“I’m just saying.”
“Lucy.”
She lifted her hands in a small surrender and stepped back toward the door, but she was smiling, and she didn’t bother trying to hide it. “Oh crap. Get your resting bitch face on,” she hissed. “Be mean. It’s allowed.”
Eric walked in.
The warmth I’d felt since Jasper crossed the room cooled by several degrees before I consciously registered who it was. My shoulders, which had only just dropped to somewhere approaching normal, went back up.
He spotted me before the door had finished closing and came straight for the counter; his smile was easy, assured, as though he’d already decided how the evening would go. He was dressed well. He knew it. I kept my expression pleasant and tried to remain neutral.
“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on the counter. “Wow.” He looked around with an expression that suggested he was generously impressed, the look of someone grading something they hadn’t made. “You really went all out.”
“Hi, Eric.”
“This is great.” His gaze came back to me and settled there, moving over the dress in a way that was just slow enough to register, and I felt the same thing I always felt when Eric looked at me like that—not flattered, just tired, and faintly annoyed at myself for wearing the dress at all, as though that were somehow my fault. “You look great.”
“Thank you. Any open table,” I said, keeping my voice even. “You’ll get grouped in.”
He didn’t move. “I’ll stay close. In case you need anything.”
I wanted to be at the other end of the room from him. I wanted to be hosting my event, talking to the people who were here because they loved books, standing near the back tablewhere Jasper was probably already being interrogated by his Aunt Nancy. I wanted Eric Michaelson’s hand off my counter. “I won’t be at the counter much,” I said. “I’m hosting. I’ll be moving around.”
“That’s fine,” he said, his smile unwavering. “I’ll find you.”
Lucy materialized from nowhere, appearing at his elbow with the serene expression of someone who had been waiting for exactly this moment and had enjoyed every second of the wait. “Perfect timing,” she said, taking him lightly by the arm. “We’ve got a great table for you right over here.” She was already steering him toward the far corner, toward the table of senior book club members who would, I knew, talk at him without stopping for the rest of the evening. “You’ll love this group. They have very strong opinions about Katy Brent novels. You’ll have a blast.”
I pressed my lips together hard and focused on the counter. Then I turned toward the room—the warm light, the full tables, the people I actually wanted to spend the evening with—and let it settle back around me. I straightened my script and took a breath.
More guests arrived. I shoved thoughts of Eric out of my mind, and Pine & Pages hummed with something that felt, for the first time all day, exactly like what I’d imagined.
Chapter 10
Cara
The shop didn’t feel like my shop anymore.
It looked like it—same shelves, same tables, same worn wood floors—but it was full, almost too full, transformed into something straight out of my dreams. Voices layered over each other, chairs scraping, laughter rising, and catching somewhere up in the rafters. People I knew. People I didn’t. Familiar faces mixed with new ones, all of them bent over their clue sheets, leaning toward each other in the candlelight.
They were all here for something I’d made.
I stood behind the counter, script in my hand, fingers pressing into the edge of the paper. Across the room, Lucy caught my eye from her table near the windows and gave me a small nod. Two tables over, Jasper sat with Nancy and Hannah and Eliza, his chair angled slightly outward, like he’d positioned himself to see more of the room than just his own table. He wasn’t looking at me. But I had the distinct sense that he knew exactly where I was.
I exhaled once and stepped forward.
“Good evening, detectives.”
The room stilled. Conversations softened mid-sentence. Heads turned. A couple laughs faded into something morefocused, and I felt it happen—that subtle pivot from noise to attention—and something in my chest tightened and lifted at the same time.
I lifted the first envelope. “Tonight,” I said, my voice steadying as it carried across the room, “someone in Pine & Pages is a killer.”
A ripple moved through the crowd—quiet excitement, a couple of amused scoffs, someone near the windows already playing along with a delighted “I knew it.” I let it move through and settle before I continued.
“The clues are in front of you. Everything you need is already in this room.” I paused. “Pay attention to what’s said—and what isn’t.”
I let that land. Then: “First round.”
The game took hold fast. Papers rustled. Chairs scraped closer to tables. The low hum of conversation shifted register, sharpening into something more focused as people bent over their clue sheets and started piecing things together.
