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“I’ve never been much for miracles.” Chuck slid the books across the counter. “But I’m not bad with my hands.” He grinned slowly. “With repairs, I mean.”

Niall’s face flushed as he rang up the books. He ignored the implied offer of help he couldn’t afford with someone who would only mean trouble. “Twelve fifty.”

Chuck pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty. “Your kid’s in the Shakespeare festival?”

“Winnie. She’s nine.” Niall counted out change. “You going to catch a performance?”

“Might. Never seen Shakespeare in a parking lot before.”

Niall grinned. “It’s better than it sounds. They take over the old drive-in on Jarvis Road. People bring lawn chairs. Local vendors sell snacks. The Paper Bag Players do a decent job of shaking the spear.”

Chuck squinted. “I think I remember? Maybe. Maybe not. I wasn’t much into art or culture as a kid.”

“No,” Niall agreed. “Not your speed. Community theater. They took over that old converted church up in the hills.”

Chuck’s face clouded over. “I remember that place.”

Whatever his memory was of that church, it wasn’t pleasant.

Niall pressed on, gently now. “Kids used to mess around there when it was abandoned, but then the Players took over and fixed up the stage.”

“I love that.” A real smile broke through and lit up Chuck’s square jaw. “They saved it. At least it’s safe now.”

Niall nodded. “Nothing fancy. Just the local hams doing a couple shows a year. Still, the crowds are fun, and they do this Shakespeare thing in the summer at the old drive-in.”

“So they saved that too.”

“Yeah. Guess they did. Real popular. Tourists dig it. The festival saved the drive-in and people come from all over. Great foot traffic for us.”

Chuck took his change and the books in one scarred, tan hand. “Learn something new every day. Thanks for these. I’ve been pretty stuck.”

“Sure.” Niall hesitated, then asked, “What are you repairing?”

“My life, with a little luck,” Chuck said with a wry smile. “For right now, I’m starting with my aunt’s lawnmower.” He slapped the counter again, very small-town jolly, like he was making a point of it. “See you around, my man.”

The door shut behind Chuck Mitchum with a hollow clap, and Niall stared at the place where Chuck had been, his heart a plastic bag knocked around by a breeze. He felt light and sick at the same time.

The last time he’d seen Chuck was at a beach party the summer after high school graduation. Chuck had been wild-eyed and laughing, jumping off the pier butt-naked with an empty bottle of tequila in his hand while Niall hovered by the bonfire, nursing the same lukewarm beer all night and trying to keep his eyes on the ground.

They’d been opposites then—Chuck the screw-em-all rebel, Niall the gangly Boy Scout who never colored outside the lines. Well, the wild edge hadn’t dulled, but something clung to the undercarriage now. Chuck smiled like a man counting the exits.

Niall reopened his laptop and stared at the spreadsheet of chronic despair—red numbers everywhere. Three months of losses. The roof was mushy. The electrical system was a fire holding its breath. All he had was this store and the apartment above. And his parents’ latest email sat unanswered in his inbox, another gentle suggestion that it could perhaps be time to give up on the bookstore, move back to Vancouver, let them help with Winnie.

The doorbell jangled again, sharper this time, and his daughter charged in, backpack slung over a shoulder, her dark hair escaping from what had started as a thick, neat braid that morning. She had Elise’s exact scowl, and it caught him in the ribs every time.

“Dad!” she yelled, already dropping her bag with a thud.

“Bug.”

She scrunched her nose at the nickname. “Ms. Patel says I need the permission slips by Thursday for the museum trip, and my wings are so stupid. I want better wings by this summer.”

“Hello to you too.” Niall couldn’t help smiling. “How was school?”

“Boring. Except for our presentation at assembly. But Dad, I looked, like, so stupid.”

“I guess let’s find a different word. You never look stupid. Many things you look, Bug, but stupid is not one of them. Did you finish your fractions homework on the bus like you promised?”

Winnie flopped into the reading chair by the counter, all limbs and drama, clearly ready to unload every story. “Fractions are even more boring than school. Did anything exciting happen here today?”