But I come back to myself. My heart slowly pumping into wakefulness, ticking down the minutes until I’m back on the plane headed to Texas, to the Williamses’ open arms and their plans.

I wake with my head in Nolan’s lap and his hand resting uncomfortably atop my eye. The first Orman book is wedged between us, poking at my neck, and Valerie’s borrowed dress has bunched into a gauzy blue lump under my knees. Nolan groans and cracks his neck, equally unhappy about our sleeping arrangements.

“We fell asleep?” I ask, a stupid question.

“I guess,” Nolan says, a stupid answer. He has spent the night slumped against the side of a bookcase.

“Geniuses, the both of you,” a deep voice adds. I startle, jerking from the floor and crushing Nolan’s nose in the process. The room has suddenly shrunk to the size of my rental car and we are all crammed into too few seats.

“Walter, heel. Wally, stop. Wally! That’s enough!” Nolan helplessly tries to bat the overeager mutt away while I pull on his collar, with no luck.

Mr. Larson, seemingly unperturbed by the commotion that is partly his responsibility, steps around the mass of fur and tangled body parts and sets a tray of steaming coffee mugs on the low reading table.

“Val said to send this up. Make yourselves presentable and then she wants to see you both in her office. One of those mugs is for Walter, so don’t go gettin’ greedy, understand?”

Nolan half glares at Mr. Larson over his cupped hands, trying to contain the trickle of blood coming from his nose. I grab a napkin from the tray and shove it at him, panicked.

“Are we in trouble?” I ask.

“I sure hope so,” Alex says, appearing behind Mr. Larson’s shoulder with a wicked grin. The room shrinks another two sizes as his smile fills the space. “I mean, seeing as how you spent the night together under Mom’s roof and all.”

“Good morning, Alexander,” Nolan says drily. “You appear to have slept well.”

Alex’s grin widens. “I did indeed. But clearly not as well as you.”

“Don’t you have to attend to the bazaar or something?” Nolan asks, swapping out the bloodied napkin for a tissue that Alex pulls from his messenger bag. Is it possible to die of blood loss through the nose?

“Only the one meeting. Christ, that’s a lot of blood. Amelia, if you wanted to kill him you could have just asked for my help. We could have spiked his cereal or something.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. “Do you know where Valerie is?”

And because I’m pretty sure this bookstore is enchanted, my question is a summons. Valerie stands at the door, hands on hips.

“Mr. Larson. Alexander. Would you give us a moment?”