The next morning, bleary-eyed and badly in need of a cup of coffee, Dahlia stopped in at the Bluebonnet Café. Maggie was manning the cash register, never seeming to lose her cool as the line continued to grow. In the lobby and the main dining room, townspeople huddled in groups, chatting about something. One woman pointed out the window in response to whatever her companion had said.

When Dahlia reached the front of the line, Maggie handed her a to-go cup of coffee before she had a chance to order. “Thanks. What’s everyone talking about?”

Maggie brushed an errant curl away from her eyes and stopped what she was doing.

“Oh, it’s awful. You know how Wendy parks her truck in the lot across from the bookstore?” Her eyes widened and she leaned in toward Dahlia.

“Yeah, what about it? I told her it was okay to park there. Did someone complain about it?” Dahlia wasn’t surprised that Maggie and everyone else in town already knew Wendy, but even in Candle Beach a parking violation wasn’t big news.

“Someone vandalized it,” Maggie said.

“You’re joking, right? In Candle Beach?” she asked, although she could tell from Maggie’s expression that it wasn’t a joke. “Do they know who did it?”

“Probably kids or some drunken tourists,” Maggie said. “Do you want your usual?” She moved over to the bakery case and picked up the tongs as she waited for Dahlia to respond.

“No, I think I’ll go with a sausage roll today. I’ve had enough sweets for a while. Can I get an extra cup of coffee and a Danish for Wendy? She probably hasn’t had a chance to eat yet today. I feel so bad for her. That truck is how she makes a living.” A thought occurred to her. “Oh no, did they get the furniture in it too?” Wendy had told her she’d sold most of her inventory at the summer market, but Dahlia would bet she’d left any remaining pieces in her truck overnight instead of unloading them. She handed Maggie her credit card.

“I don’t know,” Maggie said as she swiped the card through the reader. “I’ve heard bits and pieces from customers today, but haven’t seen the damage myself. We’ve been slammed with business. Everyone seems to be out and about today.” She sighed. “You know how things are in Candle Beach. Something like this is big news.”

Dahlia nodded. “Thanks Maggie.” She grabbed the bag of pastries and the two cups of coffee. “Hey, do you want to have dinner or lunch together sometime this week?”

Maggie smiled and nodded yes before greeting the next customer in line.

Dahlia knew exactly where Wendy parked her truck, but she wouldn’t have needed to guess if she hadn’t. A crowd of people had gathered around the truck and one of the two Candle Beach police cars was parked near it. Adam milled around near the police car, snapping pictures of the truck and the surrounding crowd.

When she grew closer to the truck, she gasped at the damage. The front windshield had been smashed and chunks of safety glass covered the pavement like glittery green pebbles. The perpetrator had slashed the two left tires and the truck leaned drunkenly to that side. Wendy stood next to a police officer, talking animatedly, but Dahlia didn’t want to bother her.

She circled the truck. Other vehicles were parked near it in the lot, but none of them appeared to have been damaged. Wendy’s furniture truck had been singled out. What was going on here? Did someone have it out for Wendy as a newcomer to town? Or was it completely random?

While she was deep in thought considering the possible vandals, Wendy tapped her on the shoulder.

“Aah!” She jumped and accidentally jostled the coffee cups she held in her hands. Drops of the dark brew splashed on the ground.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Wendy’s green eyes were dull and rimmed with red, and her bouncy curls hung in a tangled mess down her back.

“No worries.” She handed Wendy a cup of coffee and a Danish and used a napkin to wipe off her hands.

“Thanks,” Wendy said. “I came out to the truck this morning before breakfast to get some paperwork and I found this.” She waved her hand at the broken glass. “I haven’t had a chance to eat yet today. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Wendy, I’m so sorry. This is awful,” Dahlia said, scanning the mess again. “Do the police have any clue who did this?”

“No, at least not that they’re telling me. I know this type of thing probably isn’t high on the police department’s radar.”

“Maybe not in a big city, but in Candle Beach, this is huge. This will make the front page of the Candle Beach Weekly for sure,” Dahlia said. “Did you hear anything from the apartment last night?” She looked up at the apartment over the bookstore. The parking lot across the street was close enough that Wendy may have heard the glass breaking through the open window.

