“THE GARDEN SWELTERED under a gray-lensed sky, Gran’s blueberry bushes holding wizened late fruit under leaves beginning to dapple with fall colors. Every crack in the slate path was familiar, every bush an old friend; the rampion had bolted and so had the radishes. Even the silvery rue looked happy to see her, and it didn’t ask any questions. Inside, the charmed coolness was a balm. She slung her schoolbag onto the counter, opened the fridge, and found a bottle of fresh-pressed apple juice.... Somehow Gran always knew when it was time for apples. The only question was whether she should pour a glass or just drink straight from the— “Hello, Ruby.” She almost dropped the bottle, slammed the fridge door. “Christ. I didn’t hear you.” He was quiet, even for kin. Her heart hammered, the fridge’s compressor humming to itself under its layer of sealcharm. She hadn’t smelled him, but then, she hadn’t been trying to, and he’d lived here for more than a couple days.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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