“You see anything good?” Bonita asked.
“Nope, nothing,” Cordelia said, smiling blithely. She glanced at her phone. It was eleven a.m., surely that was within the acceptable ice cream-eating hours.
“So can I order my own ice cream here, or does the proprietress order for me?” Cordelia asked.
“You pick your own,” Bonita said. “But you can’t go wrong with Sonja’s Always Right Strawberry Shortcake.”
“She made one suggestion for the recipe,” Ingrid grumbled. “I never should have made that bet.”
“You bet against Sonja?” Cordelia gasped.
Ingrid glowered back at her. “Do you want ice cream?”
“Don’t endanger your access to this ice cream, hon.” Bonita raised her half-empty cup. “I ordered mine with bananas, so it’s technically a salad.”
“I’ve told you before, that’s not how it works,” Ingrid replied.
“I think I’ll go with the Fairy-Made Fudge Pecan,” Cordelia said.
“Thank you. Otherwise, I have to put a quarter in the ‘Sonja is always right’ jar,” Ingrid said, scooping up Cordelia’s order.
Bonita motioned for her to sit with her. Cordelia dipped her spoon into the soft, creamy dessert. She groaned, letting the sweet, nutty flavor melt over her tongue. “What is it with this town and desserts?”
“Wait until the mamas start baking competitively for your attention,” Bonita said, scraping the side of her own cup. “So, it’s not that I mind company on my morning ice cream break, but I suspect there’s a reason you came looking for me.”
“Well, not really, I just happened to spot you, which is a wonderful coincidence, because I do happen to have a touch-know question for you, if you don’t mind.”
Bonita’s expression was pleased. “I have always wanted someone to have this sort of girl-talk with, but I only had boys. Don’t get me wrong. I love them and all, but not one of them has the touch. I am open to all questions, shoot.”
“Have you ever had a vision that showed up outside of your head?” Cordelia asked.
Bonita pursed her lips and after much consideration, replied, “No, can’t say that I have.”
Cordelia’s shoulders slumped. She’d hoped that Bonita would be able to provide some reasonable alternative explanation to “your mother is haunting your backyard.” She really wanted to believe her backyard was Bernadette-free.
“Care to give me a little more detail?” Bonita waved her hand in a prompting manner.
“I saw something that shouldn’t be possible. Someone I haven’t seen in years and shouldn’t be anywhere near Mystic Bayou. But I saw them, standing outside my window, staring at me,” Cordelia said.
“Well, have you seen this person before in ‘real life,’ or have you only seen them in a vision?” Bonita asked.
“I knew her extensively in ‘real life,’ unfortunately for me,” Cordelia muttered. “And I’d have a vision of her every once in a while, when I was a kid, but I haven’t for years. I haven’t seen her in person in ten years. Does it make any sense for an old vision to pop up, outside of my head?”
“It can, if you’re in a state of emotional turmoil. It’s never happened before?” Bonita asked.
Cordelia shook her head. “Generally, all of my visions stay in my head, where they belong. I thought maybe it could have something to do with me getting too close to the rift?”
Bonita frowned, gray brows slanting together. “That could be it. I stay as far away from Afarpiece Swamp as I can get.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m going to do the same,” Cordelia sighed into her ice cream. “Professional obligations and all that.”
“I suppose that would be a problem,” Bonita said, nodding. “If it happens again, take note of the time, the conditions, what happened right before, etc. We’ll try to figure out if there are patterns. And remember your mind palace. I want you to start working on that as soon as you can. Maybe if you tuck all those visions away in their little apartments, they won’t be popping up where you don’t want them.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that,” Cordelia said.
It meant a lot to her, that Bonita was willing to help. She’d never had that before, any sort of mentorship with her gift. It was the least alone she’d felt in years.
Cordelia glanced out the window and saw Zed jogging toward the ice cream shop. She had no idea how he managed to run with those huge strides in blue jeans and motorcycle boots. His long dark hair was flowing in the wind like a romance novel cover model.
“Oh, man, if I hadn’t seen him up to his chin in candy-scented bubbles with his tubby toys, I would be in so much trouble,” she murmured to herself.
“Tell me about it,” Bonita murmured. “I used to babysit him. It makes me feel old…and dirty.”
Bonita shuddered, making Cordelia laugh. From behind the counter, Ingrid said, “If I were not so contented with my Rob, I would mount that man many times over.”
Cordelia did not, in fact, spit a mouthful of ice cream back into her bowl, but it was a near thing.
“That’s just her manner of speaking,” Bonita told her. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Will I?” Cordelia asked, just as Zed burst through the door.
“Hey there, cher,” he said, opening his arms as she stood. He was giving her the option to accept a hug, instead of assuming, and she adored him all the more for it. For the first time in her memory, she threw herself into someone’s arms.
Zed chuckled enclosing her in a long, tight squeeze. With her face pressed to his black t-shirt, she saw him kissing Dani goodbye this morning, which he saw as the best part of his day—other than kissing her when he got home in the evenings. She saw him having pie with Bael, having a long, manly talk about Bael’s fears about the upcoming baby, and whether he would be a good daddy. She laughed when Zed laid an enormous hand on Bael’s shoulder and told him, “I love you more than any brother could, but man the fuck up. You’re going to be a good daddy because you want to be. Everything else is finding the right YouTube how-to videos.”
“Which part of my day made you giggle-snort?” he asked.
“You are a very good surrogate brother to Bael,” she said. “And I won’t say a thing. I think it’s sweet that he’s so worried. It would be nice if more men thought that way.”
“Speaking from experience?” he asked as she sat back down. Zed pulled a chair from another table and set it next to their table.
“I don’t even know who my dad is,” she said. “He probably doesn’t even know I exist. I get the feeling my mom just woke up one day, decided to have a baby and went out to find a donor.”
Zed gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Not much in the way of family, huh?”
Cordelia shook her head and counted her blessings. She wasn’t even sure Bernadette knew who Cordelia’s father was. Bernadette talked about fathers as if they were a strange luxury that children didn’t need. She’d wanted a child, not necessarily because she craved motherhood, but because she was hoping for someone who would inherit the gift to keep Bernadette in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. Cordelia could only thank her mother for not going for a sibling or two, which might have prevented Cordelia from leaving for years.