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“Yeah.” I shook myself. “Sure. Sorry. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Yeah, I know.” I was suddenly way, way too hot in my leather jacket. “I’m probably going to have to kill someone, is all.”

Garrett glanced in the direction I was staring, but of course didn’t see what I was seeing. “Anyone in particular?”

I shook my head. “Not in the immediate vicinity.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He laughed.

I wasn’t feeling so amused, though. Rosie had promised—promised—me that Will Price wasn’t going to be at the festival. Sworn on her soul that she’d checked anddouble-checkedwith the festival staff.

I’d even scoured the website myself before writing to commit to the event. But there’d been nothing: no sign of Will Price anywhere on the Little Bridge Island Book Festival page. Zilch.

So what had happened?

Behind me, I heard Garrett murmur, “Um, well, I checked a bag, so, uh, I better go see if I can find it. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” I murmured back. “Sure. See you later.”

I knew I was being rude—the guy had carried my suitcase for me, after all, and been sweet about Lauren and her friendsand my ponytail swatting him—but I had bigger problems to worry about. What was I going to do about having to share a car with Will Price? Was I actually going to have totalkto him? What was I going to say?

Honestly, this was really just too much to ask. It was one thing to have to be at a festival with him. Butride in a car with him? No.

Should I just turn around? Maybe I could find the departures terminal and buy a ticket back to New York.

But then I’d lose my ten grand, and I really needed that money. Who knew when Dad was going to fall down again and I was going to get saddled with another gigantic hospital bill?

Oh, whiskers, as Kitty would say. I was just going to have to suck it up.

Once again deeply regretting many of my life decisions, especially the one to come to Little Bridge, I wheeled my suitcase toward the woman with the whiteboard. I had to dart and weave between dozens of tourists, all wearing winter coats like me, and all crowded into the tiny arrivals terminal, either trying to rent a car from the single car rental agency or grab their bags from the single loudly cranking baggage carousel.

“Hi.” I’d reached the woman holding up the whiteboard. I pointed to my name. “That’s me.”

“Oh, Ms. Wright!” The woman’s face broke into a rapturous smile. “Welcome to Little Bridge! I’m Molly Hartwell, the children’s librarian. Thank you so much for coming.”

The woman’s greeting was so charming that I almost forgot my hatred of Will Price (almost, but not quite).

“Hi. Please call me Jo. Thanks for having me. It’s really great to be here. I hope you weren’t waiting for me long.”

“Oh, no,” Molly replied. “Not at all.”

But I couldn’t help noticing that she was shifting her weight from foot to foot, and also that she was clearly pregnant. To my untrained eye (except for many hours of watchingCall the Midwife), she looked ready to pop.

“I’ll be taking you to your hotel.” Molly’s tone was as bright as her dark eyes. “Do you have any other bags to pick up from baggage claim?”

“No. Everything I need, I have right here.” I nodded proudly down at my carry-on. If they gave prizes to authors for packing instead of literary content, I would definitely have won them all.

“Oh.” Molly looked slightly disappointed, and continued to shift her weight from one foot to another. “I hope you don’t mind, but there are two other authors arriving any minute that I thought we could pick up at the same time. It would keep me from having to make three trips back and forth to the hotel. And you know, we are trying to be eco-conscious here on Little Bridge. The authors should be coming through those doors any second—”

Because of my expert packing, I’d been in this situation before. Enough times that I reached out, took the whiteboard from Molly’s hands, and said, in response to her surprised expression, “No problem. I’ll wait for them. I know you’ve been here awhile and could probably use a bathroom break.”

Molly’s cheeks went red. “Oh, no, Ms. Wright! I’m fine! I don’t want you to—”

“It’s Jo. And I’m fine with this. Will and I go way back. I’ll take good care of him while you’re gone.”

That’s what I said out loud. Inside in my head, I was saying,Will and I go way back, and if he shows up while you’re gone, I’m going to murder him, and when you return from the bathroom, all that will be left of him is a puddle of his own blood, but no one will be able to prove I’m his killer, because I will have so skillfully disposed of his body and gotten rid of all the evidence.