Page 52 of Just One More Thing

“So is the tide,” Willard replies. “Comes back anyway.”

The Point hums around us. Dogs tangling leashes. Kids wobbling on scooters. The same grim grinning jogger who always looks mid-regret. A woman outside Town Hall pretends to adjust a planter while absolutely eavesdropping.

“That felt pointed.”

“Just an observation.”

Chip attempts to drag a hot dog twice his size across the shell path. He makes it six inches before surrendering and eating it where he sits.

“I don’t want to complicate things.”

Willard studies the horizon. “Life’s already complicated. You just decide what parts you’re brave enough to keep.”

I stare harder at the box, waiting for glazed doughnuts to offer guidance.

Nothing.

“There was an alarm,” I say weakly.

French Fry makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

“Town hasn’t had that much excitement since the raccoon got into the fireworks,” Willard says. “But what happened before the alarm?”

“Nothing.”

“Mmm.”

That mmm feels like a lie detector. I stand, lifting the box like a shield. “I should take these to Walt.”

Willard tips his hat. “Take your time.”

As I cross toward Tall Tales, the library door swings open, and Lainey Stillmore bursts out balancing three hardcovers against her chest and an iced tea the size of her head.

She spots me right away. “Oh my God. Emory Donovan!”

I laugh before she even reaches me. “Hi, Lainey.”

She shifts all three books into one arm and throws the other around me in a one-armed hug. “You’re actually here,” she says, pulling back to look at me.

Lainey and I were summer friends growing up.

She’s also the reason I spent one entire summer emotionally devastated the Harry Potter series was over.

“I’ve been meaning to come by Holey Moley,” she says. “But every time I walk in there, your grandmother wants to talk about what’s new in the quote whoopie books.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“Speaking of books, I see you’re still reading,” I say, nodding toward the stack in her arms.

She gasps softly. “Emory. I’m the town librarian now.”

I blink. “No you are not.”

“I am.” She lifts her tea proudly. “This is what success looks like.”

I laugh. “That is perfect for you.”