Her head went back and forth in a super-slow-motion version of “No.” “I’ll be fine in a few minutes. I just need to sit on something that isn’t bouncing every cell in my body.”

Patting her knee, I said again, “I am so sorry. No one else has had motion sickness at all. I never once thought about the possibility.” As a small child, I’d had problems myself, but since I’d never had any troubles on the bookmobile, I figured no one would.

“Seasickness and I are good friends,” she said into her hands. “But it’s been years since I had any troubles in a car. I was fine, though, until we got on Kolb Road.”

Kolb was one of those classic Up North roads, full of curves and hills and curves and valleys and more curves. And lots and lots of potholes.

“I’m sorry, Minnie.” Holly took a deep breath. “But I don’t think this is going to work out.”

It was a conclusion I’d come to three hours and fifty-nine minutes earlier. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure out another way.” What exactly that might be I wasn’t sure, but there had to be options. After all, there were other employees at the library, right? Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to work on the bookmobile?

After escorting Holly to the break room and making sure she had water and something mild to eat, I headed out to shift books from vehicle to building and back.

“You want some help?” called a male voice.

I turned. “Hey, Josh. If you don’t mind, sure.” And since I was pretty sure that behind the highly unusual offer—as in it had never happened before ever—lurked a predictable conversation, I cut to the chase. “Did you talk to Rafe? About how long he waited for me?”

Josh shook his head. “Never would have thought Niswander had that much patience.”

I’d often thought the same thing. “Three years is a long time.”

“Three?” Josh’s eyebrows drew together. “He told me he waited more than twenty.”

“A nice story,” I said, “but I don’t believe it. No one meets a skinny twelve-year-old with scabs on her knees and falls so much in love with her that he patiently waits until she’s thirty-five to propose.”

“Kind of what I figured.” Josh picked up the book-filled crate I’d pointed to. “And I love Mia a lot, but I don’t want to wait until I’m fifty to marry her.”

“How long would you?” I asked. “Wait, I mean?”

Halfway down the steps, he paused. And kept pausing long enough that I was starting to wonder if I’d have time to eat my peanut butter sandwich before I was due to meet with the Friends of the Library about the winter lecture series schedule.