, pulling on Dean’s sleeve.
He puts a quarter into the fortune-teller machine. The turbaned gypsy inside moves her hands over a crystal ball. A paper fortune drops from a slot. Kelsey picks it up and reads it aloud.
“You like to be admired, and it pleases you greatly to have people come to you for information and advice, but your stubborn nature will be your downfall.” She laughs.
“I could have told that fortune,” I remark.
“That’s not a fortune.” Dean looks disgruntled. “That’s a character analysis.”
“Uncle Archer, your turn,” Nicholas calls.
Archer approaches, holding out a hand to Kelsey for a quarter. He puts the coin in the slot and reaches for the fortune that drops from the crystal ball.
He hands it to Nicholas. Nicholas studies the fortune, then haltingly reads:
There once was a girl who loved rain
And who had an incredible brain.
But she kept saying no
To a boy all aglow
So clearly that girl was insane.
Nicholas looks up. “What kind of fortune is this?”
“I like rain too,” Bella announces.
I glance from Archer to Kelsey. He looks proud of himself, like he just pulled off the heist of the century. Her expression is one of both awe and disbelief.
“I don’t get it,” Nicholas says loudly, waving the fortune in the air.
Archer steps forward and leans close to Kelsey, whispering something into her ear. She takes hold of his jaw and stands on tiptoe to whisper back.
“Is that a yes?” I ask.
They separate but don’t take their eyes off each other.
“No,” Kelsey says.
Archer doesn’t look annoyed or even upset. If anything, he looks amused before he leans in to plant a kiss on her lips.
“I still don’t get it,” Nicholas says.
“Neither do I, man,” Dean mutters.
“Your turn, Mommy.” Bella pats my arm.
I take a quarter out of my purse and put it into the fortune-teller machine slot. For some reason, my stomach tightens with nerves as the gypsy waves her hands over the crystal ball, her painted eyes unblinking.
The fortune drops from the machine. I pick up the paper and read it, then glance at Dean. He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Warmth swirls through me, dissolving the cold anxiety.
“Can I see?” Bella asks.
I hand her the note. Nicholas peers over her shoulder to read it.
“I like the cup,” Bella says.
Nicholas shakes his head. “I still don’t get it.”
I look at my husband and say, “I do.”
Chapter 26
Olivia
For Christmas, Dean gives me a large, perfect snow globe containing a miniature scene of our living room with four figures seated on the sofa.
There’s a tall, dark-haired man, a woman with long hair holding a cupcake, a boy building a tiny Lego sculpture, and a girl hugging a stuffed owl. We put the snow globe on the kitchen table so it’s close to us all the time, a reminder of what and who we are as a family.
Because of it, our holiday is one of warmth and belonging. Though I’m unable to do everything I’d intended, we attend several town events, including a performance of The Nutcracker, and spend a lot of time at home watching movies and playing games. I return to working at the Wonderland Café, and the constant flow of activity helps keep my simmering apprehension at bay.
Although I knew chemotherapy would be inevitable after the pathology results, it’s still painful to get the details and schedule from Dr. Anderson. Eight rounds of chemo, each two weeks apart. It’s still scary to think of being injected by toxic drugs that are supposed to help me by making me even sicker.
A postcard from North arrives right before the new year—with a picture of the sun setting over a beach boardwalk lit with colorful lights. I turn it over to find a single word scrawled on the back:
Home.
My heart stutters. After all these years, North is back at Twelve Oaks. And though I still love to think of him on walkabout, the knowledge that he’s home, back at the place where I discovered there really were safe havens in the world, floods me with a new sense of comfort and security. If North is back where he belongs, then surely everything will turn out fine.
I keep that in mind as I gather the courage to tell Allie about my scheduled chemotherapy and my intention to continue working at the café as much as I can. Unfortunately, her response is heartbreakingly unsurprising.
“That’s not a good idea, Liv.” She keeps her gaze on the office computer screen. “In fact, it’s a really bad idea.