Hot tea ready at her elbow, she opened the package. Carefully slitting the package open, she discovered she’d been partially correct. When she tipped the contents out on the table, a book emerged. But not a standard, mass-produced hardcover. The cover was dark green, worn leather. The edges were battered and faded to a lighter mossy green. But, even showing its age, it was a gorgeous old book. Thumbing the edge, she discovered the pages were thick and likely hand cut. Seeing no title or author printed on the cover, she flipped it open to examine the title page.

Lizzie’s eyesight wasn’t perfect. A few too many late nights cuddled in bed with her Kindle, or one too many paperbacks read by flashlight under the covers as a child—who knew? But she passed her driver’s eye exam every time it came up, and really, who could read the tiny white letters on street signs? That’s what GPS was for. Still, it was possible her eyesight was more impaired than she thought. Because those tiny, faded letters, swam on the page.

She closed the book, rubbed her eyes, then got up and flipped on an extra set of lights. Once again sitting in front of the book, she flipped the front cover open…and couldn’t believe her eyes. Bold red ink, where there had been faded blue. And there was no question—the words on the page swam…and flipped…and maybe even glowed. Thump. She let the book fall closed.

Confused by the book’s contents, several competing questions pushed into her mind. “Who might have sent it?” won the contest, since that was a question she might be able to answer. Standing up, she walked over to the recycle bin and retrieved the discarded padded envelope.

Just as she’d seen on her initial inspection, there was no return address to mark the sender, and no postage mark. She shook the envelope sharply, cut side down. But no note appeared. She reached her hand inside and swept from side to side to ensure no message was hiding or stuck inside. Nothing.

This was the moment when average Lizzie Smith might have decided she’d been the victim of mail tampering—perhaps LSD? Average Lizzie might think she was hallucinating, maybe feverish? Average Lizzie might have decided she needed medical attention.

But she didn’t call a friend for a ride to the hospital. She didn’t call her doctor to schedule a checkup. She didn’t even make an eye appointment with the ophthalmologist. What Lizzie did was sit down, drink her tea, tuck her feet under a napping dog…and study a book.

This was the day Lizzie Smith decided that, while she might not be perky, brilliant, artistic, or gorgeous—she might not be average, either.

Chapter 2

Two years later…