Wallace set the chair on the floor before glancing back. Nancy hadn’t moved, jaw dropped at the sight of a chair floating through the air. He grunted as he climbed up on the chair. “Sorry about this,” he muttered before wiping his hand across the blackboard. The words—specials, prices, all around the quote about tea and family—smeared in white.

  “Oh my god,” Nancy whispered. “What is this? What’s happening?”

  Wallace lifted a piece of chalk from the base of the blackboard. He wrote one word.

  SPARROW.

  Nancy let out a strangled sob before rushing forward. “Lea? Oh my god, Lea?”

  Underneath SPARROW, Wallace wrote: NO. NOT YOUR DAUGHTER. NOT HERE. I WISH SHE WERE. SHE HAS MOVED ON TO A BETTER PLACE.

  “Is this a joke?” Nancy demanded, voice thick, eyes wet. “How the hell did you know about the sparrow? It … outside her hospital room. It always … who are you?”

  Wallace wiped away the words before writing again, chalk scraping against the blackboard.

  I DIED. HUGO IS TAKING CARE OF ME.

  “Why are you even talking to me, then?” Nancy asked, wiping her face angrily. “You’re not who I want.”

  I KNOW. BUT I HOPE IN HEARING FROM ME, YOU’LL UNDERSTAND THERE IS SOMETHING MORE BEYOND WHAT YOU KNOW.

  “How am I supposed to believe you?” Nancy cried. “Stop. Stop playing with me. It hurts. Can’t you see that? It hurts so much.” Her voice broke.

  THE GIVING TREE.

  Nancy flinched. “What?”

  “Hugo,” Wallace whispered. “I … can’t. It’s too much. It’s up to you now.” He dropped the chalk to the floor. It shattered. He almost fell off the chair, but Nelson was there, grabbing onto his legs, keeping him from collapsing. He sat down roughly, his strength draining.

  “No,” Nancy whispered, taking a stuttering step forward. “No, no, come back. Come back!”

  “Nancy,” the ferryman said.

  Nancy turned, bone white.

  “It was her favorite book,” Hugo said quietly, and Wallace sat upright, Nelson gripping his hand tightly. Apollo sat next to them, tail swishing back and forth. Mei looked pale, her hand at her throat. “She loved the voices you did when you read it to her. Even though she learned to read on her own, she always wanted you to read it to her. There was something about your voice, something warm and beautiful that she always wanted to hear.”

  “You can’t know that,” she said hoarsely. “It was just her and me. Our thing.” She sounded as if she were choking.

  “She told me,” Hugo said. “She was so happy when she did. She spoke of picking apples in the fall, and the way you laughed when she ate more than she picked.”

  Nancy covered her mouth with her hand.

  Hugo took a step toward her, slow and deliberate. “She was sad, too, because she missed you.” His voice cracked, but he pushed through it. “Her body was tired. She fought as hard as she could, but it was too much for her. She was brave because of you. For you. You taught her joy and love and fire. You went to the zoo because she wanted to see polar bears. You took her to the museum because she wanted to touch dinosaur bones. You danced in your living room. The music was loud, and you danced. Once, she knocked over a vase. You told her it was just a little thing, and there was no need to be upset when it could be replaced.”

  Nancy began to sob. It crawled from her chest, the monster of grief, trying to drag her down into the depths.

  “Fight,” Wallace whispered. “Oh, please, fight it.”

  “She loved you,” Hugo continued, “and she loves you still. No matter what comes next, that will never change. One day, you’ll see her again. One day, you’ll look upon her face. There will be no more pain. There will be no more sorrow. You’ll know peace because you’ll be together. But that day is not today.”

  “Why?” Nancy said, and it was such a desperate thing that Wallace bowed his head. “Why can’t I have her? Why does it have to hurt so much? Why can’t I breathe?”

  Hugo stopped in front of her. He hesitated before touching the back of her hand briefly. Nancy didn’t try to pull away. “She isn’t gone. Not really. Just … moved on.”

