“Would you like some muffins to go with your lattes?” he asked, and Truman noticed for the first time that the back counter held a bakery tray. “Kenny’s boy makes them. But of course you won’t be knowing Kenny. Landon’s a good kid. Well, not a kid anymore, I guess. Nearly thirty. Excellent baker.”

“I’d love some muffins,” Truman said enthusiastically, concerned that he might soon know more about Kenny and Landon than he did about his own friends if he didn’t interrupt.

Bob handed him a bag and a cardboard coffee carrier. “On the house. Welcome.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“You can and you will.”

“Wow, thank you very much.”

“Come back anytime. And send Ashleigh my best!” he called as Truman opened the door.

***

Truman walked into Thorn ready to make a joke about the whole town saying hi to Ash but was saved from it by nearly running into a broad-shouldered man made even broader by a cartoonishly square gray wool overcoat.

“Excuse me, sorry,” Truman said, sidestepping the man.

He ignored Truman. “Think about it,” the man told Ash flatly. Then his voice softened and he added, before leaving, “My best to your mom.”

“What was that all about?” Truman asked, unloading the coffees and muffins on the counter. “Also, hi.”

“Hey,” Ash said. Today, he was wearing a brown-and-gray sweater in the same style as Greta’s.

“Lemme guess.” Truman pointed at the sweater. “Muskee’s?”

“We’ll make an Owl Islander of you yet,” Ash said, as if this were a fate worse than death. “Thanks for the coffee. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Bob sends his best.”

Ash smiled.

“I used to work at the Hardware Store.” Like everyone else so far, Ash managed to imply the capital letters in the name. “For three summers in high school.”

“At the risk of stereotyping, does everyone on the island know every single other person?”

“Nah. It just seems like it. But most of us with businesses on Main know one another. We try to help one another out, recommend that people check out all the other shops during tourist season. If I needed supplies for the shop, I’d get them from Bob. If he needed flowers, he’d get them from me. Being on an island makes it hard to order online. You can. It just takes longer. But we try to support one another.”

“That’s really lovely.”

Truman indulged in a dreamy fantasy of running his own business for a moment, then remembered the man he’d passed on the way in.

“So was that guy, like, the Owl Island Mafia or something?”

“As close as we come to it,” Ash muttered. “That’s Carlton Crimm. He’s the largest landowner on the island, even though he lives on the mainland. He, uh, he wants to buy the shop.”

“Oh, wow. Would you still work here?”