“No, I had headphones on and was listening to a new Tibetan meditation track,” Wendy said. “I woke up feeling so relaxed, and then I found this.” She frowned at her mangled truck.

“I’m so sorry. I feel responsible, since I brought you to Candle Beach and everything.”

Wendy hugged her. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. These things happen.” She added with false cheer. “And insurance will cover it, so everything will be fine.”

“Did they get to your furniture in the back?” The back of the truck had been closed when she looked at it, but there appeared to be scratches around the lock.

“No, thank goodness, I’d locked it. The police said they’d tried to pry open the door handle, but they were unsuccessful. Someone may have scared them off.”

“Well, that’s one good thing,” Dahlia said. “I know you’ve put hours into each of those pieces of refinished furniture.” She used her foot to grind dirt into the cracked pavement of the parking lot. “Did you call Garrett about it?”

“I called him, but he didn’t answer.” Wendy’s face fell. “Not that I expected anything different.” She grabbed Dahlia’s arm. “Let’s talk about something happier. Isn’t your espresso bar going in today?” She guided Dahlia over to the bookstore entrance, and Dahlia unlocked the door.

“It is,” she said. She flipped on the lights and smiled with pleasure when she saw the store. The floors gleamed in the daylight, creating a warm glow throughout To Be Read. “Do you want me to tell Garrett about your truck if I see him?”

“Nah.” Wendy waved her hand in the air. “It’s not a big deal. Probably better if he doesn’t know.”

“Okay.” It seemed like a big thing to her, but she didn’t want to get in between Wendy and her son when their relationship was already tenuous.

“I hope you have a wonderful sales day,” Wendy said. “Now that the police have finished with the truck, I’m off to find someone to fix the windshield and replace the tires. And once that’s done, I need to find some furniture in need of reupholstering if I want to have something to sell at next week’s market.” She waved goodbye and strode off toward the back room.

* * *

At six o’clock on the dot, Dahlia flipped over the sign on To Be Read’s front window. The store was closed for the day, but she planned to work on some new book orders. Before she reached her office, someone rapped on the front door. She paused in the entry to the back room, trying to see from there if it was someone she knew.

“Dahlia, it’s me,” Garrett called out.

What was he doing here? After he’d stalked off at the beach last night, she hadn’t been sure she’d see him again. She crossed over to the door and unlocked it, holding it open for him.

He stepped inside and presented her with a bouquet of red roses. Her pulse quickened. Was he giving her another chance?

She inhaled their fragrant aroma and smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about last night. I was a jerk. I know you were only trying to help.” He stared down at his feet. “As you may have noticed, things between my mother and I are a bit strained.”

“I probably shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business either,” she said. “Apology accepted.”

“I was hoping you might want to have dinner with me tonight.”

She looked over her shoulder toward her office. The orders could wait. “I’d like that. What were you thinking for dinner?”

“The Seaside Grill?” he suggested. “It’s a nice evening.”

“Works for me.”

He reached for her hand and wrapped his fingers around her palm. His touch sent bursts of happiness through her body. She gazed at him for a moment as they walked down the hill toward the Seaside Grill. Candle Beach had brought some good changes to her life. A business on its way to success, and a new relationship.

At the restaurant, they opted to sit at one of the outdoor patio tables. A blue umbrella shaded them from the sun and a gentle breeze came off the water. After placing their dinner orders with the waitress, Dahlia leaned back in the wrought iron chair, enjoying the warmth and the view of the ocean.

“Are you glad you stayed?” he asked her.

Her eyes locked with his. “I am.”

He smiled. “Me too.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes while looking out to sea, both of them enjoying the atmosphere and company. The urge to tell him about his mother’s truck being vandalized kept welling up inside of her. She managed to quash it, but felt more and more uncomfortable about not telling him. She didn’t want to jeopardize their new relationship by keeping it from him, but she didn’t want to betray Wendy’s confidence either.

“Penny for your thoughts.” He reached across the table and put his hand on her arm.