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “Someone who cares,” Hugo replied. “I … lied to you. Before. When you first came here. And for that, I’m sorrier than you could know. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse. I help people. Like her. I help them cross. And we…” He swallowed thickly. “And I—we did that. We showed her the path forward. Lives don’t end. They move on.” He paused. “Do you remember the last thing you said to her?”

  Nancy deflated, curling in on herself. “Yes.”

  “You said go. Go wherever you need to go. To the center of the earth. To the stars. To the—”

  “To the moon to see if it’s made of cheese,” she whispered.

  Hugo smiled. “The sickness is gone.”

  Nancy glanced at the blackboard, the smear of words, before turning back to Hugo. “Did you do this?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t me. But it was someone very important to me. And you can believe every single word written.”

  She watched him for a long time. “I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. That’s what you keep telling me.”

  He nodded.

  “Why?” she asked as she trembled. “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because I don’t know how else to be.”

  For a moment, Wallace thought it’d be too much for her. That they’d pushed too hard. He was surprised when she squared her shoulders. She looked at Mei, who waved at her with a small smile. Then, to Hugo, “I’d like a cup of tea, if that’s all right.”

  “Okay,” Hugo said. “I’ve always thought tea was a good place to start. And whenever you’re ready, if you’re ready, you’ll know where to find me.” He nodded toward the table where the tea tray sat. “Milk or sugar?”

  “No. Just as it is.”

  Wallace looked on as Hugo poured the tea into two cups, one for her, and one for him. He handed Nancy a cup before taking his own. He watched her as she brought the teacup toward her face, inhaling deeply. Her hands started to shake, though no tea spilled. “Is that…”

  “Gingerbread,” Hugo said. “Her favorite.”

  Another tear slipped down Nancy’s cheek. She drank deeply, throat working as she swallowed. She took another sip before setting the cup down back on the tray. She took a step away from Hugo. “I’d like to leave now. I’ve seen enough for one day.”

  Mei rushed forward, taking Nancy by the elbow and guiding her toward the door. Nancy stopped before Mei could open it for her. She looked back at Hugo, the color slowly returning to her face. “What are you?”

  “I’m Hugo,” he said. “I run a tea shop.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No,” he said.

  Nancy looked as if she were going to speak again, but shook her head as Mei opened the door for her. She hurried down the porch, glancing back only once. A moment later, lights from her car illuminated the tea shop as it backed slowly, turning around before she drove away.

  Mei closed the door, turning and leaning against it. She wiped her eyes as she sniffled.

  Hugo rushed to Wallace. “Are you okay?” he demanded. He reached out for Wallace and looked stricken when his hands passed right through him. Wallace felt the same. “You—”

  Wallace smiled weakly. “I’m fine. It’s … I’m okay. Really. It took more out of me than I expected. You did it, though. I knew you could. Do you think it helped?”

  Hugo gaped at him. “Do I think it helped?”

  “That’s … what I asked, yes.”

  Hugo shook his head. “Wallace, we gave her hope. She … maybe she has a chance now.” Wallace was stunned to see Hugo’s own eyes were wet. “Mei. I need you to—”

  “No,” Wallace said before Mei could move. “This wasn’t about me. This is your moment, Hugo. You did this.” He looked at Mei. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

  “I need you to hug Hugo for me. Because I can’t, and I want to more than anything.”

  Hugo’s eyes widened comically as Mei launched herself at him, legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck. It took Hugo a second, but he lifted his arms and held her close, her face in his neck, his in her hair. Apollo yipped excitedly, dancing around them, tongue hanging from his mouth. “We did it, boss,” Mei whispered. “Oh my god, we did it.”

  Wallace watched with fierce pride as Nelson moved toward them, and though he couldn’t touch them, he did the next best thing. He stood with his grandson and Mei.

  Wallace smiled and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER

  19

  Acceptance.

  It was easier than Wallace had expected.

  Whatever he’d felt before he’d met the Manager, whatever he’d resigned himself to, it hadn’t been like this.

