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It didn’t help that I wasn’t entirely sure whether the real estate agent had been candid about how thrilled everyone was that I’d bought the store and was planning to move in. In their shoes, I would have been leery of a stranger, an American no less, snapping up prime real estate in a town she knew nothing about.

Any doubt about the locals’ position on my arrival had vanished by the time I hauled my suitcase from the B&B to the narrow staircase wedged between my shop and Peggy’s building next door.

The baker’s wife, whose shop was closest to the cute little place where I’d been staying and who’d sold me fresh pastries every morning since I’d arrived, stuck her head out as I yanked my suitcase over the ancient cobbles.

“Settling in properly, are ye, hen? About time! We wondered when ye’d make the move,” she called out with a friendly wave, which I returned with a grunt.

The apartment had only one bedroom, so it hadn’t made sense to move in before Mac left. Then I’d dragged my feet, mostly because I’d anticipated it would be as much of a hassle as it was turning out to be.

The florist on the next street corner pulled her nose out of a bucket of freshly cut dahlias as I jerked my suitcase out of a particularly deep divot between cobbles to cry out, “Och, ye’ll no be needing tae carry that yersel’! Our Davie’s just round the corner if ye need a hand wi’ anything heavier.”

Since I was equally unsure whether she meant that I should ask Davie for help with the suitcase I was struggling to lug over the uneven street or only if I had a heavier one to carry later, I simply nodded and waved as I trudged past her.

By the time I was a block away from the shop, I was heaving like an ancient locomotive, convinced that everyone looking over at me with a range of curious glances could see the sweat rolling off me in clouds of steam—a fear that was only confirmed by the older man waiting by the bus stop who chuckled and said, “Aye, the Banhaven air’ll do that tae ye. Gets inta yer lungs, and ye canna shift it.”

Any other time, I would have slowed to ask him what he meant, but there was a very real chance that if I stopped moving, I’d be tempted to abandon my suitcase instead of starting up again. Instead, I tipped my head in what I hoped wasn’t too rude a gesture and pulled my suitcase over a particularly big cobble with another grunt.

His laughter followed me the last fifty feet to the stairs leading to my apartment, where I paused to finally catch my breath.

A bubbling, feminine laugh coming from across the street blended itself with his drier chuckle. When I turned to see who else was witnessing my mortification, Shona, the young owner of the coffee shop Hame & Away a few doors down across the street, grinned at me.

“Och, sorry, sorry!” she cried, looking anything but apologetic. “But ye’re absolutely a sight! Come by for a cup once ye’ve wrestled that lot up the stairs! I’ll have yer usual waiting for ye!”

With a wink, she slung the dishcloth she’d been using to wipe down a mug over her shoulder and turned to go back into her shop, leaving me alone to face the steep staircase. Groaning, I slumped over and rested my forehead on the suitcase’s handle.

I jumped when it moved under me, surprising a laugh out of the gangly teen boy with sandy hair grinning at me.

“Ma mam said tae come help ye wi’ that. Gies it here. I’m Davie, by the way. Are ye the one taking over the old shop? Mam says it’s nice of ye tae do so. Been empty too long.”

He picked up the suitcase like it weighed nearly nothing and slung it over his shoulder, turning to lead the way. I gaped for a moment, watching him take the steps three at a time like a goat leaping up the side of a mountain, before sucking in a deep breath and dragging myself up the stairs behind him.

“Hallo! Are ye in, hen? It’s just me, Peggy!”

The apartment above the shop was surprisingly large, far bigger than I’d expected, so Peggy’s voice was more muted than usual by the time it made its way through the open-plan kitchen, dining, and living area, down the hall, and into the primary bedroom. Grateful for the interruption, I dropped the fitted sheet I was attempting to wrestle onto a bed I’d been thrilled to find in far better condition than I’d feared.

Mac and I had seen nothing alarming that would keep me from moving in when we’d done a cursory tour of the apartment. As a result, I’d been more than fine with putting him to work doing the heavier lifting necessary to get the shop sorted out rather than helping me clean where I’d be living.

What I hadn’t done was take more notice of what furniture had been left behind by the previous owner. Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought to take stock before I’d run up against the date and time when I’d promised the owner of the B&B I would clear out to make room for her incoming guests. To be on the safe side, I’d ordered an air mattress, but a few quick thumps on the bed hadn’t led to any outraged squeaks or an exodus of sleepy mice. Nor had it released the cloud of dust I’d expected, so I deemed it safe enough to sleep on.

What I hadn’t anticipated was that the sheets I’d ordered online wouldn’t fit on the bed.

“I’m back here!” I called to Peggy, staring forlornly at the pretty sheets I’d been so excited to curl up in. They were the first set I’d bought for myself without having to take anyone else’s design preferences into account. My mother would have been appalled that I’d spent good money on a high thread count, insisting that what she’d had growing up was more than good enough for me. Meanwhile, Jim would have been apoplectic at the thought of sleeping on anything as feminine as the pink-and-orange flower pattern I’d selected.

It was in large part the reason I’d picked that particular design. That and because they made me smile. Or at least they had when I thought they’d fit.

“Och, having a wee bit of trouble with those, are ye?” Peggy clucked, tilting her head at the pile of sheets on the bed as she maneuvered herself and the three large bags she was carrying through the narrow doorway. “Get the wrong size, did ye?”

I frowned. “I didn’t think I had. I got ‘double’ sheets. I figured that was the same as ‘full’ at home, and I was pretty sure that was the size of the bed here.”

“Aye, that’s a double all right. Sounds like ye got the small double, maybe?” Everything in her tone told me she was certain that was exactly what I’d done.

“What’s a small double?” I cried. “Why are there two different kinds of double beds?”

“I dinna ken, hen. But dinna fash. I’ve got what ye need right here.” She jiggled the overstuffed bags in her hands.

“What is all that?” I asked, turning my back on the bed with a small pang of regret. My high hopes of sleeping in my own bed, with the sheets I’d picked out, in the apartment I’d bought for myself, would eventually pan out, just as soon as I could get a new set of sheets delivered. In the meantime, I’d make do. Of all the setbacks I’d faced over the last year, having the wrong sheets barely made the top twenty.

“Our wee Davie told his mam ye might need a few things after he helped ye with yer luggage. She gave me a ring, and I called around to see what we could scrounge up so ye’d have what ye need.”