“No problem.” With an ease that likely came from long practice, he posed with her for a quick selfie and did the same for her friend. “Just do me a favor and don’t tag the location for a few hours.”

“Of course,” she said. “I just want you to know I’ve loved your books ever since I discovered them at the age of ten, and I’m saving them for my own kids one day.”

“That’s really great. Thank you.” When they were out of earshot, he added, sotto voce, “For making me feel older than rock itself.”

Others nearby checked him out, but just then, the elevator arrived and they stepped inside the bullet-shaped glass car.

“I guess you get that a lot,” said one of the passengers, a guy holding hands with another guy.

“A fair bit,” said Trevor. “I don’t mind.” He gifted them with a grin and another selfie.

“Hey, thanks for being cool about it,” the guy said.

As the elevator rose, Natalie studied the view, a magical panorama of glittering lights and flickering reflections off the water. The penthouse bar had an even more commanding view, and craft cocktails named after local or formerly local writers and their books—the Anne Rice blood orange martini, the Tsukiyama Samurai, the Christopher Moore Demon, the Joy Luck Cocktail. The walls were lined with well-curated volumes from Ferlinghetti, the Bohemians, and a host of Bay Area bright lights.

“How’s your drink?” he asked as they settled together at a cozy window table.

“The Lemony Snicket? Amazing,” she said. “This whole night is amazing. I feel like Cinderella.”

“Excellent. My plan is working,” he said.

“That’s your plan? This is your plan? You had a plan?”

“Guilty as charged. True story—I wrote the flip side of Cinderella when I was in fifth grade,” he explained. “I illustrated the hell out of it, too. I named the stepsisters Grace Slick and Janis Joplin, and they kicked ass.”

Natalie laughed. “So you’ve been at this for a while.” She studied him across the table. He was so good-looking, she nearly drowned in him. “Why do you say guilty?”

“When I got Dorothy’s letter, I looked up your shop online and read about your mom.”

“Oh.” The constant ache inside her flared up. “Yes, the story made the rounds.”

“Unfortunately, human tragedy has a way of doing that,” he said. “I’m really sorry, Natalie, sorry as hell.”

She kind of wished he hadn’t pretended earlier not to know what had happened. Maybe he didn’t want to scare her off by admitting he’d looked her up. “Thanks. It’s been … I don’t even know how to describe it. Like having the whole world pulled out from under me.”

“That’s pretty descriptive. I’m sorry,” he said again, and he touched her arm. Briefly.

She liked his touch. It gave her a shiver.