I lay the wrinkled pages faceup, corners overlapping so that it resembles a paper bouquet from above, place the photo album gently in the middle, and stand. One photo, I tell myself. I call it Nonsense and Nonsensibility, pack the contents back into their box, and head home to get ready for dinner with the Williamses.

A train slows down enough for me to catch it. I have a plan.

Mark and Trisha agree to stay at the hotel while I go to the bookstore alone.

They have come with me under the guise of needing a vacation, but I know they’re coming to check out Lochbrook and Val’s and …

Nolan.

The Michigan sun is setting and everything is golden, like I’m exploring some fictional world. The burgundy door with its cool metal handle is part of an elaborately crafted book. The tinkle of the bell that sounds overhead as I step into Val’s signals that magic is near.

But it’s not magic that comes barking down the stairs, toenails scraping for purchase on the tile before hitting carpet and flinging itself at me in a furry whirlwind of excited keening.

I manage to get out a single unthreatening “No!” before he hits me, and I find myself in the unfortunate position of being flat on my back in Val’s entryway once more.

Alex doesn’t come to my rescue this time, but his mom does, standing imperiously over me like a Roman goddess and extending a graceful hand.

“You are late,” she says.

I rub the back of my head to inspect for knots. “Late?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Amelia, what did I say about fools?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

She raises the other eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Miss Griffin?”

I try to summon the whales, but maybe they’re jet-lagged from flying alongside the plane.

“Where’s Nolan?” I ask.

Valerie looks at me hard before raising her eyes to narrow them at something over my shoulder.

“It’s Wednesday,” another familiar voice says.

I twirl to see Alex beaming at me, arms open for a hug, which I gladly run into.

“Fort day?” I grin.

“I’ll take you,” he says. “If it’s okay with you, Mom. I’ll need to close the café.”

Valerie appraises us, and I feel my joy slipping beneath her stern countenance. She hasn’t smiled at me once since I got here.

Her tone is commanding when she asks, “Will you be available to take photos of our Christmas party?”

She wants to know if I’m staying. My face lights up.

“Put me down for the next two Christmas parties,” I tell her.

She still doesn’t smile, but her eyes are kind when she looks to her son and says, “All right. Take her to see the boy. And take that mongrel with you.”