Page 18 of His Greatest Treasure

“Hmm.”

“And I miss her food,” she adds.

I twist in my seat, mouth gaping in offense. “Is there something wrong with my food?”

“You don’t know how to makestuvade makaronerlike her.”

“I’m sure I could try. I didn’t know I made it so . . . poorly.”

She cocks her head. “It’s a little wet.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay to be a bad cook, Mom.”

With a quick flick of her wrist, she has her seat belt unbuckled and her door open. I yank the keys from the ignition and grab my purse before stumbling out of the car after her.

“You’re not getting away that easily, Nova. Why didn’t you tell me before that you wantedstuvade makaroner? How long have you been wanting it? I don’t want to keep you from remembering your heritage, and I know we haven’t been there to visit in a while, but?—”

A small hand grabs my wrist as she cuts me off. “I don’t want it that bad. I like the Gifflar and chocolates grandmasends us.”

I know I should believe her, but instead, I feel guilty. With my shoulders tight, I drop a hand to her head and run it over her slicked-back hair, heart heavy in my chest.

“I can tell her to send you some more. Or I can try and make cinnamon buns for you myself instead.”

Her grin is instant, melting some of the tension from my muscles. “Okay!”

“Now, your mormor told us to come to this studio of all the ones in Vancouver. So, promise to keep an open mind?”

She nods in agreement, and I take her hand before we head to the building. My mom wanted us to come to this studio because it belongs to Gracie Bateman. I know about it from all the times we visited Vancouver, which is why I fought her on us attending when she first brought it up.

The studio is meant for low-income families, not for family friends to receive special treatment. But I was promised that Nova’s spot wouldn’t take one from anyone else more deserving of it. It was the only way I agreed to sign her up.

Other than Oliver, I haven’t seen another member of the Bateman family in nearly a decade. Not because of any sort of drama or bad blood but because I was always the odd one out when it came to my parents’ friends and their kids.

It’s nobody’s fault that I feel like that. It was hard to be close to all the childhood friends I should have had when I lived across the world from them. I never had the chance to become best friends with Adalyn Hutton or Tinsley Lowry the way I used to wish I could.

It was hard on me to have to watch everyone grow closer and closer as the years passed through social media and second-hand information from my parents.

We all grew up together . . . except we didn’t. Not really.

Maybe that played a part in why I was so hesitant to take Nova to Illumina. Bringing her into this studio opens a million doors that I don’t know if I’m ready to walk through yet.

Unfortunately, I don’t think I have a choice. Considering thatout of every single person in Vancouver, my next-door neighbourhadto turn out to be one of those childhood friends. It’s only a matter of time before everyone else learns that I’m no longer in Surrey and instead have come right to the centre of it all, no longer able to hide in plain sight the way I have been since I moved to Canada.

“Mom?” Nova tugs at my hand, and I jerk my head to look down at her. “I said I’ll behave.”

“Thank you, honey.”

We’re in front of the doors, and I blow out a breath when a tall, pastel purple-haired woman pulls one open for us. She smiles at me, and I’m struck stupid for a second at how effortless the act appears, like smiling is her default setting.

Realization hits me a second later when I drop my eyes to the hand she has holding the door open. The tattooed black ring on her left hand is one that I’ve seen a dozen times on her social media. Her entire presence is one that’s hard to forget, but apparently, no matter how many times I stalked her online, I wasn’t prepared to see her in person. Not after ten years.

“You guys head in! I’m just waiting for my husband to park the car. He’s such a perfectionist I’m sure he’s been trying to get as straight as possible,” she says, her voice hitting me right in the gut.

The lack of recognition that appears as she stares at me is just as bad as when I saw it on Oliver’s face.

The backs of my eyes burn, and I jerk my chin before urging Nova inside quickly. A deep ache of homesickness grows as I step inside and get greeted by another sucker punch to the chest.

---