She trailed her gaze back to him. “Sorry. I was thinking about everything I still want to do with the bookstore.” Her stomach twisted. There it was, another lie. If Wendy didn’t tell him about the break-in, she wasn’t sure how long she could keep it secret from him.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I’m a little ahead on my editing and I’d love to help out.”

He was being so nice that it completely tied her stomach up in knots. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to eat the shrimp pasta she’d ordered.

“I was thinking about painting the walls tomorrow. Tuesdays are slow at the bookstore and I’m going to close early. Are you up for it?”

He nodded. “I’ll be there around four if that works for you.”

“Well, thanks. I appreciate the help.”

The waitress brought their food. He dug into his steak, but she couldn’t do much more than twirl strands of angel hair pasta around her fork and take tiny bites.

“Do you not like your pasta?” he asked. “Would you rather have some of my steak and veggies?”

She smiled. He was so sweet. Why had she ever doubted this guy?

“No, it’s good. I’m just not very hungry tonight. I’m sure the leftovers will make a great lunch for me tomorrow.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he said. “So how was your first summer market weekend?”

“It was great.” She sighed. “You and my friends were right. I think it will really help promote the bookstore to tourists.”

A self-satisfied grin crossed his face. “I’m glad.”

He asked her more questions about the summer market and she relayed the story of the woman who asked about Susannah Garrity. As expected, he got a big chuckle out of it.

After finishing dinner, they walked up the hill to their homes. She paused in front of his cottage. “Thanks for dinner.”

He put his hand on the small of her back, turning her away from his house. “You may live close by, but I’m still making sure you get home okay.”

She wasn’t going to complain. Being with him tonight had been wonderful and she didn’t want it to end. They’d both been careful to avoid any talk of Wendy during dinner and she didn’t intend to change that anytime soon. She’d learned her lesson to stay out of his personal business, and had decided that extended to not telling him about the vandalism of Wendy’s truck. His mother would tell him when she was ready.

Soon, they were standing on her porch.

“Do you want to join me out here for a while?” she asked him. “The night is so beautiful that I don’t want to turn in yet. I could make coffee or open a bottle of wine.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Wine would be nice, thank you.” He followed her inside the house.

They returned to the porch with glasses of white wine and she snuggled up against him on the porch swing. There was something magical about being out in the evening with the sun down, the streets quiet, and the crashing of the waves on the beach. He put his arm around her, pulling her even closer.

* * *

The next afternoon, Garrett showed up at the bookstore ready to paint.

“Nice jeans.” Dahlia laughed. She’d never seen him wear anything so disheveled. His denim jeans were covered with paint splotches and there were holes in the knees. His white undershirt wasn’t any better, although it did emphasize his biceps, which she couldn’t help noticing.

“What, you don’t like my best Sunday clothes?” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she sighed in amusement.

“Let me change into my painting clothes.” She closed the shop and went into the bathroom to put on her full-length overalls and a tank top. She tugged her hair back into a ponytail and checked out her reflection in the mirror. Not too bad. Although they hadn’t been dating long, she felt more comfortable with him than she had with her ex-husband. There was something about Garrett that put her at ease.

She lugged the two large cans of paint she’d bought in Haven Shores back into the main room. It was strange to think that it hadn’t been that long ago that she was still mad at him, although now that she looked back on it, him picking her up in the storm had been the turning point in their relationship. He’d made her realize that while she didn’t need to bow down to anyone else’s ideas for her future, there was room for compromise in any relationship. She set the paint down in front of him.

“So what colors do you have for us today?” he asked. “Chartreuse? Neon pink?”

She slugged him lightly on the arm. “Ha-ha, very funny.” With a spackling knife, she opened up the paint cans, revealing the turquoise and baby-blue shades she’d selected. “I thought the tourists would appreciate the sea-like colors.” She shrugged. “Plus, they’ll brighten the store and offset the dark espresso bar nicely.”

He nodded. “I like it. Where should we start?”

She pointed at the wall behind the cash register. “Here. Let’s go with the turquoise.”

They’d covered the floor with plastic and painted half the wall when she caught him eying her brushstrokes.

“What?”

He stopped painting. “Nothing.”

“I can tell you want to say something. Spit it out.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but have you thought about blending the strokes more? It looks a little streaky in places.”

