But when the first few months of trying yielded nothing, she had started fretting that maybe there was something wrong. He’d told her that it was too soon to worry, that it was fun trying, and that it would happen in due time. And in an attempt to get her to relax, when she’d rushed home from work early one afternoon declaring that she was at peak ovulation, he’d refused to drop his pants and do it immediately—which had been uncharacteristic for him. In those days, whether they were babymaking or not, he’d generally been ready to go anytime. Instead he’d taken her out for dinner in Bayshore, and as they’d driven back to town, they’d realized it was a full-moon night. So they’d nicked some flowers and headed for the pier.
He’d never asked her what she wished for, but it had been pretty obvious.
And it had worked. Or his dinner-and-a-glass-of-wine relaxation method had. Something had worked, because three weeks later, there was the little plus sign on a pregnancy test. She had been so happy.
They both had.
“So these aren’t actually moonflowers?” Nora, who was walking beside him, held up the flower she was carrying, drawing him from his memories. “Maya’s dad said it was an amaryllis? I thought the whole point was moonflowers. This is Moonflower Bay, after all.”
“Yeah, that’s not a moonflower.” She wrinkled her forehead. It was kind of confusing. “You’ve seen the moonflowers everywhere downtown? Or at least you did in the summer?”
“Yeah, they’re lovely. And once I moved into the Mermaid, I was able to appreciate them more, since I was often walking around in the evenings.”
“Yeah, but have you noticed the plaques?”
“Directing people not to use the flowers for wishing? I wondered what that was about.”
“The wishing thing became really popular a few years ago,” he explained. “Tourism has really taken off around here, what with the Raspberry Festival and the Mermaid Parade. People started stealing the moonflowers. There was one year when by the start of August, there were just all these sad vines with no flowers. So the city council installed plaques directing people to buy flowers at A Rose by Any Other Name. Imported flowers also allow the wishing to go on year-round. It used to just be a summer thing—it only lasted as long as the moonflowers did.”
“Hey, are you guys coming?” They had fallen behind the group, and Maya was calling back to them. Sawyer shot Jake a quizzical look over his shoulder.
“Sorry!” Nora caught up with Maya. “Jake was just explaining the reason you don’t use actual moonflowers anymore.”
Sawyer raised his eyebrows at Jake. Yeah, yeah, whatever. He was having a conversation. Honestly. He wasn’t as bad as they all made him out to be. But he didn’t need any grief, so he stayed at the back of the pack. He eyed a display of moonflowers in front of Curl Up and Dye. It was late in the season, and most of the town’s signature flowers had already died, but the salon had somehow kept theirs looking great.
“So why don’t you just import moonflowers?” Nora asked Maya. Even though Jake wasn’t walking next to Nora anymore, he listened in as the women spoke. “That would seem like the obvious thing to do.”
“You can’t retail moonflowers,” Maya said. “They’re flowering vines, so it’s not like you can cut the blossoms off and ship them somewhere. So we import amaryllises and call them ‘wishing flowers.’”
“The town conspires to ruin everyone’s wishes, basically,” Eve laughingly declared.
“No, the town conspires to protect its heritage,” Sawyer said.
“The only way to do it right is to steal one,” Maya said. “But that’s illegal. There’s an actual town bylaw.”
“And if you’re friends with Mr. Goody Two-Shoes,” Clara said, mock-punching her brother in the shoulder, “or related to him, stealing is out.”
Nora laughed as she listened to everyone explain. “No offense, but this town is really weird.”
When they got to the pier, everyone fanned out. Nora was on the far side by herself. Jake made his way over and stationed himself at the railing next to her. “Hey. Use this instead.” He passed her a moonflower like they were doing a drug deal.
She gasped quietly. “Where did you get this?”
“I stole it from Curl Up and Dye.”
She glanced over her shoulder toward Sawyer, who, as far as Jake knew, had never actually booked anyone for grand theft moonflower.
“Just take it. You should have a real one your first time.”
God. Listen to him. “You should have a real one your first time”? Had he sustained a head injury?
Very possibly, because when she held out her amaryllis and said, “Okay, swap,” he switched flowers with her.
He should just tell her to use them both and make two wishes. But that would usher in a whole conversation about why he didn’t want to make a wish.
“I have no idea what to wish for.” She extended her palm out over the lake. But then, seeming to think better of it, she quickly retracted it. “I guess I shouldn’t be displaying my contraband so overtly.”
He chuckled. “It’s fine. No one’s paying attention.” It was true. Sawyer and Clara were chatting, having done their wishing already. Maya and Eve were laughing and leaning out theatrically over the water.
“Just so you know,” Sawyer called to them, “I wished that nobody would fall in this evening, so watch yourselves there.”
“Make a wish,” Nora mused, waving to acknowledge Sawyer’s warning. “It’s so vague. Like, I should wish for world peace, right? Or at least comprehensive vaccine coverage?”
“In my experience,” he said slowly, formulating his thoughts as he spoke, “you should wish for something personal, and it should be small.” He always used to do that. For example, the last wish he’d made here, that night he was pretty sure Kerrie had wished for Jude, had been for some hot, non-chore-like sex—given Kerrie’s focus on conception, things had become a bit mechanical in the bedroom. “If you keep it specific, and within the realm of possibility, it’s more likely to come true.”
“But is it actually a wish then, if it’s already likely to come true?”
He smiled. “You got me there, Doc. I’m never going to win any philosophical arguments with you. Or anyone else. But especially you.”
“Are you saying I’m a snob?”
“No! I’m just saying you’re smarter than I am.”
“No, I think you might be right.” She extended her arm again, this time with her palm over the flower to obscure it. “Okay, a specific, within-the-realm-of-possibility wish. Let’s do it together.”
Well, crap. He was not prepared for this. He had only planned to come along to…why? He had no idea.
Regardless, the path of least resistance was to just drop the flower into the lake. She would never know if he made a wish or not.
“On three,” she said as his own words echoed in his head. Specific. Within the realm of possibility. “One, two, three.”
It popped into his head just before his flower hit the water.
I wish Nora could find a place to live where she can hear the lake.