Page 12 of Piece By Piece

“What?” he asked.

“I was thinking we would do a pirate theme for the scavenger hunt. So the kids could follow a treasure map to all the different places in town, like shops and landmarks. They’ll stop at each one to solve a clue. Then we can do eye patches. Oh my gosh, maybe even a parrot. Like one of those stuffed ones. Obviously not a real…”

“Why does everything have to be loud?” he asked.

The question stopped her in the middle of her sentence. Not because it was really rude- it wasn’t exactly- but because he’d said it like he really wanted to know. Like the concept of being loud was something he had been studying for a long time and still couldn’t make any sense of.

She looked at him for a moment. “Why does everything need to be quiet?”

He didn’t answer.

The sound of frogs started filling the space between them, and a breeze moved through the live oak trees, rustling the moss.

“Look, I’m not trying to take over,” she said, softening her voice. “I just think that we can make something really cool if we work together. With my planning skills and your puzzles, I mean, it could be the best thing at the festival.”

He put his hands in his pockets. She noticed that he did that quite a bit.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

He looked at her for just a second, and she swore something shifted in his eyes. Was it warmth? Not exactly. It was more like curiosity. Like there was the faintest little crack in the wall that was him.

Then he nodded once, turned around, and walked toward the parking area without even saying goodbye.

He never looked back.

Liza watched him walk like he was a man carrying something heavy and didn’t want anyone to notice.

The conversation hadn’t been a fight exactly. It was just like two weather systems meeting, one warm front, one cold front.

She stood there for just a minute, listening to the frogs and the distant sound of the ocean, and tried to figure out why this guy bothered her so much.

It wasn’t personal. She’d known him for a few days. She barely even knew him.

But there was something about the way he’d said no. Not in an angry or dismissive way, but like he was protecting something fragile behind that big wall of quiet.

And she kind of wanted to know what it was.

“Well, you two remind me of a crossword clue.”

Liza turned around and saw Dixie had suddenly appeared on the porch behind her, like a ghost with excellent timing.

“Four letters, starts with L,” Dixie said.

Liza squinted at her. “Loud?”

Dixie winked. “Okay, honey, sure. Let’s go with that.”

The next morning, Dixie appeared in the bookstore with a wrist brace.

“Sprained,” she announced, dropping her purse on the counter. “It ain’t broken. It ain’t fractured. It’s just sprained. My doctor said I have to rest it for up to three weeks, which is just hilarious to me because he doesn’t understand how retail works. I doubt he’s ever worked in a retail store a day in his life.”

Liza looked up from the children’s section. She’d been measuring the wall for a potential mural by a local artist.

“Three weeks? Oh my gosh, Dixie, you can’t run this place with just one hand. And Julie’s far too busy.”

“Oh, I most certainly can. I’ve been running this place with one hand, one eye, and half a brain for over thirty years.”