She stared at him, her blood starting to boil. Was he really trying to tell her how to paint her own store? This was her project. To calm herself, she took a deep breath and stepped back. He was just trying to help. And from this angle, she had to admit, his side did look nicer. He may have a point.

“I’ll try it. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He smiled at her and went back to work.

They finished painting the wall and she stepped back to admire their handiwork. “Looks good. Time for a break?” she asked.

“Gladly.” He set his brush down on the paint tray.

She gave him an evil grin and flicked him with paint.

“Really?” He wiped paint off his face, smearing it in the process.

“Uh, huh.” She swiped the brush across his face, adding to his war paint.

“Oh, you did not just do that.” He grabbed her arm that was holding the paintbrush and pulled her close against him.

Her eyes met his and her breath caught. The paintbrush dropped to the floor. He smiled and dipped her back to kiss her.

She put her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the kiss. After a bit, he gently moved her back to a standing position. She stared into his eyes.

“Well, if that’s my punishment…”

She picked up the brush and flicked him again. In response, he grabbed his paintbrush, doused it with paint and stroked her face with it as she bent down to get more ammunition from the can. She wobbled and toppled over, falling to the floor laughing.

“How do you like that?” He held his hand out to help her off the floor.

She yanked on his hand, pulling him to the floor beside her. “I like this better.” She covered his mouth with hers.

* * *

The next day, Garrett arrived ten minutes early to meet Dahlia for lunch at SushiGo, the new Japanese restaurant in town. They’d agreed on the time the day before, and he wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t there yet. But when twenty minutes had gone by and she still wasn’t there, he tried calling her. No answer.

Maybe she had the time wrong, he thought. He shook his head to clear the negative thoughts. She wasn’t Lisa and he couldn’t let his past affect his future. And he did want a future with Dahlia. She brought out something in him that he hadn’t felt in a while, a sense of joy in the everyday. Whenever she’d think of new ideas for the bookstore or talk about her friends, her whole face would light up and lift him out of even the foulest of moods. He hadn’t realized how boring his life was until he met her.

But where was she now? He told the hostess he didn’t need a table after all, and walked over to the bookstore. It was open and Gretchen sat behind the cash register. She waved him over.

“Hey, Garrett. How’s it going?”

He looked around. “Good, but Dahlia was supposed to meet me for lunch. Have you seen her?”

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ and her eyes narrowed. She pointed to the new children’s area. “Uh, she’s over there.”

Dahlia was balancing on a short ladder with a small paintbrush in her hands. On the wall in front of her, she’d painted a few woodland creatures and a meadow full of wildflowers. She swayed a little to the beat of the music playing through her earbuds, completely engrossed in what she was doing. A smile formed on his lips. He loved seeing her so happy. He stood to the side of the ladder so she could see him.

She pulled the earbuds out. “Garrett. What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at noon.” Panic filled her eyes as she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh my gosh. I had no idea it was so late.” She climbed down from the ladder. “I’m sorry. I got so caught up in my drawing, I lost track of time. Can we still go?”

“That’s okay. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Let me just tell Gretchen I’m leaving.”

She was back in a moment and looped her arm through his. “Ready.”

They walked to the restaurant and were seated immediately. He and Dahlia chatted easily during the meal, but he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that he’d been through this before with Lisa. She’d be so wrapped up in what she was doing that she’d completely forget to pay a bill she’d promised to pay or fail to remember plans she had with him. After a while, it took a toll on their relationship. He didn’t want that to happen with Dahlia, but he wasn’t sure how to stop it. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the beautiful woman in front of him.

* * *

As she looked around the bookstore on Thursday morning, pride surged through Dahlia. To Be Read now reflected more of her personality, while retaining some of Aunt Ruth’s as well. The brightly colored walls and emerald sofa melded perfectly with the rug Aunt Ruth had loved and the front window display invited customers to discover the perfect beach read.

Flying high on the success of the summer market weekend, Dahlia hadn’t thought much about increasing weekday sales. She grabbed a legal pad off Aunt Ruth’s desk to jot down ideas. What would draw people in? An ad in the weekly newspaper? A sale? Or maybe a contest of some sort?

