The unnumbered chapters
Roxa's past between the coat-check and the keys — the Grove's favorite mystery. She smiles. That's the whole answer.
In-world fiction — gentle fantasy
Fruitopia's magic is soft and everyday: blossom petals that grant tiny wishes if caught before they land; the Grove's neon signs that flicker in patterns old-timers swear are messages; the lagoon water that supposedly remembers every toast ever made over it.
Roxa's past between the coat-check and the keys — the Grove's favorite mystery. She smiles. That's the whole answer.
Marlow names cocktails after sunsets he's seen and swears there are 400. Regulars insist they've counted 401 names. He won't explain.
Georgia's stem-leaf perks, droops, and once — during the Midnight Diner scene — turned briefly gold. Marigold says it's “just the light.” Nobody believes her.
Message bottles on the Juice Rivers sometimes arrive before they're sent, according to three separate boatwrights who don't know each other.