Maren wanted to spill everything like she’d just done with the tide-pool water. Maybe if she confessed, Lishta would only ban her from the shop for a few months. She could handle that. But if Maybe Ms. Malo showed the doctors her video, there was no telling how long she’d be banned from seeing Hallie. Possibly forever.

The door swung open, and Edna Frye barged in, wearing her post office uniform. “Lishta,” she boomed, thumping her sturdy elbows onto the counter. “I’ve got a problem, and I need your help.”

“Let me guess,” said Lishta, who had turned a little pale. “Nightmares?”

“All week.” Edna mopped her forehead with her polyester sleeve and dragged her fingers through her poodle-permed hair. “Same dream every single night. And this morning I found a note on my kitchen table saying if I wanted them to stop, I’d better leave town.”

Maren hissed in her breath. Carefully, she screwed the lid onto the tide-pool water.

“Do you have the note?” asked Lishta, and Edna took a folded sheet of paper from her back pocket.

Lishta’s fingers trembled as she pulled on her glasses. “It appears to have been typed on a very old machine.”

“You’ve got a few of those,” said Edna, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the typewriter showroom.

Lishta’s mouth opened, then closed. She cleared her throat. “Tell me about the nightmare.”

“I was out on a fishing boat—looked kind of like Captain Perry’s,” said Edna. “And then this giant whale showed up. Bigger than the whole post office, I swear. All covered in stripes, just like a tiger. Its mouth gaped open, all watery and sloshing and full of teeth.” She swallowed, looking a little nauseous. “I kept trying to steer the boat away from it, but I couldn’t. Then the steering wheel fell off in my hands and, well, you can guess the rest.” Edna rubbed her bleary eyes. “I’m not scared of whales in real life, but that monster was something else.”

Lishta sighed. “It’s one of our dreams.”

But it wasn’t one of the nightmares Maren had stolen. The store hadn’t carried that dream for months. Her racing heartbeat slowed from ninety miles an hour to eighty-seven.

“I’m terribly sorry this is happening to you,” said Lishta.

Edna grimaced. “I don’t want your sympathy. I want to know what’s going on here.”

Lishta pulled a hairpin from her braid and tapped her nose with it. “Have you made any enemies recently?”

Edna gave her a blank stare. “No.”

On wobbling legs, Maren climbed halfway up the ladder to put the jar of tide-pool water away.

“No arguments with anyone in your household?” said Lishta. “Or with someone who might have access to your bedroom when you’re asleep?”

The postmistress folded her arms across her broad chest. “I live alone, and everyone in this town likes me.”