Chapter 30: Isolde's Envelope
"Sit," said Isolde. "I have something you're going to want to see."
She'd sent a note the night before, on cream stationery that smelled of jasmine, asking me to meet her in the orchard at noon. I'd nearly ignored it. But the memory of the crow lay heavy in me like a swallowed stone, and the part of me that wanted to be told I was wrong, or right, or anything, had gotten the better of my judgment.
She was sitting on the low stone wall in the sun, swinging her feet. Beside her lay a small brown envelope.
"You said you owed me a favor," she said.
"I don't recall agreeing to that."
"Neither do I. But here we are." She patted the wall. "Sit. I'm not going to bite."
I sat, warily. She picked up the envelope and turned it over.
"Do you know who cleans the st