All of those ideas had merit, but she wanted something to draw in people who were already shopping in town. Perhaps something outside the store that would increase attention. Maybe a sidewalk sale? She hadn’t seen many around town, but knew they were popular in other places.

The piles of hard-to-sell books stacked up in the back room would work well for a sidewalk clearance sale. The idea gathered steam. If memory served her correctly, there were a few tables leaning against a wall in the storage room. She found the tables, dusted them off and set them up outside of the store. On the tabletops, she artfully arranged the clearance books. Now, to bring in more people. She tapped her finger against her chin. Candle Beach Real Estate used wooden sandwich boards to attract customers. She called Gretchen and arranged to borrow a few.

About twenty minutes later, Gretchen lugged two sandwich boards into the bookstore. “Here you go,” she said. “What are you using them for?”

“I thought I’d put one up here in front of the store to attract attention and maybe one down on the corner. What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to provide a lot of free advertising for Candle Beach Real Estate.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Dahlia.

Dahlia laughed. “I’m going to make a sign on poster board and tape it to the sandwich boards. I want to advertise To Be Read’s sidewalk sale.”

“Good idea,” Gretchen said. “Keep them for as long as you need. We have tons of them for open houses.”

“Thanks. Now, back to the salt mines. I’ve got a ton to do.”

Gretchen said goodbye and left, and Dahlia reviewed her to-do list. She wanted to promote the bookstore’s sidewalk sale in the weekly paper. If she remembered correctly from Aunt Ruth’s advertising notes in her master guide to To Be Read, advertisements needed to be in by Thursday morning to get in Friday’s print run. She called Adam to confirm.

“Hi Adam. It’s Dahlia.”

“Good morning,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s not like I always need something, right?” She laughed. He was right. When she called or showed up on the newspaper’s doorstep, she usually needed his help.

“I want to place an ad for this week’s paper. Is it too late to do that?”

“No, you’re fine. What size advertisement were you thinking about?” he asked. They discussed the ad sizes and she decided on a quarter page ad featuring the sidewalk sale.

“You’ll have it by tonight,” she told him. She hung up the phone and placed her palms flat on the table, sliding them forward to deepen the stretch. The day had barely started and she’d made considerable progress on her marketing plans. Garrett would be proud.

In between customers, she opened the new bookstore laptop on the front counter and researched website design before diving into creating one. She wanted to create a sales site where customers could purchase books through a secure website. Her long-dormant design skills popped to the surface and she was proud of what she accomplished in a short time. She also set up a few social media pages and included those links on the advertisement to give to Adam.

Mid-afternoon, she came up for air and went outside. She thought she’d sold a lot of books off the clearance table and the almost-bare table confirmed her suspicion. She refilled the empty spaces and took a deep breath. The fresh air renewed her energy and she started to go back inside to make final edits to the ad.

Before she could do so, Mayor Chester Raines, Marsha’s husband, walked up to her.

“The town’s been talking about your remodeling at the bookstore and I wanted to see for myself,” he said.

“Wow, that’s great. I’d hoped to get some excitement going about the changes,” Dahlia said. “Let me show you the inside.”

Mayor Raines followed her inside. As he viewed the bookstore, a slow smile spread across his jowly cheeks. “The floors look wonderful, and I love the new seating area,” he said. “Ruth would be proud of you.”

Her face glowed. She hoped he was right about Ruth. Part of the reason she’d taken on the big project was for her own benefit, but the other part was to honor her aunt’s legacy.

He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I have some bad news for you.”

She groaned. What now?

“The Candle Beach town code doesn’t allow for sidewalk sales. As a tourist town, we try to portray a more pleasing image for tourists,” he said. He looked down at the floor. “Dahlia, I’m really sorry. I know you’re in a tough spot having to compete with the Book Warehouse and all.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “What about the benches outside of Hank’s Grocery or the patio tables outside of the Bluebonnet Café?”

“Those are within code. Tables of this sort aren’t. Perhaps you could move them inside the door?” He looked at her hopefully.

“But the whole point of a sidewalk sale is for it to be on the sidewalk.”

