Natalie used to love browsing that shelf. A book would never betray you or change its mind or make you feel stupid. She took down The Once and Future King and found a marked passage: “The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails.”

“There you have it,” Natalie said to the cat. “My plan for the day.”

The aftermath of unexpected death was a lengthy and complicated ordeal. She opened her laptop and clicked on the document she had started—a list of everything that had to be done. She hadn’t known what to call it, so she’d titled the document “Now What.”

Gazing at the cat, she added it to the list. Another detail to attend to. What would become of the shop without her mom? Could Natalie count on Grandy to take care of Sylvia? Fill her water bowl? Post her picture on Instagram for all the world to see? What if he forgot to feed her? She added a question mark to the intimidatingly growing list of things she had to deal with.

She gave the cat some kibble, and Sylvia took a few dainty bites, then slipped out through the cat door to the back garden.

A fresh eddy of sadness washed over Natalie, and she shuddered with emotional pain. When would the tears stop? When would the pain subside? It wasn’t like a headache or illness that could be cured by swallowing a pill. No, this ache of missing and regret felt like a constant, incurable condition.

In the back office behind the sales counter, she switched on her mother’s laptop. This, she knew, was going to add to her pain, but there was no avoiding it. She had to access her mother’s digital life. Natalie was supposed to be good at that—putting things in order.

The opening screen featured a picture of Sylvia preening herself in the shop window, and Good Morning, Blythe. The required passwords and PIN codes were on a handwritten list under her desk blotter. Mom claimed she was an identity thief’s dream, because she always used the same codes and never changed them. She used to say it was because she had nothing to hide and couldn’t remember codes and passwords anyway.

Culling through her mother’s private digital life felt strange and intrusive, and Natalie knew she was only at the beginning of the ordeal. When someone left without warning, there was work to be done.

Her mother probably had a will somewhere. Natalie had a look through the computer files, trying to figure out where to dig in first.

She opened a folder labeled THE LOST AND FOUND BOOKSHOP: A__________.

What had her mother meant to put in the blank space?