Page 114 of The Story Between Us

Remi finished adding the stars, then took out a marker and wrote Last Chapter!! above the final square. “We were fully prepared to add more squares if we needed to,” she said as she turned to him with a grin. “I’m glad for your sake that we don’t need to.”

“Thanks,” he managed. “For the coffee. And the…faith.”

“Always.” Her smile softened. “Your sister would be proud, you know. Of the book. Of you.”

His throat tightened. He nodded, not trusting his voice, and walked back out into the morning light.

He found a bench in the sun, near the flannel-clad maple. Sat down. Wrapped his cold hands around the warm cup.

The dogs settled at his feet. The vendors continued their setup. A woman arranged pumpkins outside the General Store. A man strung more lights between lampposts. The fountain in the center of the square caught the morning sun, water sparkling.

This was his town. He’d forgotten that. Forgotten that he belonged here, that these people had known him his whole life, that Emma’s memory lived in more places than just his lake house.

“Mind if I join you?”

He looked up. Hazel Brightman stood beside the bench, a canvas tote bag over her shoulder, her purple cardigan embroidered with autumn leaves. The head librarian. She’d known him since he was seven years old, checking out books about dragons and magic and worlds that didn’t exist yet.

“Please.” He shifted to make room.

She sat down with a small sigh, setting her bag between them. “Beautiful morning.”

“It is.”

“I saw you at the festival last night.” A pause. “With your agent friend.”

He felt his face warm. “She’s been helping with the book.”

“Mmm.” Hazel’s tone was carefully neutral. “She seems lovely.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he took a sip of coffee instead.

“The whole town’s been rooting for you, you know.” Hazel’s voice was softer now. “Ever since Emma passed. We’ve been watching that lake house, hoping to see signs of life.”

“I didn’t know anyone was watching.”

“That’s the thing about small towns.” She smiled. “We’re always watching. But we’re also always hoping.”

A lump formed in his throat. He stared at his coffee cup, at the steam rising in the cool air.

“Emma was such a big part of this town,” Hazel continued. “Her story hour during the festival—the children still talk about it. She had this way of making every story feel like magic. Like anything was possible.”

“She did.” His voice came out rough.

“You’ll be at the dedication, right? Tomorrow, at the closing ceremony?”

He looked at her. “The what?”

Hazel’s expression shifted—surprise, then something careful. “The children’s library dedication. The Storybook Corner. Um…” She swallowed. “Livvie—she’s been working on it for weeks. I assumed you knew.”

The coffee cup went still in his hands. “I don’t…what are you talking about?”

“Oh.” Hazel’s brow creased. “Oh dear. I thought—she said she was going to tell you. She found Emma’s notebook, the one with all the sketches and plans for the reading corner. She’s been working on the murals, the reading nook, all of it. The dedication is tomorrow at the closing ceremony.”

Emma’s notebook.

The blue one. With her initials on the cover. The one he’d searched for—in Emma’s room, in the boathouse, everywhere—while Livvie had watched him and said nothing.

“She had the notebook?”