Twig turns onto Doorn Avenue. “You really think Maggie is going to entertain a question about alternate dimensions?”
“If anyone throughout the history of Foggy Hollow has ever mentioned an alternate dimension, Maggie will be the one to know.”
Maggie is my boss, owner of Evermore Books and keeper of the Foggy Hollow historical society—her pride, her project, and the reason Evermore’s second floor is packed to the rafters. She’s a devoted historian, a meticulous archivist, and although she lets Twig and me use her creepy basement to recordAccounts of the Uncanny, she has little patience for supernatural shenanigans, which means we will have to tread carefully.
“We just have to approach it from the right angle.”
Twig pulls to the curb and parks in front of Frozen Joy.
Outside, sunshine sparkles off the yellow-orange leaves of the sugar maples planted along the square. Twig hobbles behind me in his boot as I sweep past the ice cream shop and Evermore’s quirky storefront window.
The bell jingles as I open the door.
It’s a cozy place, Evermore Books, with creaky floors and narrow aisles and hidden nooks. I inhale the familiar scent and smile at Walt Jensen, sitting behind the front counter, petting Poe, the resident black cat, and reading the Sunday edition of the Foggy Hollow Gazette. Walt is Maggie’s right-hand man, a retired journalist who—back in the day—put truth before politics and earned more than a few enemies because of it.
I catch a glimpse of the cover story.An Unexpected Return Stuns Foggy Hollow - Lainey Sikes Breaks her Silence.I set my hands on the counter. “She spoke with reporters?”
“One would think so,” Walt grumbles, the paper crinkling as he gives it a fold. “Headline’s a screamer, but the story’s all fluff. Nothing in there I didn’t already get from the press conference and a ten second internet search.”
With a disappointed frown, I pet Poe.
“Police were right, though,” Walt says. “They suspected she left town with that young Vandenberg fellow, and sure enough…”
The dangling sentiment has me biting my tongue.
Lainey told Griffin she left town with Rafe, which is exactly what everyone suspected all along. The two of them dated publicly. Rafe escorted her to the masquerade ball. And Lainey was crazy about him. So, of course, the public is going to believe what they already assumed.
With a meow, Poe hops off the counter.
“Where’s Maggie?” I ask.
Walt nods toward an aisle. “She’s doing her note thing.”
I spot her standing on a step stool in the Victorian Era, muttering to herself as she sorts through a stack of notecards. Maggie arranges her shop,not by genre alphabetized by author’s last name, but by era, alphabetized by title. This has always been a source of contention between her and Walt, who finds the system utterly absurd. While he has a point—this is terribly confusing for customers—it’s really not so hard to navigate once you get the hang of it.
I motion for Twig to follow.
One of Maggie’s notecards flutters to the floor.
I pick it up and read the scribbled words out loud. “Horrible choice if you hate cliffhangers.”
“Ah, yes.” Maggie turns to the top shelf and runs her finger along the spines.
“We have a strange question,” I say.
She pulls outThe Mystery of Edwin Droodby Charles Dickens. She hands me her stack of notecards, takes the one I picked up, and slips the note inside.
“For this folklore project Twig and I are doing at school.”
Maggie nods at the stack. “What’s the next one say?”
“Great for book clubs.”
She exchangesThe Mystery of Edwin DroodforThe Time Machineby H.G. Wells and inserts the notecard.
“It’s about alternate dimensions,” I say.
Maggie snaps the book shut and peers down atme through her reading glasses, which have slid to the end of her hawkish nose. “You’re doing a folklore project at school about alternate dimensions?”
