“What on earth for?” The customer sat next to Emmajean, fully invested in the outcome of the story.

It was one of the many reasons Violet loved the shop. Aside from it being a source of income and a space for Trudy to work and sell her art, it provided a place for people to be and to belong. To connect with friends and make new ones. And to get an earful, often compliments of Emmajean.

As Emmajean continued the story of the runaway reader, Violet took the broom to the back corner to sweep where two kids had munched on cookies while their mom browsed the aisles. The bell jangled over the sound of the women’s laughter, and when Violet paused to stretch her back, Maya was standing at Trudy’s worktable. Her hair was swirled into a long braid down the center of her back, and she wore another Sugar Shack shirt and a pair of shorts. Violet’s gaze dropped to a square-shaped bulge in Maya’s back pocket.

Violet swept while Trudy and Maya conversed, Maya’s quiet voice and Trudy’s quick notes swaying gently back and forth. Maya trailed her fingers through the jar of blue sea glass and pulled out a single piece, long and cylindrical. She handed it to Trudy, who set it against a slim black-and-white gull feather threaded through a snarl of driftwood. Trudy tilted the piece back and forth, and the light caught the sea glass like a winking eye.

It was uncanny. Her sister rarely let anyone be that close to her while she worked, usually preferring a healthy bubble of space between her and any curious customers, and sometimes even Violet. But this was the second time she’d let this stranger not just stand close but participate in the process with her.

As Violet watched from behind the shelf of straw beach bags, Maya’s fingers worked swiftly, twining thin pieces of driftwood with a handful of sea oats. Trudy was still as she watched, then she took a lump of speckled sea glass and set it against the base of the wood. She scribbled a note and handed it to Maya, whose face lit up with a smile.

A few minutes later, Emmajean and her new friend gathered their things and rose from the chairs up front. “I need to be getting home,” Emmajean said. “I asked Hap to take care of dinner tonight, but the poor man gets spooked when he has to do any little thing in the kitchen. You’d think I asked him to prepare beef bourguignon, but it’s just a frozen lasagna!”

With a wiggle of her fingers, Emmajean walked out, the bag of books bumping against her hip. A moment later, Maya checked her watch and spoke quietly to Trudy before moving toward the counter, where Violet now stood. Maya’s shoulders lifted in a deep inhale, then dropped, and she slipped her hand into her pocket and withdrew the small shell box. She set it on the counter between them, and they both stared at it. Violet bit her lip to keep from speaking first.