Issuu

LILA HAZELL

For JI, with thanks and pumpkin-spiced love

Pixel+Ink is an imprint of Holiday House Publishing, Inc. First US edition, 2026

First published by Walker Books Ltd. (UK) 2026

Published by arrangement with Walker Books Limited, London SE11 5HJ.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher. Additionally, no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artiocial intelligence technologies or systems, nor for text and data mining.

HOLIDAY HOUSE is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Oïce.

Printed and bound in June 2026 at Sheridan, Chelsea, MI, USA.

Book design by Jay Colvin and Kerry Martin www.pixelandinkbooks.com

First Edition

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

ISBN: 978-1-64595-344-9 (paperback)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

EU Authorized Representative: HackettFlynn Ltd, 36 Cloch Choirneal, Balrothery, Co. Dublin, K32 C942, Ireland. EU@walkerpublishinggroup.com

OCTOBER in Oak Falls meant the sky got dark around five thirty.

It meant that Harvest Festival was just around the corner and that there was a chill in the air. The kind of chill that smelled like damp earth and yesterday9s woodsmoke. A scent that crept through the doorframes and window cracks of our old cottage. I9d always loved this time of year, tucked up on the couch with Mom9s quilts, trying not to fall asleep in front of the crackling fire. Peace.

But not for long. Because Lennie didn9t even knock. I9d been watching a TikTok of some influencer livestreaming in Tokyo when someone barged through the door wearing a Pennywise mask and scaring the crap out of me. I mean, I should have been used to it. When it came to Lennie, Pop and I had an opendoor policy (which she one hundred percent abused).

LILA HAZELL

She didn9t even take the mask off, just stood there in silence, staring.

<Lennie, you9re freaking me out here. Take it off,= I told her.

She pulled it off and dumped it on the kitchen table along with her coat, revealing bright blue, nonterrifying pajamas, which totally complemented my outfit of fluffy socks, shorts, and Mom9s old Knicks Tshirt. Much better than a childkilling clown, anyway.

<Free house again?= Lennie grinned and her dark eyes lit up.

<Pop9s at your second home, fixing a leak,= I said.

Lennie opened a bag of the weird blue candy that made up half her diet. <School?=

<Okay sorry, your third home. The library.=

<Weird. Jo never mentioned a leak when I was there earlier. Oh, but she did tell me about this new series she9s ordering in. Serious spice, apparently.= She wriggled her eyebrows and I laughed.

<You9re such a pervert.=

<I know. And one of these days I9m going to make you a pervert too. I9m making you read it after me.=

<Forcereading. That sounds fun . . .=

<The funnest.=

Lennie looked over the back of the sofa and around the openplan kitchen/living room. <Willa, come on. It9s time for a party here. Your pop is out fixing stuff way too much not to take advantage.=

Lennie9s mouth was so full of candy, I had to seriously concentrate to make out what she was saying. She was a tiny little human, with almostblack hair that sat long, shiny, and straight over her shoulders. She always reminded me of something you9d find in a fairytale forest. Small, delicate features, bony elbows, and the perfect scowl. <If I was ever going to give in and have a party here, it would have happened already,= I said. I stretched out and took a normal amount of candy from the bag, scrunching up my face at the sourness. <And are we even partyhaving kind of people?=

<Well, yeah, you9re right. You9re not. I can just imagine you leaving your own party because someone mentioned that their grandma lived alone, and you thought they might be lonely.=

Lennie knew I9d never have a party here. If I asked Pop, he9d be cool with it, but at Krista9s parties something always got broken, and Pop didn9t have his own car dealership like Mr. Goldberg, so we couldn9t just fix everything all the time. My eyes fell on the damp patch on the ceiling that Pop was constantly complaining about.

<I kind of have news . . .= Lennie hugged her knees and looked at me.

My stomach dropped4was it something bad? Then I saw the twinkle in my best friend9s eyes. <Tell me!= She was grinning stupidly now. <So, I saw her at the bookstore again.=

LILA HAZELL

<Sara?= I asked.

<Yup.=

<And?= I nudged her.

<She said hi.=

I squealed. Lennie had been lowkey obsessed with this girl Sara for ages. She found out that Sara went to Main Street Books every Friday. So now, I guess, so did Lennie.

<Oh my God, she9s actually made for you, Len. Please tell me you said hi back, at least?=

<Does a wave count?=

<Who even are you?= I pushed her. <This is not the Lennie I know.=

I think I9d always been drawn to Lennie because she knew herself. Or seemed like she did, anyway. In second grade she brought in a book about vampires for show-and-tell when the rest of us brought in stufed animals. And in fourth grade she wore mismatched socks for the whole year, because even then she hated the thought of being the same as everyone else. Conodent4that was the word I9d use to describe my best friend. So this selfdoubting, reserved Lennie was totally new to me. But that9s what I was there for. She9d always been my brave when I needed it. Now I could be hers. Or at least be her cheerleader.