  His head was clear.

  He didn’t think it was peace he was feeling, at least not yet. He was still scared. Of course he was. The unknown always brought fear. His life, what there was of it, had been strictly regimented. He woke up. He took a shower. He dressed. He drank two cups of terrible coffee. He went to work. He met with the partners. He met with clients. He went to court. He’d never been one for theatrics. Just the facts, ma’am. He felt comfortable in front of a judge. In front of opposition. Most times he won. Sometimes he didn’t. There were highs and lows, setbacks and victories. The day would be long gone by the time he went home. He’d eat a frozen dinner in front of the television. If he was feeling particularly indulgent, he’d have a glass of wine. Then he’d go into his home office and work until midnight. When he finished, he’d take another shower before going to bed.

  Day after day after day.

  It was the life he knew. The life he was comfortable with, the one he’d made for himself. Even after Naomi had left and it felt like everything was crumbling, he held it all together by sheer force of will. It was her loss, he’d told himself. It was her fault.

  He’d accepted it.

  “You’re a white man,” his assistant told him at the office Christmas party, her cheeks flushed from one too many Manhattans. “You’ll fail up. You always do.”

  He’d startled her when he’d laughed loudly. He’d been a little drunk himself. She’d probably never seen him laugh before.

  If only she could see him now.

  Here, in Charon’s Crossing, with three days left until the Manager returned, Wallace ran through the backyard as night gave way to the rising sun, Apollo chasing after him in a sort of game of tag, barking brightly. Wallace worried for a moment about disturbing the tea plants, but he and Apollo were dead. The plants wouldn’t be bothered if he didn’t want them to be.

  “Got you,” he said, pressing his fingers between Apollo’s ears before taking off again.

  He laughed when Apollo jumped on him, paws hitting his back, knocking him off his feet. He landed roughly on the ground and managed to roll over in time to get his face spectacularly licked. “Ugh!” he cried. “Your breath is awful.”

  Apollo didn’t seem to mind.

  Wallace allowed it to go on for a few moments longer before pushing the dog off. Apollo crouched down on his front paws, ears twitching, ready to play again.

  “Did you ever have a dog?” Nelson asked him from his perch on the back deck.

  Wallace shook his head as he pushed himself off the ground. “Too busy. Seemed a little mean to get one, only to be gone for most of the day. Especially in the city.”

  “When you were younger?”

  “My father was allergic. We had a cat, but it was an asshole.”

  “Cats usually are. He’s a good boy. I worried, when we knew his time had come. We didn’t know what happened to dogs when they passed. They take a piece of our souls with them when they leave. I thought … I didn’t know what it’d do to Hugo.” He nodded toward the tea plants. “Toward the end, Apollo could barely walk. Hugo had to make a hard choice. Let him stay as he was, and be in pain, or give him the ultimate gift. It was an easier decision for him than I expected it to be. The vet came here, and they laid a blanket out in the garden. It was quick. Hugo said his goodbyes. Apollo smiled in that way that dogs do, like he knew what was happening. He took a breath and then another and then another. And then … he didn’t. His eyes closed. The vet said it was done. But he couldn’t see what we could.”

  “He was still here,” Wallace said as Apollo pressed his head against his knee, trying to get him to run again.

  “He was,” Nelson agreed. “Full of pep and vigor as if all the ailments and trappings of life had just faded away. Hugo tried to take him up to the door, but Apollo refused. Stubborn, he is.”

  “Sounds like someone I know.”

  Nelson laughed. “I suppose, though the same could be said about you.” His smile faded. “Or at least it used to be. Wallace, you don’t have to—”

  “I know,” Wallace said. “But what choice do I have?”

  Nelson was quiet for a long moment, and Wallace almost convinced himself the conversation was over. It wasn’t. Nelson smiled sadly and said, “It’s never enough, is it? Time. We always think we have so much of it, but when it really counts, we don’t have enough at all.”

