Charlotte had laughed in his face (digitally) and said, I’m a public defender not a freaking hall monitor. And I want to murder my bosses on the regular, so.

When Charlotte’s name dropped off the text, Germaine wrote, So how are you really??

Ughh, shitty.

I’m so sorry bb.

I know C’s right and like obviously it would’ve been bad to never know, but…

But you would’ve gotten to continue being with someone you loved. I get it. It’s not like you just stop loving someone because they hurt you.

Yup.

For some reason, the image of the florist from earlier popped into his head then. Ash, right. The image of Ash holding out the beautiful rose to him. Ash dropping his large hand on the dog’s soft head.

You know, I did meet someone from the island earlier. I wonder if he’d know about whether Agatha lived here…

Great idea, Germaine agreed, and Truman sent them a silent bubble of gratitude for always understanding when someone wanted to change the subject.

***

Having mentioned asking Ash about Agatha Tark made Truman realize that there were likely many people on the island who might have known her if she did in fact live here. And since he’d eaten all the cheese and chocolate in the house, he decided to venture back out to the general store and procure supplies for actual meals.

He bundled up in Greta’s heavy wool sweater and, since he figured he might as well, grabbed her thick winter coat (too short in the sleeves and too small to zip but still very warm), hat, and gloves.

Owl Island possessed a desolate beauty. The sky was a grayish blue, snow fell softly, and the weathered clapboard buildings stood dignified and remote. Main Street, however, was anything but desolate. Fairy lights glittered the entire length of the business district, looping across the street and up and down both sides. Benches sat outside many of the businesses, and Truman imagined that in the warmer weather, they would be full of locals chatting and sharing coffees.

The streetlamps were charming globes set in metal bases, some with ships on them and some with carved rope, and all the signs appeared to be hand-painted. Particularly charming was one that promised ICE CREAM DREAM and was rendered in drippy pastel writing. It appeared to be closed for the winter. Apparently he’d been so hunched over with cold the previous evening that he hadn’t noticed any of this.

Truman passed a coffee shop called Owl Eyes (also sporting a sign that announced it was closed for the season), a hardware store with a sign that simply said HARDWARE STORE, and a drugstore with a faded sign announcing RX & MORE!

The bell above the door in Muskee’s General Store tinkled his arrival, and he stamped off the snow.

“Back again!” crowed the woman at the counter.