“I’m sorry,” Mayor Raines said. “We’re required to ask you to remove the tables. I wanted to come by and tell you myself because I’ve heard so many good things about your remodel.”

“Did someone report me to the town council?”

“Well, yes,” Mayor Raines said. “We did receive a complaint. I’m not at liberty to divulge who that was though. You understand.” He flicked his fingers against his hand and avoided eye contact.

“I think I have a good idea.” Agnes had struck again.

“Someone will be by later to check and make sure the code is being followed. Thank you again for understanding, and keep up the good work here.” He walked over to the romance novels and perused the selection. “While I’m here, I think I’ll pick up a book for my wife.”

“Let me know if you need any help.”

He nodded and continued checking out the titles.

Dahlia returned to her laptop and stared at the ad she’d designed for the sidewalk sale.

Not going to need that anymore, she thought. She held the cursor over the ‘delete object’ button on the free design program she’d downloaded to create the ad, but she couldn’t bring herself to click on it. She was getting sick of Agnes’s efforts to keep her from making the bookstore profitable. First it had been the visit from the health inspector, and then the blatant refusal to give her the money she needed. When those tactics had failed, she’d tried to keep her from selling at the summer market and stuck her behind the food booths when she’d obtained a spot. Now this.

If she could get past those trials, she could figure out a way around this as well. Inspiration struck. But she’d need help from another friend.

* * *

“You want to do what with my patio tables?” Maggie asked. She efficiently sorted out the baked goods that remained after the morning rush and repositioned them in the glass bakery case, adding some freshly baked pies to the bottom row.

“I want to have baskets of books on the tables. They’d remain outside of your store, but I’d have books available for sale and people could walk down the street to To Be Read to purchase them.” Dahlia fairly bounced in excitement. “It’s a win–win. Your customers get to have reading material while they’re drinking their morning coffee and I hook them and reel them in to the bookstore.”

“Hmm,” Maggie said, coming around to the same side of the display case as Dahlia. “It sounds interesting, but I’m still not sure.”

“Here, let me show you.” She picked up the rectangular basket of books she’d set on the floor and led Maggie out to the patio tables. Of the four tables, one was empty, and she placed the basket on the edge of the tabletop nearest to the brick wall. She pulled a small sign out of the basket and flipped it over to the side of the basket for customers to see. It informed them that the books in the basket were for sale and they could purchase them at the bookstore.

“But what if someone takes it without paying?” Maggie asked.

She shrugged. “These were extra books in my inventory that I was going to dispose of next week. If someone takes it without paying, I won’t be out much money. But, if they decide to purchase it and come in to the bookstore, I may gain a new customer.”

“Okay, works for me,” Maggie said. “Let’s try it out this week and see how things go.”

Dahlia hugged her. “Thanks a million, Maggie. I’ll go get the other three baskets.”

She returned to the bookstore and made up the other baskets. This idea was going to work. She’d adjusted her ad to reflect the sale being at the Bluebonnet Café. She anticipated gaining new customers not only from immediate book sales, but from the free advertising she received having the baskets on the tables at the popular town hangout.

Someone knocked at the back door and she let in the handyman who would be constructing the espresso bar.

“Hi, Elvis.”

“The bar’s here, Miss Winters. Where would you like me to install it?” he asked.

She directed him to the area she’d cleared and showed him where to hook up the plumbing. “I’m already receiving compliments on the floors,” she said.

He blushed. “Glad to hear it. I’ll get started on this now.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said. She ran the other baskets down to the Bluebonnet Café. A middle-aged man was sitting at the table with the basket, already reading one of the books.

She felt confident she’d bested Agnes again and knew she could handle anything the older woman could dish out. She only wished she knew why she hated her so much. As far as she knew, she hadn’t done anything to personally offend her, and Agnes couldn’t possibly be holding a grudge for something she had done as a teenager.

The patrons at the other tables accepted her offer to place books at their tables and she rushed back up the hill to check on Elvis’s progress.

* * *

Propped against the front door of the bookstore was a small white envelope. Dahlia picked it up and turned it over. Wendy’s name was scrawled across the front in black ink.

Why was Wendy getting mail left on the welcome mat, and how many people even knew she lived above the store? Weird all around. She carried the envelope into the bookstore.