  Wallace shrugged as Apollo pranced around the tea plants. “Then we make the most of it.”

  Nelson didn’t reply.

  * * *

  He spent the day in the kitchen with Mei. He’d recovered enough from the séance with Nancy that he was able to pull trays of pastries from the oven and to lift the kettles from the stove. If anyone had looked through the portholes, they’d have seen kitchenware floating through the air with the greatest of ease.

  “Why don’t you just heat the water in the microwave?” he asked, pouring the water into a ceramic teapot.

  “Oh my god,” Mei said. “Don’t ever let Hugo hear you say that. No, you know what? I changed my mind. Tell him, but make sure I’m there when you do. I want to see the expression on his face.”

  “Wouldn’t be too happy, huh?”

  “Understatement. Tea is serious business, Wallace. You don’t heat water for tea in the freaking microwave. Have a little class, man.” She picked up the tray Wallace had been working on and backed through the doors. “But still, tell him. I want to record his reaction.” The doors swung shut behind her.

  He went to the portholes, looking out into the tea shop. It was as busy as usual. The lunch crowd had arrived, and most of the tables were filled. Mei moved expertly around the people before setting the tray on a table. He glanced at the far corner. Nancy’s table was empty. He wasn’t surprised. He thought she’d be back, but it probably wouldn’t be until he was gone. He didn’t know if what they’d done had been enough. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d alleviated her pain, but he hoped she’d at least have the foundation to start to build again if she wanted.

  Hugo stood behind the register, smiling, though it was distant. He’d been quiet that morning, as if lost in thought. Wallace didn’t want to push. He let Hugo be.

  The front door of the tea shop opened, and a young couple walked in, their hair windswept, eyes bright. They’d been here before, the man saying it was their second date, when it was actually their third. He held the door open for his lady friend, and she laughed when he bowed slightly. Even above the din, Wallace could hear him. “After you, my queen.”

  “You’re so weird,” she said fondly.

  “Only the best for you.”

  She grabbed his hand, pulling him to the counter. He kissed her on the cheek as she ordered for the both of them.

  And Wallace knew the next thing he needed to do with the time he had left.

  * * *

  “You don’t have to do this,” Hugo said after the tea shop had closed for the night. Wallace had asked Mei and Nelson to give them some privacy. They’d agreed, though Nelson waggled his eyebrows suggestively as Mei pulled him into the kitchen, Apollo trailing after them.

  “Maybe. But I think I do. If you can’t, I can ask Mei to—”

  Hugo shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. What do you want me to say?”

  Wallace told him. It was short and simple. He didn’t think it was enough. He didn’t know what else to add.

  If he still had a beating heart, he thought it’d be in his throat as Hugo set the phone to speaker after he’d dialed the number Wallace had given him. He didn’t know if anyone would answer. It’d be a strange number appearing on her screen, and she’d probably end up ignoring it as most people did.

  She didn’t.

  “Hello?”

  Hugo said, “Can I speak with Naomi Byrne?”

  “Speaking. Who’s calling, please?” The last word was quieter, and Wallace knew she had pulled the phone away to look at the number, frowning as she did so. He could see her clear as day in the corners of his mind.

  “Ms. Byrne, my name is Hugo. You don’t know me, but I know your husband.”

  A long pause. “Ex-husband,” she said finally. “If you mean Wallace.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but Wallace died a couple of months ago.”

  “I know,” Hugo said.

  “You … do? You spoke of him in the present tense, and I just assumed—it doesn’t matter. What can I do for you, Hugo? I’m afraid I don’t have long. I have a dinner meeting to get to.”

  “I won’t take much of your time,” Hugo said, looking up at Wallace who nodded.

  “Were you a client of his? If there’s a legal issue, you need to call the firm. I’m sure they would be happy to assist—”

  “No,” Hugo said. “I wasn’t a client of his. I guess you could say he is—”

  “Was,” Wallace hissed. “Was.”

  Hugo rolled his eyes. “He was a client of mine, in his own way.”