She picked up an acornshaped knitted cushion (I never knowingly under decorated for the season) and squished it onto her face. I waited until her muffled scream had stopped.

<You have to talk to her.=

<I know.= Lennie chucked the cushion at me, and I got up to put pizza in the microwave, leaning on the counter as I waited for it to ding.

<So that9s why I9m saying we should have a party. And then we could invite her, and the rest would be history.= Lennie put her hands together like she was praying.

No need. <Krista will have her Halloween party as usual. You can wear your Pennywise mask and show Sara what a creep you are.=

<Do you really think the mask is sexy?=

<Did I say it was sexy? I mean it could be, I guess, if you . . .= My face twisted in disgust. <No. What am I even talking about. Scratch that. Don9t wear the mask.=

<I9ll make it work,= Lennie promised.

I brought the pizza over to the couch on the slab of wood Pop had made into a chopping board, and set it between us. I pressed Play on the TV as we each pulled one of Mom9s old quilts around us. Tonight9s movie4Amélie.

Every Friday for the past I don9t even know how long, Lennie and I9d had movie night. Alternating houses. I chose the movie at mine, and she chose the movie at hers. So Lennie had to bore her way through subtitled movies when she came to my house, and I had to hide behind my hands and watch horror movies at hers. It kind of worked, in the sort of way that it didn9t work at all.

LILA HAZELL

<If you9re set on Paris tonight, can9t we watch Emily in it instead?= she said.

<Fine.= I gave in and switched over. I did love the clothes. And it was still Paris. I9d been obsessed with other countries for as long as I could remember, and even though I9d never been outside the States and had no real plans to change that fact, no one could stop me from daydreaming.

<Are we still going to the game this week?= I made a face. Lennie did too. But since it was senior year, we9d decided we should make an effort with all the Oak High stuff. Too bad we managed to find excuses every time there was a home game. Lennie felt much happier in the library and study hall than in the bleachers, and even though I did track, I didn9t actually care about team sports.

<I mean we should, I guess. School spirit?= Lennie looked like she was in pain. And then: <Ooh, maybe Sara will be there? I saw her wearing an Oak High Hawks Tshirt the other week . . .= The corners of her mouth turned up in the cutest smile.

I raised an eyebrow. <The other week?=

<Okay one, you got me. September ninth, by the vending machine. At two twentyone p.m. Ah!= Lennie covered her face with the acorn cushion for the second Sararelated time that night. She had it bad.

<Stalker mode?= I reached over and squeezed Lennie9s arm so she knew I was joking. <Okay, let9s go to the game next week and then we can do movie

night after? And hey, maybe she9ll be there and you can actually say a real, human word to her.=

I9d never had this kind of crush on anyone. I mean, it wasn9t like I didn9t notice if a hot guy passed through Oak Falls, my eyes worked just fine. But it was just that they were usually <passing through,= and nobody at Oak High had ever made me feel the way I thought Love4moviestyle love4would feel. Carter Blake, who graduated a couple of years ago, did make my stomach loop, but everyone had a crush on Carter, so it didn9t count. And it wasn9t like I hadn9t had boyfriends. They just weren9t the onetrueloveonetrackmindcan9teatcan9tsleep kind of thing that seemed to have swallowed my best friend whole.

Maybe that kind of love only happened in movies. Maybe it would never happen to me. But the way Lennie talked about Sara had made me realize that I wanted to feel that way about someone too. Like really feel it. Someday.

But right now? This was about Lennie. " " "

When she lev around midnight, Pop still wasn9t back from oxing the leak in the library. The ore was dying, and I lay there for a while on the sagging old sofa, just staring at the glowing embers and feeling my eyes getting heavy. Half asleep, I onally dragged myself to my bedroom. One corner of my room was lit with the nower-shaped string lights that Pop had helped

LILA HAZELL

me put up, and my eyes fell on the framed photo of me and Mom. I was on her shoulders. Two years old, my hands in her wavy red hair, a baseball cap on my head. We were both smiling so hard. It was kind of a ritual for me now4just before I went to sleep, I9d look at the photograph, then reach for Mom9s old notebook.

The leather corners were hard. Worn. Old. I put the notebook under my nose and breathed it in. Long, deep breaths. Not that it smelled like anything after all these years, but sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I liked to pretend it smelled like her. And some nights I would flick to one of the permanently bookmarked pages.

Willa said her orst word today.

<Home=

Maybe it was <ome,= I guess h is kind of tricky, but I still think she9s a genius. Mike thinks she was trying to say <Mom= but I don9t think so. She points at the house, at the coffee shop, at the bookstore on Main Street when she says it.

This kid already knows what matters . . .

I always got the same feeling when I read Mom9s words. It was like I was in on some secret, just for us.

