In October, it would be the twentieth anniversary of the publication of book one in the Dead of Zagørjič series, and Truman had convinced Maisey and Don that the Queen Bee should have an event to celebrate, given that the series had been penned on Owl Island. They had ordered copies to sell and put on display, they were going to host a meetup discussion for any TDoZ fans who wanted to come, and they were designating the first in the series the community read for their book club. Granted, their book club only had six consistent members, but Truman had contacted libraries all over the mainland, and three of their book clubs were participating as well.

Honestly, Truman still couldn’t believe that his lifelong obsession with the Dead of Zagørjič had culminated in him living in the house where Agatha Tark wrote the series. In fact, he couldn’t help but think that it was a certain kind of cosmic meant-to-be that the books that had been his succor during times of loneliness would one day lead him to the place he’d call the home of his heart and the man he’d call the love of his life.

“I’m so close, Maisey, I swear. I found the last place she lived, and they have a forwarding address that she left, but I haven’t had time to check it out yet.”

This would be the icing on the cake: finding Agatha Tark and convincing her to come out of hiding and to the Queen Bee to sign books during the anniversary celebration.

“I’ll tell Don,” she said. “But you’ve got a week, and then we’ve got to get those posters done.”

She stabbed a finger in his direction when she said week, and Truman nodded compliantly, even though he was fairly certain that she and Don never did anything until the very last minute.

“Noted.” He put the box he was carrying on the counter. “Okay, here are the planners. These are the weekly and the undated, like you said.”

“Oh, wonderful.” She began stacking them on the display beside the counter. “Nan Wilkins needs undated because she’s developed her own method of keeping time, you see?”

“Oh?” Truman inquired.

“Yes, she’s redistributed time so that there are more days in the months she likes best and fewer in the other months, and then more hours in the days she likes best of the months she most enjoys. It’s very complicated, but those are the basics.”

“Oh, well, great for Nan Wilkins, but these are still laid out in months, so I’m not sure they’ll be to her, uh, specifications.”

Maisey waved him off. “Doesn’t matter, dear. She’s loony as a toon, and besides, she prepaid.”

Maisey winked at him and he winked back and waved goodbye.