“You need Wi-Fi, too,” Dorothy said. “Free Wi-Fi.”

“Why do you need Wi-Fi with all these books?” asked Peach.

“I don’t. All the grown-ups do. Mom says Wi-Fi runs the world.”

Peach took a savage bite of his sweet roll.

“Adding guest Wi-Fi is on my list of projects,” said Natalie. “And it’s actually something I know how to do. I’m liking this free advice, Dorothy. What else do we need?”

“A book-signing party with Trevor Dashwood,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “He’s super famous and you’d sell a ton of books. He’s magic.”

“We could use a bit of magic around this place.” She glanced down at the water she’d tracked on the floor.

“Then that’s the plan. But we’re just getting started. There’s more to come.” Dorothy tapped the pencil on the list, her eyes bright with excitement. “Trevor Dashwood needs to have a book signing. People will come and they’ll all buy books and you’ll be back on track.”

A laugh of disbelief burst from Natalie. “Well, that would be a dream come true, but I’m sorry to say, I already looked into this, and his schedule is too full.”

“That’s what Mr. Harper said, too.”

Apparently Grandy had been paying attention.

“I did have a book signing last Saturday, but it didn’t turn out so well.” The Quill Ransom book was selling, though, slowly but surely. “I’ve been talking to publishers about other popular writers,” Natalie assured them both.

“Trevor Dashwood is the most popular,” Dorothy declared. “I bet he would come if he knew you needed help.” She leaned back in her chair and admired her list.

“Your child is very resourceful,” Grandy said to Peach. He beamed at Dorothy. “That’s a compliment, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Dorothy.

“I like this child, Blythe,” Grandy added.

“I’m Natalie,” said Natalie.

“I know that.” He nodded at Dorothy. “She’s not like some of those whippersnappers who come into the shop.”

“What’s a whippersnapper?” asked Dorothy.

“An impertinent youngster.”

“I know what a youngster is, but what’s impertinent?”

“The sort of child who makes fun of me because I’m old and have hair growing out of my ears and a forgetful brain. And I’m happy to say that although you are young, you’re not impertinent. Therefore you’re not a whippersnapper.”

She grew quiet, studying him. “How old are you?”

“Seventy-nine.”

“Did you have fun, getting that old?”