" " "

Pop was up earlier than me the next morning. He greeted me with his usual smile, the one that

creased his eyes and filled me with warmth. <Morning, sweetheart. Coffee?=

<Sure, thanks. Did you get it fixed? The roof?=

Pop didn9t answer for a second. <Oh . . . Yeah, I did. That leak. It was a tricky one.= He handed me my favorite mug and said, <I9ll head back there at some point to check on it, then off to Mrs. Burrows . . .=

<Again?=

<The cat . . .= Pop sighed.

<She needs to get some kind of tracking device on that animal.=

<I know, I know, Willa, but what can I do? I9m Oak Falls9s most handsome fixit guy. It9s hard to keep up with the demand.=

I sucked air through my teeth. <I don9t know, I bet Mr. H was a total catch in his day.=

Mr. Holland was the OG fixit guy in Oak Falls, but he was about ninety now, refused to retire, and took months to get anything done. Pop did most of his work these days.

<I9ll tell him you said that.= Pop laughed and I remembered something. <At least there9s one good thing about Mrs. Burrows. Banana cream pie?=

Mrs. Burrows always paid Pop in pie instead of actual money. So old and so sweet and so completely Oak Falls.

<I do love that pie,= he said. <I9ll do what I have to do.=

LILA HAZELL

I saluted him, then noticed him staring at me, with that expression.

<What? Is there something on my face? I told Lennie to stop bringing that weird blue candy.=

Pop laughed. <No, no. You just looked so much like her for a second.=

I loved it when he said I looked like Mom. Same hair, same wide smile and freckles on our noses. Even though it was Pop who had the Irish blood, it was me and Mom who9d fit right in on the Emerald Isle.

I picked out a black hoodie that made my hair look even more fiery than it was, and threw on my brown plaid jacket and green scarf before walking out the door into the golden morning light.

It was a fourblock walk to work. Five minutes. Ten minutes if I took it slowly, which I did today. It felt like Oak Falls had been named after just how beautiful it looked in this one season. The streets were lined with oak trees turning bronze and rust, sugar maples blazing scarlet and gold, and deep burgundy dogwood trees. The air had that crisp, clean smell, like the start of something new. And it was all more beautiful at sunrise, when the light broke over the horizon and set everything on fire. The leaves on the sidewalk glowed like stained glass in yellow, orange, and amber. Like the whole of Oak Falls was painted in watercolors. I loved my walk to work.

I waved at Mrs. Lovell, walking her giant Saint Bernard. I used to be scared of Troy until I stopped

to chat one day and found out what a softy he was. Even softer and slower now that he was older.

Mr. Barkley was sweeping the street outside the hardware store.

<Hi there, Willa, tell your pop the Hawks are looking sharp for Friday night.=

<I will, Mr. B. Go Hawks,= I said, smiling. Pop had all the sportsloving genes in our house. I needed to practice being enthusiastic if Lennie and I were actually going to a game.

I kicked my sneaker through a pile of leaves under a lamppost with Mrs. Burrows9s missing cat poster on it. Then I pulled my jacket around me and kept on walking, inhaling the earthy smell of the leaves.

One more moment of calm before the storm of the Little Acorn coffee shop.

The bell dinged as I walked in, and there was Geoff, the owner, a gentle man with the sparkliest eyes I9d ever seen. He was in the middle of his morning routine, a routine I could picture with my eyes closed. Flipping chairs off the tables, checking the register, turning on the coffee machine and nodding with approval when it hissed to life. Everything in the same order, every day. In fact, apart from the decorations that I insisted we put up in every season, I don9t think the coffee shop ever changed. Not since Pop took me and Lennie to get muffins after school when we were little.

My decorations were a work of art, even if I said so

myself. String lights crisscrossed the ceiling, and each table had a bit of holiday cheer. There were Mason jars with tea lights, driedout oak leaves, and jars of acorns. Plus the cutest little ceramic minipumpkins by the counter, and a chalkboard sign saying happy fall y 9 all, which I9d spent ages handlettering.

<Good morning, Willa. Ready for a new weekend? These tourists, they just keep coming. I think there are even more than there were in the summer. I wonder if they9re staying for the festival, but . . . would it be terrible if I said I hope not?= Geoff lowered his voice. He acted like he was overwhelmed, but that couldn9t possibly be the truth. I9d seen him clean up the shop after a summer flood without so much as breaking a sweat. Sometimes I thought he pretended to be struggling for my benefit, just so I could feel more helpful.

I laughed. <Think of it this way, Geoff4it9s great for business.= But he was right, there9d been way more people in town since Oak Falls had been included in a glam travel blogger9s <New England Towns Not to Miss This Fall= piece. And within an hour, the coffee shop was hopping.

<Excuse me, miss, I9ll take another coffee.=

<Do you have any more of that pumpkin pie?=

<Do you deliver?=

I switched on my customer smile and got to work. Sometime in the middle of the morning, the bell above the door rang again and I looked up, smile

already in place. There, right in front of me, was Carter Blake.

