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Then he sits back.

“An imbalance of the humors,” he says. “Very common in the fall. I’d recommend leeches.”

“Mister Pell. You said leeches at the harvest fair.”

“And I was right then too.” He reaches for a jar on his shelf. Something in it wiggles. “Now, if you’ll just lift your dress…”

I’m out that door before he gets the lid off.

And I’m laughing so hard by the end of the lane that I have to hold on to a fence post. Because Rowan knew. That man knew good and well what Pell was going to say, and he sent me anyway.

Then I look up, and I’m standing in front of the toy shop.

Of course I am.

* * *

Mother Wren is on her stool, carving something long and smooth that looks a lot like an arm.

“Morning, baby.”

“Morning. Is that for one of the wives?”

“Maybe. Spring, maybe. Takes time to find the right wood.” She looks up at me over her glasses. “You look green. You been to Pell’s?”

“Leeches.”

She sighs. “That whole family.”

Then she does the thing. The same thing she did right before my heat. She tilts her head and sniffs the air. Just once.

And she smiles.

I’ve never seen her smile like that. Her whole little face lights up.

“Oh, baby,” she says. “Come here.”

I walk over, and she takes both my hands in her rough little ones and squeezes.

“You’re carrying.”

I just stand there.

“Carrying what?” I say, like a fool.

“What you think, Hattie? A sack of flour? You’re pregnant. Since the heat, I’d say.”

The shop goes quiet. I can hear my heart. Up on the shelf, the little wooden owl turns its head to look at me.

Pregnant.

I put my hand on my belly. It feels the same as always. Soft and round and mine.

Except now there’s somebody in there.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Mother Wren. Is it going to be… wood?”

“Only one way to find out.” She pats my hand. “Go on home, baby.”