Page 7 of Spark's Inferno

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Page 7 of Spark's Inferno

When he speaks again, his voice is raspy and low. “You’ve got to take the time to grieve her. I know that. Just make sure you don’t get stuck in it.”

I slide my eyes toward him. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

He cracks his knuckles, one at a time, while he answers. “I am. My wife, Janessa, died in a car accident the year before Iretired. Rainy night, slick roads. Some teenager lost control and T-boned her.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“It was rough not getting to say goodbye. But then I didn’t have to watch her fade away gradually the way you did with Carol. Janessa was there, and then she wasn’t. I’m not sure which way is better.”

“It’s always hard.” I cringe at the platitude, but it’s the best I can do.

He goes on. “The thing is, Nick, you reach an inflection point where grief turns you to stone. And if you aren’t careful, you’ll be cemented in that place for good. Believe me.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.

I slow the truck when we reach the edge of his property. As I come to a stop in the driveway, Bear appears in the cabin’s front window, his giant front paws pressed against the glass. He barks a greeting.

As Enrique gets out of the truck, he says, “Thanks for your help. I hope I haven’t overstepped, Nick. ”

I lean over and call out the open passenger window, “You didn’t overstep. I probably needed to hear it.”

He turns back and gives me a short nod before jogging up the stairs to his porch. Bear’s tail wags wildly, and I reverse out of the driveway.

CHAPTER 7

Noelle

Irush back to the library, practically bouncing. Farah’s disappointment at the lack of cake is more than made up for by the excitement of the scavenger hunt.

“That’s fire! What’s the first clue?”

I hand her the small envelope and she scans the message. Even though I’ve already memorized it, I read it aloud over her shoulder: “Your first clue isn’t difficult. The land of the sweets has many treats. Go to the place where you’ll find a strong one.”

“The land of the sweets?”

“Act II ofThe Nutcracker. All the different dances.” I start ticking them off. I should know them by heart—from the ages of five through twelve, I danced in the Mistletoe Youth Ballet’s annual performance, and have watched from theaudience for even longer. “There’s hot chocolate, marzipan, tea cakes …“ Then it hits me, and I snap my fingers. “Arabian. The Arabian dance is coffee. Coffee can be strong.”

“Unless you get it at the Snowflake Cafe,” Farah says with a giggle.

It’s true. Delphina’s drink creations tend to be sweet concoctions, bordering on desserts. But I know for a fact she stocks a locally roasted Arabica bean blend to accommodate her best friend.

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll stop over there after we close.”

“Go now!”

“Farah, I’ve already left you alone for too long.”

“Go now,” she repeats, insistent. “You’ve been so sad and quiet lately. You need to do something fun.”

I shoot her a sidelong look before I answer. It’s true I’ve been more subdued than usual, but I don’t love that she can tell I’m struggling.

“If you’re sure.”

She gives me a two-handed shove. “I’m positive.”

“I won’t be long,” I promise. And then I’m running out of the library yet again.

I cross High Street, zip around the corner, and head down Silver Bell Lane to the Snowflake Cafe. The lunchtime rush has passed and the late afternoon regulars haven’t yet shown up for their pick-me-ups. I push open the door, and the jingle bells overhead ring loudly in the empty cafe. Delphina’s behind the counter, stocking a glass jar with cake pops that I recognize as Merry’s handiwork.


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