Carter had graduated like two years ago and gone off to college. I want to say Penn State? He had been Oak High royalty, and now he was apparently gracing us with his presence for fall break. All of us were totally in love with him4me, Krista, Avery. Even Lennie admitted that if she was into guys, she would have been drooling along with us. Carter looked exactly the same as he always had. Except . . . better? If that was even possible. Tall, with dark, tousled hair, gray sweatpants, a gray sweater, and the kind of smile that made most girls, and some guys, lose the ability to speak.

He walked up to the counter, and I wished Geoff wouldn9t take so long stacking boxes in the back.

<How can I help you?= I said, proud of myself for using my words.

<Willa? Willa Taylor? Oak High?= Carter said. And did I forget to say that I was most girls? Because now my words were stuck.

<Mmhmm. Oak High. Coffee?= What the hell?

<Espresso, please. Serious deadline for my midterms next week.= Carter mimed wiping his brow and I forced myself not to sing the lyrics to the Sabrina Carpenter song that had been playing in my head since he said the word espresso.

<Coming up.= I avoided all eye contact, made the coffee, and handed it to him on a little plate.

<You still run track?= he asked, and I almost dropped the plate before he grabbed it.

<Track? Running? Sure I do, do you? I mean do you still play football?= I just about managed.

<I gave it up, actually. I wanted to concentrate on school, it9s a whole different ball game now.= He laughed at his own joke. <Cute hair, by the way. Like that girl from Stranger Things.=

CarterBlakejustcomplimentedmyhair. He remembersthat I run.

<Thanks, you too.=

He laughed then, but not in a mean way. In a whyishislaughevensexierthanhissmile way?

You too?

You too?!

I wished the floor would swallow me whole, but there was no time for my humiliation. The Little Acorn was getting really packed, with locals, with tourists, with hot college boys from Christmas past . . .

The bell dinged again. Yet another customer. Geoff was going to have to figure out how we could make more space in here.

This time it was Mrs. Porter, who9d lost her lovely husband two years ago. They9d always been together, and it broke my heart to see her alone. Every weekend now, she sat on the barstool at the window and stared out at the passersby. I9d bring her coffee after coffee, and everyone would turn a blind eye to the hip flask that she9d take out of her pocket

occasionally. The only time in two years when I9d almost seen her smile was on one of the occasional late Thursday nights when Buster Logan sat at the piano, playing Billy Joel songs. Then I remembered Mr. Porter9s funeral and how Buster had played then too, and my heart broke all over again.

I took a deep breath, brought her a coffee, turned my blind eye, and breathed in the safe, familiar cinnamonscented air of the Little Acorn.

My feet ached by the time I got around to taking a break. I made myself a pumpkin spice latte and sat down at the little wooden table outside, as usual, taking out my phone automatically. I was ready for Lennie9s latest messages, but before I could click on them, an email notification caught my attention.

I clicked it. Then almost spat out my coffee.

Subject: Estate of Ms. Lisa May Vaughn4 Important information regarding distribution of assets.

RAY & BLACK ASSOCIATES Attorneys at Law 529 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10022

Dear Ms. Willa Taylor,

I hope this email finds you well during what must be a difficult time. My name is Fred Ray, and I am the attorney handling the estate of your late aunt, Ms. Lisa May Vaughn.

I am writing to inform you that you have been named as a beneficiary in your aunt9s Last Will

and Testament. You are to be the beneficiary of the sum of $25,000, along with a personal letter from your aunt, which I will forward to the address we have for you on file.

I will flag here that there is a specific condition attached to this bequest. In your aunt9s own words,<This money is to be used for 8seeing the world beyond Oak Falls.9=

I understand that this is unusual, but your aunt was quite insistent. She believed strongly in the transformative power of travel and wanted to give you this gift, as she makes quite clear in her letter.

Please contact my oïce at your earliest convenience to arrange a time to discuss the details and complete the necessary paperwork. My condolences for your loss.

Sincerely,

Fred Ray, Esq. Ray & Black Associates

I stared at the email. Was this a joke? I mean, Aunt Lisa and I hadn9t been close. Pop and I had gone to the funeral, not known anyone there, and slipped away quietly.

I closed the email and shook my head, swiping to Lennie9s messages instead. Of course it had to be a scam . . .

I let the email stay in my head for a few moments, the same way it did when Pop and I would talk about our <winnings= after we9d just played the lottery. Imagine! Twentyfive thousand dollars to leave Oak Falls? I mean, traveling the world was the kind of thing dreams were made of. The kind of dreams I9d secretly always had.

But living somewhere like Oak Falls . . . wasn9t that a different kind of dream?

This was it. The moment everything changed. Or the moment everything stayed the same. Accept the money . . . or don9t. Two different futures. Two different lives. Two different versions of me.

Which one did I want to be?

