Library days were often walk-to-work days for me. Coward that I was, rain would push me to drive, as would freezing rain and howling blizzards, but in every other kind of weather I walked up the hill from the marina to the heart of Chilson. Normally in mid-September, the summer crowds had already tailed off, but a recent article in a popular national magazine aimed at retirees seemed to be bringing more folks to town than usual. Though northwest lower Michigan had been a popular location for retirees for decades, the article was catching a lot of interest and there was some grumbling that you could have too much of a good thing. But I decided not to think about that and focused on enjoying the blue sky up above and the sun on my face.

“Morning, Minnie,” Tom Abinaw said as he swept away a leaf that had had the temerity to fall in front of his store.

Tom, known throughout the land as Cookie Tom, was the skinniest baker I’d ever met. How he managed to cook such amazing pastries yet stay so thin was a great mystery of life. “Morning, Tom. Bookmobile day tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I’ll have a bag waiting.”

Tom had my eternal gratitude for giving me a reduced rate on the cookies I bought for bookmobile patrons. Even better, in summer, he let me come in the back door to avoid the long line that snaked through the store.

“You’re the best!” I called over my shoulder.

“How nice of you to say so,” said a voice from the other side of the street. “But what is it I’m best at doing?”

I grinned at the fiftyish dark-haired woman sitting on the front step of a retail store. “Pretty much anything you feel like,” I said.

And I meant that from the bottom of my heart. Pam Fazio had spent most of her life in Ohio and in her old life she’d spent decades working graphic design and marketing for a corporate conglomerate. One morning she’d woken up, realized she was unhappy, and cast about for something new to do.

Thanks to a random website search, she’d seen a picture of Chilson’s downtown and instantly decided to become a part of it. Thus, Pam now owned and ran the very successful Older Than Dirt. Its eccentric collection of old and new fit into Chilson’s retail landscape like a hand in a glove and I was beyond pleased that we were friends.

“Got an extra, if you want one.” Pam nodded at her steaming mug of coffee and patted the seat next to her.