Truman wasn’t sure about all that, but he nodded politely.

Maisey started moving the bags to the counter and Truman bent to help her. They were mostly books, with a few random gardening tools mixed in. As Truman lifted the final bag onto the counter, the bottom ripped and a large, hardcover book slid out. On the cover was a botanical sketch of a rose stem. It was titled Thorns.

Truman’s eyes widened and visions of Ash danced in his head.

“Yeah,” Maisey said with a knowing smile. “Kinda like that.”

It’s just a sign that it’s nice you’re helping Ash get Thorn in working order, that’s all. Nothing to do with Ash himself.

Maisey was watching him intently. Flustered, he shrugged into his coat and shoved Greta’s knit hat over his head. “Is there a place I can get take-out coffee on Main Street?”

“Yes, the Hardware Store.” She pointed across the street to the store called the Hardware Store.

Truman cocked his head. “But, like, good coffee?”

“Oh yes, best in town. Tell Bob I sent you.”

Truman thanked her.

“Oh, Truman. Did you boys talk to Julia about the woman you were trying to find?”

“Who’s Julia? Sorry, I’m at capacity with all the new names.”

“Ashleigh’s mother. She knows everyone. Well. Sometimes.”

“Oh. No, not yet. Thanks.”

The bell tinkled cheerily behind him, and Truman crossed the street.

Ash’s mother? Why hadn’t Ash suggested her as a source of information? Clearly they got along fine if he’d borrowed her coat for Truman.

Maybe he doesn’t want her to meet you.

The door to the Hardware Store didn’t have a tinkling bell but an ancient buzzer that sounded somewhere in the depths of the shop.

Truman had planned to walk across the street and poke his head in for a moment in case Maisey was watching him, then go find a real coffee shop. But there, just inside the door, was a coffee setup that looked inviting.

“Truman!” boomed a voice from his left, startling him into a display of snow shovels.

“Uh, yes?”

A large, bearded man emerged from between the shelves. He wore padded Carhartt overalls, an orange-and-brown flannel shirt, and worn work boots. “Maisey told me you’d be stopping by.”

“How?” Truman muttered, alarmed. Did the Owl Island phone chain have the power to disturb the space-time continuum?

“You’ll be wanting two coffees, yes? Cappuccinos? Lattes? I’ve recently gotten very into cortados.”

“Wow, um. Yeah, two lattes, I guess. Thank you.”

Instead of moving behind the coffee counter, the man held out a meaty hand to Truman. “I’m Bob. Welcome to Owl Island.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Truman begged himself to stop saying wow.

Bob chattered about Owl Island while he made the lattes.