I9D ARRANGED TO MEET LENNIE in the town square for pizza after my haircut. Yeah, I9d decided to go for it. I mean, after alotof discussion with Lennie, Krista, and Avery, because I had the kind of friends who liked to be seriously involved in big decisions. I couldn9t wait to show them now! I9d asked Mindy to go even shorter than the picture I9d shown her, so now my hair sat just under my chin instead of halfway down my back. I hadn9t had hair this short since second grade, and I lovedit.

I put up my hood so I could do a big reveal when I saw Lennie, and I wove down Main Street, trying to avoid large groups of people. It was weird, having so many visitors in Oak Falls these days. Sure, it was great for the local businesses, but I was so used to walking down the street and knowing everyone that now it almost felt like I was the tourist here.

Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be the one passing through. To see new places, to meet new people, to be somewhere nobody knew my name. Don9t get me wrong, I loved Oak Falls, but sometimes I daydreamed about living

somewhere with more than two restaurants and more than one cofee shop to choose from. Somewhere I could see a movie the week it came out, not three months later . . .

<Hey, Willa!= There she was, surrounded by a small crowd on the edge of the square. Lennie was waving me over, and I recognized that her grin was far too big to be real. My reveal would have to wait.

The woman next to her spoke urgently. <Hello, do you live here too? Your friend . . . she tell us that Oak Falls is four hours away, right back down the highway?= She had a European accent. German? How awesome that they9d come all the way from Europe. I was about to jump in and ask some questions about where they were from when Lennie spoke again.

<Could be even farther than that,= Lennie said, shaking her head sympathetically. <I9m so sorry you9ve come all this way, ma9am.=

The poor woman looked so upset. I was about to have mercy on her when a man in the group stepped toward us.

<Maybe we could stay here? It looks like a nice town, what is it called?= he asked, clearly hoping for some advice.

Lennie pushed in front of me with a oerce stare. <Lenniville . . .= she said, deadpan. <But you wouldn9t want to stay here. Do you see that building over there?= Lennie pointed at the doctor9s oïce. She cupped her hand over her mouth. <That9s the murder house . . .=

The group gasped.

<Murder . . . house?=

Lennie nodded. <The Peterson murders41994,= she said solemnly. <They never found the . . .=

I elbowed her and she coughed.

Then she pushed me forward. <This is Mary. Mary Peterson, if you have any questions. But she doesn9t talk much, not since she found out what really happened . . . the hood . . . you can see . . . she doesn9t like to be recognized.= Nobody knew how to react.

<But like I said, you can take the road back out of here and just keep on going, all the way until the highway ends, and then you9ll ond Oak Falls. Gorgeous. So quaint. If only we9d been lucky enough to live there, right, Mary?= Lennie looked at me and winked.

I waited till they9d walked away before punching Lennie on the arm.

<Ouch!= she squealed, then burst out laughing. <Len, what the hell was that?= I demanded. I genuinely felt horrible for the group of people and the vacation they had planned. Leaf-peepers waited all year for weeks like this! <A murder house? Really?= I asked. But it was hard to stay mad at Lennie. She had one of those faces that looked like she was always happy at all times.

<Oh, come on, you were perfect! All mysterious and traumatized.= Lennie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward Pepe9s, where we managed to get the last free table. I didn9t care that it was the one right next to the bathroom4I was tired and starving.

<As perfect as your cosplay was, you can stop being Mary Peterson now,= Lennie said. She reached over and pulled down my hood.

I grinned as her shocked expression morphed into the biggest smile.

<Oh my God, Willa, it9s gorgeous. Like it9s really short. Did I know you were going to cut it this short? Did you send a pic to the group yet?= Lennie snapped a photo and I heard my phone buzz as our group chat got a message.

<You really like it?= I asked, basking in her positivity.

<Like? I loveit. Très chic. Isn9t that what they say in France? Or in those French movies you watch?=

<Yes. Yes it is,= I said. I was glowing with pride.

The pizza arrived, we devoured it in two seconds, and Lennie said, <I forgot to get my book at the library. Mind if we swing by there next?=

I shrugged. <Sure.= I mean, I9d only be going home anyway. The library was one of those buildings that looked way too grand for the town. Big stone pillars and a statue of some man author who9d lived here a million years ago. Being friends with Lennie meant I9d spent a lot of time here.

When we walked inside, I caught Jo9s eye. She9d been the librarian for as long as I could remember, and there was something warm and welcoming about her. Jo always kept books for Lennie under her desk, along with candy for both of us.

Jo was wearing one of her famous printed dresses, fuchsia with nowers. She was about Pop9s age, and unlike most of the people in Oak Falls their age, who dressed in jeans and nannel shirts, Jo had always stood out in her bright colors and patterns, refusing to let Oak Falls winters dim her shine. When we were little, Lennie and I used to try to guess what color she9d be wearing before we even walked into the library. Once Lennie made her mom get her this dress that looked just

like one of Jo9s, a bright green one, and then she cried when she decided it didn9t look as good on her.

