“Er. Yes. Thought I’d try a food group other than heartbreak,” he quipped, laugh-cringing.

“Ah,” the woman said and, either from kindness or horror, turned back to what she was doing.

Truman threw pasta, sauce, a few apples, some more cheese, a box of cereal, milk, and some microwave popcorn into a basket. He tried to picture Greta’s kitchen to remember if she had a microwave and couldn’t. He added a few more things to his basket and lugged it to the counter.

“There you go,” the woman said soothingly. Truman felt illogically soothed.

“Um. Are you…Muskee?” he asked.

The woman smiled at him, revealing large teeth and twinkling brown eyes. “I’m one of ’em. Carla Muskee. This place has been in my husband’s family for three generations.”

“Wow. Cool.”

He fiddled with a pack of gum at the display and then awkwardly added it to his pile so she didn’t think he’d messed it up.

“So you know a lot about Owl Island, then? I mean, I assume?”

“I know you’re not from around here,” Carla said warmly. “And I’m gonna guess that you’re a friend of Greta Russakoff’s. How’d I do?”

“Does Greta only own one sweater or something?” Truman muttered, looking down at his chest. It wasn’t even a particularly recognizable sweater, just a cream-and-brown wool knit.

Carla winked. “My son made that sweater.”

“What?”

“Yup. He sells ’em in the back.”

Carla gestured past the grocery section to where a few shelves of home goods gave way to a wooden display of knit wool sweaters in the same style as the one he wore.

“Oh, wow, how weird,” he said. “I mean, the coincidence, not the sweater. Or not that your son makes sweaters. I mean—”

“I know what you meant,” Carla said kindly.

Truman felt his cheeks burn.

“Er, I was just wondering. Do you know of an author called Agatha Tark?”

Carla cocked her head in thought. “Don’t think so… Was she the one did those mystery books?”

“That’s Agatha Christie,” Truman said gently. “These are fantasy books. Thanks anyway.”

“If it’s books you’re after, you should go talk to Maisey and Don over at the Queen Bee.” She pointed out the window.

“Okay, thanks.”

Once he’d paid, he realized that he’d bought too much to carry home easily. He tucked a few small items in the pockets of Greta’s jacket and shoved the handles of two bags up over his wrists, grabbing the others in the most balanced way he could.

“You gonna be all right?” Carla asked. “I could lock the store for a sec and drive you.”

Truman was so touched by her kindness that he almost teared up.

“That is so nice of you, thank you, but I’ll be fine. See you soon, I’m sure!”