Natalie felt the first nudge of humor in days. “No wonder you got a gift card. That was nice of your mom.”

“Yep.” The girl showed it to her. The card had a message on the back. Good job, Dorothy! Love, Mommy.

“Dorothy’s a cute name. One of the all-time best characters ever is Dorothy Gale. From the Wizard of Oz books.”

“My dad says that’s why he named me Dorothy. He read the first book to me, even the scary bits.”

“That’s impressive. Are you looking for a book in particular?”

“Yes,” she declared, making her way to the children’s section. “I know how to find it, too—in the Ds in fiction.”

The children’s section was a nook in the back corner of the shop, defined by a braided oval rug, colorful pillows, and beanbag chairs, surrounded by shelves and display racks. The old Kennedy rocker was set up for story time next to an easel with the times listed.

The girl plopped down on a throw pillow and made a serious study of the middle-grade readers. She looked young for middle grade, but something about her bright-eyed expression suggested she was an early reader, like Natalie had been. The girl ran her finger along an upper shelf, which contained multiple copies of titles by one particular author.

“Trevor Dashwood,” Natalie said, joining the girl in the corner. The man had become a household name in the past few years—that much she knew. Her mother had said he’d burst onto the publishing scene with a series of children’s books that sold in the millions.

Dorothy gazed up at her with bright eyes. “He’s my favorite in all the world.”

“I hear he’s very popular, but I’ve never read his books.”

Dorothy gasped. “He’s the best! I’ve read all his books at least three times.” Her blue eyes brightened as she selected a book from the shelf. “This one!” She held it up in triumph. “I checked this out from the library and kept it until it was overdue, and now I want my own copy.”

Watching the eager child, Natalie had a strange sense of déjà vu. She herself had spent hours in that spot, browsing through books and sometimes agonizing about what to pick. Like an ephemeral breeze, she felt the presence of her mother, who never influenced her choices. Sometimes you have to let the right book find you, Mom used to say.

“What do you love about these books?” Natalie asked.

“Everything! See, they’re called the Flip Side Stories because watch.” Dorothy demonstrated. The front of the book became the back and vice versa. “There are actually two stories in every book. It’s the same story, only told from two different characters. You read one, and then you flip it over and it tells the other side of the story.”