<Oh, did Pop manage to ox your leak? He said it was a tricky one,= I whispered. For a moment Jo looked at me as if she didn9t have a clue what I was talking about4and then she burst into life.

<Oh, he did, thank you, Willa. He9s a talented man, your pop.= She played with the scarf in her hair. Then she smiled, reached under the counter, and pulled out Lennie9s book.

<Football for Dummies?= I laughed, then stined it, trying to keep my voice down. Lennie was really going all in on the sports-slash-Sara-impressing.

Jo turned to me. <Oh, don9t worry about the noise, at this hour there9s next to nobody here, except for Martin Gray. You could holler right in his ear and he wouldn9t hear you, God bless him. So . . . what about you, honey? Any books you have your eye on?=

I scanned the library, as if a book was just going to jump right out at me. <I don9t think so.=

<You could check out the romance section.= Lennie pointed to the corner she sat in every time she came here.

<So that9s why you sit there,= I joked. <Now it all makes sense.=

Jo handed me two caramels. <Something sweet for two sweethearts.= It was the same thing she had been saying to me and Lennie since we were eight.

<Thanks, Jo, catch you later,= I said. I put the caramels in my pocket and waved goodbye before catching up with Lennie in the new books section.

<So, how about you learn about football and give me a summary next Friday before the game?= I asked hopefully. <You owe me, after those Germans.=

Lennie shrugged. <Deal. And . . . nope. I really don9t. I9m going to stick around here to ogure it out once and for all.=

I gave her a knowing stare. <You9re nothing if not dedicated in your pursuit of love. Fine . . . Catch you later, loser.=

The wind had picked up by the time I left the library and Lennie behind. It was strong enough to whip piles of leaves from the grass and send them nying around in front of me, threatening to ruin my new hair. I buried my face in my green scarf and reached into my back pocket for one of Jo9s caramels. As I struggled with the wrapper, I heard a voice.

<Do you mind?=

I looked up to see some guy, early twenties maybe, all in black and wearing glasses, crouched down in front of the library with a sketchbook balanced on his knee. When he wasn9t glaring at me, he was muttering to himself, clearly frustrated.

A gust of wind blew onto his page.

<Dammit!= he said.

I should have kept walking. But I didn9t. I went into small talk mode, like I was still at work or something.

<Yeah, the wind9s pretty bad today,= I said. <Not sure where it came from, it wasn9t like this earlier.= I even smiled. He didn9t even look at me, just made another few marks on his page. <Uneven heating of the earth creates diferences in air pressure. Hence, wind.=

I blinked. What? <Um, thanks for the science lesson?=

<You9re welcome.= He still wasn9t looking at me, just studying the library9s façade, his pencil moving quickly across the paper.

<You9re drawing the library?=

<You9re very observant.= Deadpan. Then he sighed before glancing at me for a split second. <It9s the only building worth drawing in this place. Everything else is just generic smalltown America. I mean, it9s one if you like that sort of thing. And the whole aesthetic is quaint, I suppose, the decorations, the people, the . . . plaid epidemic.=

He actually gave me a once-over then, before picking up his stupid sketchbook and adding some more details. Meanwhile, I was about to explode. How dare he!

<Generic?= My face was red-hot. Matching my plaid shirt . . .

<Historically derivative. No original design elements.=

<I know what4= I stopped myself and took a breath, even though my rage was burning. <Enjoy your drawing and have a great evening.= I had never had to force myself so hard to be polite. Then I walked away, with my hair whipping all around me.

From behind me, I could hear him mutter, <Unbelievable.= Like I was the rude one.

Note to self: Avoid all-black-wearing, pencil-wielding jerks for the foreseeable future. Maybe Lennie had the right idea after all. Send all the tourists down the highway to the <other= Oak Falls. Let them be someone else9s problem.

" " "

By the time I got home I9d (mostly) erased the awful tourist from my mind. I walked through the door just as Pop was heating up leftover Chinese food. I thanked myself for having already eaten pizza with Lennie.

<Some mail on the table for you, honey,= Pop called out like that was a normal thing. There it was: a formal-looking white envelope with a New York postmark and two pieces of paper inside. One typed letter and one handwritten.

Subject: Estate of Ms. Lisa May Vaughn

Dear Ms. Taylor,

Please find enclosed the letter from your aunt, the contents of which I outlined in my email correspondence. Please contact my office at your earliest convenience in order to arrange completion of the necessary paperwork.

Sincerely,

Fred Ray, Esq. Ray & Black Associates

I hadn9t given the email another thought once I9d decided it was a scam. But now my hands were shaking as I read the letter. The letter that proved that it wasn9t a scam at all.

