Amos didn’t have a chance to read it, because Edie made it disappear. A new article opened and the older woman relaxed a little.

“This one’s better,” she pronounced. “Some twerpy little jerk published a very unflattering exposé on your daughter. But he retracted it and now wants to help other . . . well, other people.”

Amos frowned, stuck on the first part of her statement. “What did his unflattering exposé say?”

Edie leaned around the screen to look at Abigail, who had stopped reading and was watching them with open curiosity.

“Stuff that nobody needs to know,” Edie replied. “Little pitchers, Amos.”

“All right,” he said. He’d find out later. “Do you know how I can find her?”

“Well, the first article, the one about that program from last week, it said that she lives in New Orleans.”

“Which is very far,” he said, disappointed.

“True, but as of four days ago, she was in California. In Sacramento. Which happens to be where Daisy Dawson lives. I bet your son Gideon lives there too, or spends a lot of time there, at the very least. The author of this retraction also lives in Sacramento. I’d say that’s where you need to go.”

“All right.” Amos picked up his backpack, but Edie stayed him with a light touch to his arm.

“Hold your horses, Papa Bear,” she said mildly. “Before you go charging out of here, maybe we can find out exactly where in Sacramento you need to go.”

Amos sagged back into his chair, feeling foolish. “You’re right, of course.”

Edie patted his arm. “Give me a minute or two.” She turned her attention to Abigail. “You finished that book already?”

Abigail nodded, worry in her eyes. “I did. Papa, are you well?”

Amos made himself smile. “I am. Maybe we can find another book.” Rising, he reached for her hand. “Ready, Abi-girl?”

“Yes, Papa,” she said obediently, but her worry remained.

He led Abigail back to the shelf from which Edie had taken the Ramona book. “There are more books about Ramona,” he said. “I remember from when I was a little boy.” He pulled all the Ramona books from the shelf and took them back to the computer table. “I’m not sure which one comes next.”

“I can help with that,” the librarian said with a smile. “I’m Miss Millie. I’m Miss Edie’s friend. What’s your name, little darling?” she asked.

“Abigail,” his daughter answered very shyly.

“Well, Abigail, I love it when kids come to the library, and I love these books. Let’s go sit over here in these comfy chairs, okay?”

Amos nodded gratefully when Abigail looked up for permission. “I’ll be right over there with Miss Edie,” he promised. “I won’t leave, I promise.”

“I asked her to help you,” Edie said when he’d returned to the computer table. “I have to leave soon, but I don’t want to just desert you two. Millie and I have been friends for years and she’s way better at this computer stuff than I am.”