I'm combing my hair when Hades walks into the bedroom. He comes up behind me and puts his warm hands on my shoulders, then leans down and kisses the nape of my neck.

   "Someone's here to see you," he murmurs.

   I put down my comb and stand up, turning to face him. I put my hands on his waist.

   "Hello, someone," I say.

   He chuckles. "No, not me! Hermes is back, and he brought you something. A gift. He won't show me what it is until you come down."

   "Let him wait a little longer," I say, snuggling close.

   But Hades whispers, "Later," and leads me to the door.

Hermes is sitting on one of the golden couches, unbuckling the wings from his sandals, when we come in. He looks up and smiles.

   "Found you something interesting," he says.

   He puts the wings in his sack, rummages around, and hands me a small woven bag. Hades and I sit on the couch opposite him and I open it. Inside is a wooden box tied with string.

   "Didn't want them to squish," says Hermes, grabbing a cup of nectar from the tray and chugging it down. Hades offers me a drink as well, but I shake my head, intent on the box in my palm.

   The string has a knot. Hermes pulls out his knife and hands it to me. When I pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to proceed, he laughs.

   "You look like Pandora," he says.

   "Who?"

   "It was that eager expression of yours," he says. "Pandora was a mortal whose curiosity got the better of her. She opened a forbidden box and out flowed disease, poverty— all the woes afflicting mankind."

   "What exactly have you put in there, Hermes?" jokes Hades.

   "Stop it, you two," I say. "Let me open my present."

   I flick the knife through the string and lift the lid.

   "Hermes! Seeds for my garden! You're wonderful! What are they?"

   "Damned if I know. Found them on one of my journeys. Those tiny black ones look like poppy seeds."

   I poke around with my finger. "And this is definitely a plum pit. Oh, I'd love to grow a plum tree. Wait, there's one more stuck in the corner."

   I wiggle something loose, then pick it up carefully and lay it in my palm: a pointy-edged oval, glistening and fat with shining red juice almost like blood.

   "That one looks good enough to eat," says Hades, reaching over, but I close my fingers and pull my hand back.

   "Oh, no you don't! That's getting planted. Let's see what it grows."

   I make my grateful good-byes to Hermes, stop to grab a spade, and rush out to my garden.