My Dearest Willa,

If you9re reading this, then I9m gone, and Fred has done his job. I hope he wasn9t too formal with you. He means well, but he does love his legalese.

I9m not going to spend this letter being sad or pretending we had some close relationship we didn9t.

The truth is, I barely know you. We met a handful of times when you were little, exchanged a few Christmas cards over the years, and that was it. I was never good at staying in touch. Never good at a lot of things, actually.

But lately, I9ve been thinking about you a lot.

Do you remember that Christmas when you were six or seven? I came down to Oak Falls for a visit and we went to that little coffee shop. You spent the whole time telling me about all the places you wanted to see. The Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, Disney World. You drew me a map on a napkin, with hearts marking every destination, dreams spilling out faster than you could draw them.

Your whole face lit up when you talked about it.

I recognized that look. Because I9d seen it in my own mirror.

Here9s what I need you to understand, Willa. I had dreams like that once. Different places maybe, but the same ore.

I don9t have kids. I don9t have anyone close enough to leave this money to. But I have you. A girl I barely know who drew me a map of her dreams on a coffee shop napkin all those years ago.

And that9s enough.

Your mom found everything she needed in Oak Falls. She was genuinely happy there, and that was her path. But you don9t have to follow it just because

it was hers. You don9t have to choose small just because it9s familiar.

I know $25,000 is a lot of money. I9m sure there are practical things you could do with it, like school, bills, helping your dad. But here9s what I learned too late . . . There will ALWAYS be practical reasons not to chase what you want. There will always be someone who needs you more, something more urgent, a better time.

The <right time= is a myth, Willa. There9s only now.

So I9m taking the choice out of your hands. This money is for one thing only. Seeing the world beyond Oak Falls. The world that little girl with the napkin map dreamed about.

I9m not telling you to leave tomorrow. Take your time. Plan it out. Go for a summer, a gap year, after college. Whatever works for you. But promise me you9ll go. Promise me you won9t let fear, or guilt, or other people9s expectations, dim that light I saw in those blue eyes.

Because here9s the truth that nobody will tell you. Choosing yourself isn9t selosh. Wanting more than what you were born into isn9t ungrateful. And leaving doesn9t mean you love the people at home any less.

The world is bigger, stranger, and more beautiful than Oak Falls could ever prepare you for. Go see

it all. Drink coffee in Italian piazzas. Get lost in London. Stand in front of art that makes you cry. Meet people who show you new ways of being you. Become whoever you9re meant to be, not who everyone expects.

Then come home (if you want to) and live whatever life feels true. You only get one life. Now go be brave.

All my love, Aunt Lisa May

P.S. If anyone asks why you9re going, you don9t need a reason that satisoes them. <Because I want to= is enough.

<Willa?= Pop9s words were a blur in the background as I stared at the piece of paper in my hands. <What is it?=

I looked up at him as the world came back into focus. Along with the smell of burning. <Pop, the microwave,= I warned him.

<Darn it!= Pop turned everything of, opened the back door, and came over to stand beside me. I handed him the letter, watched his face as he read it, and saw his mouth drop open.

<I had no idea.= Pop ran his hand over his stubbled jaw and looked at me. <We barely knew her. I should have made more efort after Mom . . .= He shook his head. <But this. This money, Willa4=

<I know, we could use it for repairs, or school, or something

like that.= I smiled, trying to take away the crease that had deepened on his forehead.

<No, Willa, that9s not what I was going to say at all. This money, it9s wonderful. And it9s all for you, honey.=

I couldn9t think straight. Couldn9t get my head around the fact that this was real life. That I9d been given $25,000 to see the world.

<But I like it here . . .= My words trailed of. Did it sound like I was trying to convince myself?

<Of course you do, it9s your home. But that doesn9t mean you can9t see what else is out there. Just know I9ll always be here, saving the cats of Oak Falls.= Pop smiled, and I felt comforted. Could I leave and then come back to ond that everything was the same as ever?

<Do I even want to leave?= I asked him, and he burst out laughing.

<Willa, that9s a question only you can answer.=

When he hugged me, I buried my face in his shirt, which smelled of woodsmoke, and I decided to put this decision aside for a little while (along with the burnt Chinese food). At least until tomorrow. Until I spoke to Lennie. She9d know what to do.

2 Lattes

AT THE LITTLE ACORN, I was focused on la es, pumpkin pies, and ashing the perfect smile for the tourists. I was good at pushing other stu away.

“I don’t believe it!” Linda Snell, Dr. Laurel’s receptionist, gasped from a table in the corner. She was staring at a copy of e Oak Falls Gaze e. “ is is an absolute outrage. ey’re just going to go ahead and cut it down, without a town vote?” Linda stood up with the newspaper.

“What’s happened, Linda?” Geo called from behind the counter, looking more concerned than he probably was. Linda Snell was the town gossip, always making mountains out of the tiniest molehills.

“ ey’re cu ing down the Kissing Tree!” she announced.