The construction zone at the back had fallen into shambles.

“How’s it going?” She was afraid she wouldn’t like the answer.

Elvis frowned at her. “You’ve got the wrong size pipes for this type of work. I’m going to need to replace the pipes in the wall all the way back to the bathroom intersection.”

“Are you kidding? How much is that going to cost me?” she asked.

“It’ll take me at least an extra day and with materials…” He screwed up his face as he calculated the total. Dollar signs flashed across his face.

When he named his figure, she had to sit down. The espresso bar project would be at least twice the total she’d figured. She looked over at the bar, which sat forlornly in two pieces off to the side of the front desk. There was no going back at this point.

“Okay, let’s do it. I need to get this up and running before the weekend. I don’t want customers seeing this mess and thinking we’re closed.” She gestured at the sawdust and tools strewn across the hardwood floor in the construction zone. Thankfully, Elvis had tied up rudimentary ‘Do not enter’ tape around the project so no customers could enter the area and be hurt.

She got up and strode into the back room, gripping Wendy’s envelope. This would take some reworking of her plans. Thank goodness her mom had loaned her extra cash in case things went over the initial estimates. How had she known? She grinned. Her mother knew everything. Although she often joked about Vanessa being prepared for anything, she secretly hoped she’d inherited a portion of her talent.

After entering the new estimate for the espresso bar into her remodeling spreadsheet, she pushed the desk chair back and chugged water from the bottle on her desk. Things would be okay. It may have felt like one step forward, two steps back, but she was making progress. Next week, with the construction finished, this would all seem like a bad dream.

The envelope on the desk caught her eye. She picked it up and headed upstairs to Wendy’s apartment. The door was closed. She knocked twice and Wendy opened it, with her unruly hair tied up in a knot. Her face was flushed and a yoga mat lay unfurled in front of the TV.

“Hey,” Wendy said. “Sorry, was I too loud? I didn’t think my downward dog pose barked that much.” She chuckled at her own joke.

“No, I wasn’t sure you were even up here.” Dahlia held out the envelope. “Someone left this for you on the front door mat.”

“Weird. I wasn’t expecting anything.” She took the envelope and ran her finger along the sealed seam to open it. She pulled out a plain white index card and read the few words inscribed on it in red ink. The color drained from her face.

“What is it?” Dahlia had never seen Wendy so pale.

“Nothing.” She stuffed the card back into the envelope and dropped it in the recycling bin. With her back to Dahlia, she braced herself against the kitchen table and took several deep breaths.

“Wendy, who was that from?”

“Nobody. It’s not a big deal. Somebody I used to know.” She turned around, a fake smile pasted on her face. Fear quivered behind the edges of her smile.

Something wasn’t right.

Dahlia plucked the note out of the recycling bin. Scrawled across the plain white index card were the words I found you.

She held the card up to Wendy. “Who left this for you?”

Wendy shook her head. “I don’t know.” She sat down in a kitchen chair and shrank back against the seat.

“We’ve got to tell the police about this,” Dahlia said.

“Tell them what? That someone left a note for me at the bookstore?” Wendy sighed. “They’ve got better things to do than investigate a vaguely threatening note.”

“What if it has something to do with the vandalism of your truck?” Was someone stalking Wendy? The older woman hunched over in her chair, hugging her arms against her body. Why was she trying to act so nonchalant about the vandalism and note? What was going on here? “You should tell Garrett.”

“No!” Wendy said sharply. “There’s no need to tell him. He already thinks I’m full of drama. This would only add fuel to the fire.” She stood from the table, grabbed the note from Dahlia and ripped it into tiny pieces, which she dumped into the recycling bin. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have to get back to the bookstore?”

“Okay, but if something else happens, let me know. For the record, I really think you should tell the police. If nothing else, it will be on file.”

Wendy nodded, and Dahlia forced herself to walk down the stairs. Leaving Wendy alone and not notifying the authorities seemed wrong. She may have been correct that the police wouldn’t do anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to tell them. For now, she’d respect Wendy’s wishes, but if anything else happened, she was heading straight for the Candle Beach police station.