The entire town was buzzing, and I mean buzzing. News cameras had arrived on Main Street, with Miss Mae talking to whoever had a camera about the communists. Mom and Dad barely had time to sit, they were so busy fixing leaks and delivering extra pillowcases and handing out tourist information. Jade spent all her time either at the movie theater or running around with her friends. Harriet started a petition to keep the library open and sat out front every day, talking to anyone who walked by. I had been the first signature.

“Signatures don’t make money appear, Abby,” Dad had told me tiredly. “Don’t get your hopes up.” The meeting had not gone well. The decision was pushed until October, after there’d been enough time to see what boost the eclipse had given. But the library was not deemed a priority. We needed a new game warden, some potholes covered, a stoplight that didn’t questionably flicker during thunderstorms. Dusty books were something that could be crossed off the list. Dad had told me this the night before, putting a massive bowl of ice cream in front of me and breaking the bad news.

“You could have fought for it,” I said through tears.

“Oh, Abs,” he said with a sigh. “I tried. But I’m just one person.”

“You’re a very respected member of the community,” I said. “That’s what your little biography thing on the town website says.”

“I’m a very respected member of the community who understands the importance of traffic lights and a robust fiction section,” he said.

But there was Harriet, full of hope. Dreams weren’t dashed just yet. The October deadline seemed ages away.

Well, I’d learned my lesson in the hope department. It was the rest of my family who had theirs up. Every second Mom wasn’t walking someone wearing a Chicago Bears sweatshirt to their cabin, she was redecorating Blair’s room. She had painted it light blue and hung up a poster of Rey from Star Wars where Misty Copeland had been. Blair’s old tutus, ones that had cost hundreds of dollars and been painstakingly sewed and detailed, were in a box in the garage next to the Christmas decorations. It was like Mom thought if she took a sponge to ballet and scrubbed it out of our lives, Blair would magically go back to normal.

Final plans for the telescope had been made. During the eclipse—the moment I’d been waiting ages for, that I probably wouldn’t see again for years—I would be at the library, supposedly digging up the time capsule and retrieving the telescope. Dr. Lacamoire would be giving an interview for CNN, a perfect alibi.

“God, it’s hot here,” said Simone, tying her long hair into a ponytail. “Isn’t Wisconsin supposed to be cold?” We were standing on the back porch of Eagle’s Nest.

“Um. It’s August,” I pointed out as gently as possible. “We’re in the Northwoods, not Antarctica.”

She sighed. “I’m supposed to get some iced coffee with your mom in a few minutes. I’m forcing her to take a break. Between getting things ready for your sister and making sure all of your cabins are good to go, she’s about to pass out. I’ve never met a woman who works so hard.”