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“It’s a long story. I wanted to write you a note about it all,” she said. “Before the ship went down. But there wasn’t time to say everything. Not even the important things.”

“Then tell me now. What did you most want to say?” He was watching her, brushing the wet hair out of her eyes. Then he took her hand in both of his and held it to his chest. She could feel his heart beating and was grateful for the warmth he radiated.

Amrita took a deep breath. “I wanted to say that I don’t want you to get on with your life without me,” she said. “Not in this age or any other, while both our hearts still beat.” She swallowed. “Although at the time when I was composing this letter, I wasn’t sure how much more time I might have.”

Buffalo said nothing for a moment. The boat rocked. Behind them The Tufan gave a long last groan as it slipped beneath the waves.

“I haven’t been doing a very good job of getting on with my life without you. In case that wasn’t obvious,” he said.

She laughed. It came out as a waterlogged cough. “It was clear, Captain Westabrook.”

“Hobgoblins hindquarters!” He wrapped his arms around her. She let herself lean in. “Don’t you ever call me that again. When we get home, I might not even get close to a bath tub for a few months.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.” Amrita held her other hand to his cheek. “Though I might ask you to shave.”

“You got it.” Buffalo smiled. “I hope you know I would do anything for you, Amrita. Anything.”

“Then shut up and kiss me,” Amrita demanded. “And let’s not ever be apart again.”

Q: What was the original purpose of Samhain in the ancient Celtic calendar?

A: Not celebration, but negotiation.

The Celts believed the boundary between the living and the dead thinned on this night, allowing passage in both directions. Fires were lit not for festivity but to guide the wandering dead and encourage them to keep moving. It was considered the one night of the year when what was lost might find its way back, and what was waiting might finally arrive.

—Dan Wilder, The Most Important Question: Fanciful Trivia by Dandelion Wilder

THIRTY-TWO

PAST, PRESENT, PERFECT

On the morning of Samhain, The Wildernest was ready.

Dan stood with the door open behind him and marveled at what had come together in such a short time since the fire. He’d worked tirelessly to restore the damage to the walls and floor and bar, and he’d spent a fortune to have everything rewired properly. But that wasn’t what made the tavern feel like a home, now. It was everything that had happened here in the last week that had finally feathered The Wildernest.

Just hours after he’d spoken with Granny Luna, she had shown up at the tavern with a crew of elves who were also certified electricians. They got right to work installing the sconces. He hadn’t even been there for most of it. They worked all through the night while he slept. He came back early the next morning to find the place bathed in warm, welcoming light.

In addition to the sconces there were posters hanging on the walls. Hand illustrated taxonomic displays of butterflies and octopi, beetles and bees, broken down by their genus and species. The elves had installed lights for the artwork as well. Dan was so delighted by it all he couldn’t bring himself to scold his grandmother for going overboard.

Also, thanks to Granny Luna’s fairy magic, the trailing plants were already so well established above the bar that they looked like they had been there for years.

He had no idea what a whizz Granny Luna was at ergonomic layout. She’d fitted more seating into the space than he would have thought possible, and none of it felt crowded. The chairs and barstools matched the bar perfectly and were the kind you could settle into and stay awhile.

Two tufted leather sofas flanked the fireplace, facing each other. Dan hadn’t even thought about putting a table between them until Sara rolled up the previous morning with her housewarming gift; a flower cart that had been salvaged from the fire, upcycled and repurposed by Sara’s friend Roger, just for his space. Maida and Arthur went through their storage unit and offered up a rug and some throw pillows to go with the seating group.

Dan especially admired the way the crystal barware caught the morning light in prisms. It threw tiny rainbows across the black and white tiled floor. He hadn’t asked for any of this. He couldn’t have pictured even half of it three months ago. But standing in the middle of his tavern now, he had to admit it was so much better than anything he could have imagined on his own.

There was nothing left to do now except wait, but Dan had never been good at waiting. He went to straighten the trivia podium, which did not need straightening, and then he went to check the taps, which were also fine. The squirrels were in for a treat; he’d been able to source the acorn stout, and it wasn’t half bad. It had an aromatic finish to it that reminded him of bourbon and plums.

At half past nine Sara appeared in the doorway with Leni beside her. Leni was pulling a small wagon with the sphinx trophy in it. Beside the sphinx was a small present, wrapped in brown shop paper, with a lopsided bow. His name was written in marker on the lumpy package with a backwards “D.”

“What have we here?”

“I brought your sphinx back,” Leni said. “I think it missed you. She’s ready to come and be cozy over the fire.”

“Thank you, Leni.” Dan lifted the sphinx up onto the mantel.

“It looks quite at home there,” Sara commented.