My goal is to become a worldwide sensation, naturally, but for now I’ll start local, working my way up from Mary Had a Little Boutique salesgirl to president of Hughes & Co., home of niche cards that nobody asked for but everyone definitely needs. You should see me at it—I’m like a puma with the customers. I could sell a shark to a clownfish, and I’m going to put Magnolia Hope Chest out of business.

I am granting myself this one tiny grudge to keep me warm at night. Chip and Joanna Gaines’s folksy shop is direct competition for Mary Had a Little Boutique, and for that unforgivable reason, they must go.

“Bettie.”

“Huh?” I whip around.

Kaia returns my stare emptily. “I said I’m happy for you.”

“No, it was . . . it sounded like someone else just said my name.”

We both survey the crop of buildings: Cheers Chocolatiers, Rocky Road Ice Cream Parlor, Moonlit Cinema, sidled up against each other like cozy old friends.

Nobody I recognize is afoot, but I dart along the crosswalk anyway, peering into the chocolaterie, at a husband-and-wife team in tall white hats who sculpt chocolate while patrons look on. Then I hear it again:

“Bettie.”

The voice keeps slipping in from changing directions: now it’s coming from behind me. In the big glass display window at a Verizon Wireless, there are about thirty cell phones lit up with a familiar face, thirty identical Halls waving.

I stop dead.

Before I can move again, the image wipes, screen blank before readjusting to read Verizon Wireless.

“What?” Kaia asks, following my gaze. I press my fingertips to the glass, staring, waiting for Hall to come back. “Do you need a new phone?”

“No,” I croak. “Hold on, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Her attention falls upon Silver Mine Dining, where we’re currently supposed to be enjoying grilled cheese sandwiches. “How long is your lunch break?”

“I’ll be quick.”

I duck into the store and check out the phones, thinking maybe he left evidence of himself somehow. But there’s nothing. When I return, Kaia squints. “What was that about?”

“I thought I saw Hall on the phone screens.”

She glances. “Was he?”

“I don’t know.”

We start walking again, but my muscles are rubbery. I keep craning to glance back at the store. “I know what you mean,” she says conversationally. “I keep thinking I hear Courtney’s voice. Or I’ll see a purple jacket or a purple sign, and it’s like my heart tries to jump out of my body because for a millisecond, I think it’s her.” At my inquisitive expression, she adds, “Courtney has purple hair.”

“Maybe your heart is telling you that it wants to see Courtney.”

She sighs. “My heart needs to shut up.”

“Feel your feelings, Kaia.”

“I refuse.”

We head into the diner, grabbing two counter seats. But just as we’re about to order, someone walks through the door and in the brief space of time before the door swings shut behind them, I hear Hall’s voice again. “Hold on,” I blurt, then run back outside, my poor sister disoriented behind me.