We settle on an amount surely lower than its value, but Alice says they’re pleased that his truck—nicknamed Beauty—is going to a good home.

Now, Beauty belongs to me.

I happily put my busyness aside when Marigold arrives on Thursday for our game night. She’s alone, driving a cute yellow VW Bug with eyelashes on its headlights and daisy stickers plastered to its sides.

“No Shadow Man tonight?” I ask after gushing about her cute car.

“Working. Farm emergency,” she replies dully.

“A girls’ night, then. Just how I prefer it.”

Before I invite her in, Peter Pike appears around the corner, carrying his knit hat and wringing it like a wet paper towel.

“Oh, Marnie, sorry,” he says, noticing my guest. “Didn’t think you’d have company.”

I chuckle. “I usually don’t. Want to come in? We’re having a game night.”

He glances awkwardly at his feet and then full-on stares at Marigold. He says nothing for two awkward beats and then, “Marigold, it’s nice to see you again.”

Her shoulders tense, and her lips push together. “Peter Pike.”

My brow quirks over their obvious history. We shared the same high school—Marigold, two years younger than me, and Peter, between us. Perhaps they were friends. But, judging by the way Marigold’s arms fold, I doubt they’re friends now.

Peter seems disappointed. “I need to talk to you, but I’ll come back.”

“No need.” I wave him to the porch. I push the front door open and tell Marigold to make herself at home. She’s happy to disappear, closing the door quickly behind her. “What’s up, Pete?”

He looks nervous. “Um, it’s Mom. We thought you were moving out, and she promised this place to her sister, Aunt Charity.”

The news rattles me, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Mercy Pike, merciful in name only, has wanted me out since she moved in with her son. She spends her days on his front porch or at the picture window, grumbling over anything and everything her eyes partake, like a grumpy queen with no power. “Are you sure you can handle Mercy and Charity?” I joke.

His large shoulders bounce in a shrug, and he scratches his messy brown hair. “They’re family.”