Peach looked into the hole where the sump pump was positioned. Then he peeled off his sweatshirt and hunkered down, plunging his arm deep into the pit. “You’re right. That’s damn cold.”

She held the light steady while he brought up the submerged pump and unplugged it. Taking the flashlight from her, he inspected the pump, which was covered in slime. He used a screwdriver to pry something out of the bottom. “Hello.”

“What is it?”

“I think I found the problem.” He held out a small metal object—an old key of some sort. “This was caught in the intake. Let’s see if that fixed it. I’ll plug it back in and you flip the breaker back on.”

“Only if you promise not to get electrocuted.”

“Yeah, not on the agenda today.”

While he replaced the pump, she pocketed the key, went to the breaker box, and flipped the switch. A quiet mechanical hum ensued. “That’s a good sign,” called Peach.

She rejoined him in the basement. “Is it fixed?”

“Let’s check it out.” He shone the light, and they saw that the pump was sucking in swirls of water.

Natalie exhaled a breath of relief. “Wow. That’s … I’m glad I didn’t have to buy another pump. Thank you for fixing it.”

He looked around. “The water’ll subside pretty quickly. Good thing you heard the alarm.”

“Miss Natalie?” Dorothy called from the top of the stairs. “Can you come?”

Natalie glanced at Peach, who shrugged. They both went upstairs, leaving flip-flops and boots in the hallway. Natalie was haunted by visions of her grandfather wandering off again. “Everything all right?” she asked.

The two of them were still sitting together in the café area. Sylvia had made an appearance, crouching on the windowsill nearby. Dorothy had a piece of lined paper and appeared to be making a list.

“Yes, indeed,” said Grandy.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Peach asked his daughter.

“We have a plan to save the bookstore,” Dorothy replied, utterly serious.

Natalie felt a twist of anxiety in her gut. She’d been trying to protect her grandfather from fretting about finances. Forcing a smile, she asked, “Save the store from what? Sea monsters? Pirates?”

Dorothy’s expression clearly said I’m not having this. “Mr. Harper and I are making a list. Number one, get more of these yummy cinnamon rolls to sell to your customers.”

Peach washed up at the sink and helped himself to one. “Excellent plan. Dang, that’s good.”

“That’s very smart,” Natalie said. “I did the math, and the café makes up about a quarter of our revenues. You must be good at math, too.”

“Nuh-uh. I just like sweet rolls.”

“Then I’m going to see about having the bakery across the way help us turn the coffee area into a proper café.” Yet another project she didn’t have time for, but visitors to the shop would love it.