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Horst bypassed the main parking lot for the Enchanted Forest, the one outside the gorgeous white castle, and instead turned into the driveway of a rambling house.

At the end of the driveway, near a very familiar large shed, was Cass, the park’s current proprietor and no stranger to magic herself.

She had Mother Goose, the park’s main mode of transportation, pulled out of the shed and was busy washing mud off the giant bird’s wheels.

Another woman, this one with strawberry-blond hair and a vintage-looking white dress, stood nearby.

“Cass Lindstrom,” Horst said as he climbed out of his car. “Have you created a new age-defying moisturizer? You look younger every time I see you.”

“Pretty sure that’s just the peace that comes from not being married to the wrong man,” she said. “Who would have thought divorce could be the most important part of a skincare regimen?”

“A terrifying advertising slogan if I ever heard one,” Horst said. Then he gestured at me. “You remember Glory O’Bryan.”

“Of course. Glad to see you again.” Cass gave me a friendly wave, then indicated the other woman. “This is my sister, Toni.”

“Stepsister,” the other woman corrected. “We don’t actually share DNA, which is why I’m so much better looking.”

Cass sprayed her with the hose.

“Hey!” Toni exclaimed. “This is my favorite dress.”

“And I told you to wear something more practical to wash Mother Goose. But nope. You knew better.”

Toni brushed wet hair back from her face. “There’s no point in owning cool clothes if I never wear them,” she grumbled.

“‘Cool’ is subjective,” Cass said.

They were so clearly sisters, so obviously used to teasing each other like this, that a spasm of grief seized me.

That was the thing about grief—you can be totally fine for hours, days, months, and then you see something that reminds you of the person you lost and you’re falling back into that sea of pain and loss like it just happened yesterday.

But I was getting better at letting the grief wash over me without drowning in it, and when Cass twisted the head of the hose to cut off the water, dropped it onto the gravel beside the goose, and asked, “How’s your café doing, Glory?” I was able to answer.

“Great,” I said. Then I thought of what the business blogs would want me to say. “Mostly great,” I amended.

Cass pushed her chestnut hair back behind one ear. “Anything I can help with?”

There was something so open and genuine about her, like she was truly interested in helping, despite the fact that we were competitors when it came to birthday parties.

Then again, considering how packed the parking lot we’d passed had been, it didn’t seem like I was much of a threat to the park.

“I’m getting into birthday parties,” I began.

“Oh, they can be a lot of fun,” she said. Then she seemed to think about it a little more. “Usually,” she added.

“I have a party booked, and the birthday girl wants Princess Palollipop to make an appearance. I’ve called everybody I can find online, but I can’t find anyone who can do it. Horst thought you might know of someone.”

Cass tilted her head, the sun picking out sparks of auburn in her hair.

“We mostly get requests for classic fairy tale princesses—Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty—so I’ve never had to hire anyone to do Palollipop.

But I do know a performer who doesn’t advertise because she doesn’t need to.

She’s the absolute best kids’ party entertainer I know of.

If she doesn’t have Palollipop in her repertoire, she’ll know someone who does. ”

“That would be amazing. Thank you.”

“No problem. Happy to help.” She shaded her eyes from the sun with one hand and looked past me to where Horst lingered by the car. “Quill tells me you had an unexpected surprise at the café. A rat.”

If anything, his grin widened, but tension still radiated off him. “You know how it is. You live your life as the Pied Piper, you have to expect a few pranksters.”

Cass made a humming sound in her throat, then glanced from me to Horst. “Let me run in and get that phone number for you. Horst, can you give me a hand?”

A hand with...getting a phone number? I was about to follow them into the house when Cass turned.

“Toni, why don’t you show Glory your garden?” she said. To me, she added, “Toni specializes in carnivorous plants. She’s amazing—her plants have won a ton of awards.”

Horst flashed me an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back. And you really should check out that garden. How often do you get to see award-winning Venus flytraps?”

I watched as the two of them disappeared through the front door of the house.

“Well,” Toni said, kicking at a tuft of grass. “That was subtle.”

“I’m sure they’re just...” I trailed off. I was no longer sure of anything.

“Come on. I’ll show you my garden.” She led me down a path that ran past the house. “They’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It actually wasn’t. I mean, I supposed there could be something going on between them—Horst seemed to blow in and out of my life with the wind, and I had no idea what he did with his time when he wasn’t with me.

But I didn’t get that vibe from them. Besides, if Horst was sleeping with Cass, he could have just left me at the café rather than bring me along.

So I wasn’t worried about that.

It was the easy understanding between them.

Something was going on with Horst, something he wasn’t telling me about.

Cass had seen that instantly. I couldn’t be sure exactly what they were talking about inside the house, but I was fairly certain Horst had come here not just to get a princess’s phone number, but to loop Cass in on whatever he had going on.

The path to the backyard was cool and shady thanks to a series of trees planted along the house, though I still had to swipe sweat off my forehead as we emerged to find a series of old tires, each with a jumble of plants growing within them.

I was no expert on carnivorous plants, but I think I would have been able to figure out that these were no ordinary plants.

There was something just a bit off about them, their green a little too bright, the bits of red here and there a whisper of a warning.

Horst and Cass are friends , I told myself. Of course he would confide in her.

Still, my hand drifted up to my throat, where the necklace I wasn’t wearing felt heavy in its absence.

I thought we were friends, too.

Wasn’t that the bare minimum of what I hoped to mean to him? If we weren’t even friends, then what was I doing?

Drawing closer to one of the tires, I saw a fat, heavy fly land on the bright red mouth of a Venus fly trap. The fly turned slightly to the right, then to the left.

And then the mouth closed around it, the fly disappearing behind the plant’s sawtoothed grin.

Poor thing never saw it coming.