He ordered a large drip coffee to go, then headed out, only to pause at the front wall, where a bulletin board had a big calendar showing town events through New Year’s, along with different notices. Someone was selling a “gently used” Barbie DreamHouse. Someone else had found a large great white shark’s tooth on a chain by the bookstore.

There was a reminder about the first snowfall, explaining it really did have to snow for fifteen full minutes and cover the ground to be the actual first snowfall. When that occurred, horns and sirens would sound, and all those interested should meet in The Wreath for the celebration.

“These people need to get a life,” Micah murmured to himself.

He saw that on the first of December, the city Advent calendar would begin. Residents were reminded that participation was encouraged, especially when the daily activity involved helping out a neighbor.

He went outside and told himself that small towns were different from his life in LA. Not that he had a life in LA anymore—he hadn’t lived in his house in over a year. Not since he’d lost Adriana and the baby. First he’d been in the hospital for a couple of weeks, then he’d had nearly five months in rehab, relearning how to do things like walk and dress himself. He’d spent a month in Australia, thinking the change in scene would help him recover, but it hadn’t. Since then he’d been moving from place to place, looking for something he couldn’t define. Which made finding it nearly impossible.

He walked along the storefronts, gazing in windows. He had to circle around a couple of women pushing strollers—a painful reminder that if the drunk driver had swerved left instead of right, he and Adriana would have an eight-month-old now and it would be his first Christmas. Instead, Micah was alone with a battered psyche and enough memories to sink a ship...or a man.

Micah finished his coffee and tossed the paper cup into a recycling bin. The day was clear and sunny, but bitterly cold, and his thin jacket wasn’t doing enough to keep him warm. He told himself when he got back to his room at the B and B, he would go online and order something warmer to be shipped overnight. Maybe he’d get a couple of plaid flannel shirts while he was at it.

He was still chuckling at the thought of owning a flannel shirt when his phone rang. He answered without checking to see who had called, then wished he hadn’t when he heard a familiar female voice say, “What’s so funny?”

“Hello, Electra.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“It would take too long to explain.”