She settled the crutches under her arms and followed him, hobbling up the boardwalk steps. “My shop’s that way.”

The stores faced the seawall and went on for a block and a half. The boardwalk started at the old train depot and ended shortly past her shop with a gazebo that overlooked the busy marina. At the moment, however, all was quiet. Boat masts glowed in the moonlight, and water rippled against the seawall.

The boardwalk was a hot spot for tourists, as the price of her building had attested. Sophie and her mother had debated the location for a long time, and the boardwalk had been their preferred spot. When the old house-turned-boutique became available shortly before her mother’s death, she encouraged Sophie to jump on it.

“I’ve never been to this part of town,” Aiden said. “It’s nice. Quaint.”

“It’s pretty busy on summer days.”

“A great location for your bookshop.”

Sophie observed the entrance of her store with fresh eyes. The two-story building sported weathered, white clapboard siding. A large gray-blue canopy protruded from the building and would shade the entryway on sunny days. Empty flower boxes awaited a flat of fresh petunias, and the spacious porch cried out for Adirondack chairs. The shingled sign, bearing the name of her store, hung from the eaves, unreadable in the dark.

Sophie slipped the key from her purse and unlocked the door. Despite the painkiller in her system, her ankle throbbed from the short walk. Aiden had been right about keeping it elevated.

She opened the door and pushed inside, a musty smell assaulting her nose. The place needed airing out. The beam of Aiden’s flashlight cut across the front two rooms, previously the house’s living room and dining room. Worn beige carpet covered the floors, and walls the color of Pepto Bismol surrounded them.

“Yikes,” Aiden said. “I see why you’re so adamant about painting.”

“It used to be a boutique. The carpet needs to go too. The original wood floor is under it, and from what I’ve seen it looks pretty good. I’ll have to give it a couple coats of polyurethane, but I need to get the walls painted first.” Or rather, he did.

“It’s a nice space, though. Perfect for a bookshop.” He shone the beam at the hallway, which led to two additional rooms on opposite sides. Farther down the hall were a half bath, an office, and the stairwell leading to her living quarters.

“The supplies are over here.” She hobbled to the corner where she’d dropped a heap of hardware store bags and the five-gallon buckets of primer and paint.