“All of them,” she said. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be on my table. If you like cool, funny entertainment, you might like this one. It’s a first novel by a local author.” She handed him a copy of Practical Demonkeeping. “A very different kind of buddy novel. I thought it was hilarious.”

“You’re reading me like a book.” The guy shook his head as if embarrassed by his own lame joke. Then he looked over at Blythe. Natalie saw his gaze move swiftly over her mother’s red V-neck sweater and short skirt. “How can you tell that’s exactly what would make me happy?” he asked.

Oh boy. He was flirting. Guys did that a lot with her mom. She was super pretty, and Natalie knew it wasn’t only because Mom was her mom and all kids thought their moms were pretty. Even her snottiest friends like Kayla said Blythe looked like a model. Like Julia Roberts. Plus, her mom had a knack for dressing cool and being social—she could talk to anyone and make them like her.

Also, she had a superpower, which was on full display right now. She had the ability to see a person for the first time and almost instantly know what book to recommend. She was really smart and had also read every book ever written, or so it seemed to Natalie. She could talk to high school kids about Ivanhoe and Silas Marner. She ran a mystery discussion group. She could tell people the exact day the new Mary Higgins Clark novel would come out. She knew which kids would only ever read Goosebumps books, no matter what, and she knew which kids would try something else, like Edward Eager or Philip Pullman.

Sometimes people didn’t know anything about the book they were searching for except “It’s blue with gold page edges” and her mom would somehow figure it out.

What Mom wasn’t so good at was understanding that sometimes Natalie wished they lived in a real house like a regular family.

The shop bell jangled Natalie to the present. With her mother gone, the past felt different in ways she hadn’t expected.

“Morning, guys,” she said, getting up to give Cleo and Bertie brief hugs. She felt them both scrutinizing her and waved off their concern.

“Is your grandfather up?” asked Cleo, taking their coats to the back office.

“Not yet,” Natalie said.

“How’s he doing?”

Natalie flashed on the moment she’d told him good night. The sadness in his eyes. “He was really worn out last night. I’ll go check on him in a bit.”

Bertie gave her a long look. “You’re a wreck.”