And now it was my turn to gasp.

“But they can’t! Isn’t it protected?” e Kissing Tree was part of our town history. It was a huge copper beech that stood tall and proud, looking over the apple orchards. e Kissing Tree was where I’d (sort of) had my rst kiss, and so had Lennie, and Krista, and Avery. And probably most of the people who lived in Oak Falls.

“It is protected. So . . . what are we going to do about this?” she demanded.

Silence again.

“We’ll think of something, Mrs. Snell, don’t we always?” Geo said. He winked at Linda and she blushed.

But then he changed the subject, turning to me. “Listen, Willa, I’ve just had a call from Lana and I need to duck out. Would you mind holding down the fort just until I get back?”

“Of course. I hope everything’s okay?” I said, although the coffee shop was packed.

“Just one of the boys,” Geo said with a sigh. “Sorry, Willa, I really do have to go.”

One of the boys meant Geo ’s sons. He had three of them, all older than me. e oldest two, Sam and Kyle, had always acted like the big brothers I wished I had. But James. Well, he was a different story. And speaking of the Kissing Tree . . . " " "

I don’t even know why we were there that day. Lennie and I had biked out near the orchards and Sam, Kyle, and James were there playing catch. eir ball ended up ying our way, and even though it didn’t hit me, I lost my balance and fell o my bike. It was James who ran over. James with his dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, with mud and cuts all over his knees.

“Where’d it go?” he asked. I pulled myself o the ground, looking for Lennie, but she was way behind.

“Aren’t you gonna ask if I’m okay?” I demanded. Even at that age, I was outraged by bad manners.

“Your legs look like they’re working just ne. So do your arms. Is your head working just ne too?” James asked.

I picked up the ball, which was beside my bike, and held it up to him with a smirk, then ran with it until I was under the Kissing Tree. Everyone knew that tree was home base. Protection. “Looking for this?” I taunted him.

I held the ball in the air, I don’t even know why. He was way taller than me.

“Give it back,” he demanded.

“Not until you say you’re sorry.”

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” he said, and I moved the ball when he tried to grab it.

“Yeah you did. You were rude. As my pop always says, manners cost nothing.”

He tried to snatch the ball again.

“Hey, you can’t do that,” I said, infuriated. “ e Kissing Tree is base!”

“ at’s a stupid name for a tree. What’s it got to do with kissing, anyway?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. Didn’t everyone know this already? “It’s where everyone comes to have their rst kiss. And then they put their names on the tree. Look.” I held the ball tight and pointed toward the li le hearts that had been cut into the tree. If you looked closely, you could see initials in their centers.

“Where’s your name, then?” he asked.

“Ew, gross! Why would I want to kiss anyone?”

He looked at me like he was thinking. “Maybe you’d wanna kiss me someday, Red?”

“Yeah no,” I said. ‘‘‘Red’?”

He shrugged. He looked down. And his voice was so er when he said, “I don’t know. I like your hair, I guess.”

en he smiled. is warm, wide smile that made his brown eyes twinkle like stars. And quicker than a ash he kissed me on the mouth, snatched the ball from my hand, and ran o faster than I could say “home base.”

I couldn’t even process what had happened, and I was just standing there with my ngers on my lips when Lennie nally caught up.

She jumped o her bike, out of breath. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What did just happen? Did I just have my rst kiss? Did it even count if it was stolen?

“James Parker just kissed me!”

“Are you gonna carve your name?” Lennie asked.

“No way. He didn’t even ask if he could kiss me!”

Lennie nodded, because she got it. We got each other. She said, “We’ll erase it.”

Lennie waved her hand over my face, and right then we decided that it was gone. e rst kiss had never even happened.

I’d still never carved my initials, not because I hadn’t had another kiss, but because I was saving my carving for something— or someone—really special. And now I wouldn’t even get the chance. Goodbye Kissing Tree.

" " "

By the end of my shi my legs were like jelly and my feet were on re.

I got home to see Pop painting the front-door frame. While he dipped his brush into a can of barn red, he said, “Hi, love, I picked you up some chicken from the library. It’s si ing in there in the kitchen.”

at didn’t quite compute. “Sorry, what?” I laughed. “ e library?”

“Jo. She fried up some chicken and gave me extra for xing the roof. I snuck some already and it is good. Anyway,” Pop said, switching gears. “ ought we could play cards tonight, what do you think? It’s been a while.”

“Sounds good.”

And it was. is was what life was. Fried chicken and card games in front of the re. Decorating the Li le Acorn for Harvest Festival and making pre y designs on la es. And it suited me just ne. But it was still there in the back of my mind. at weird email that was probably a scam.

Pop dealt the cards for Go Fish, the same game we’d been playing since I was ve. It didn’t ma er if I was distracted. I could play it in my sleep.

I mean, it was de nitely a scam. If it had been real, then a reallife le er would have shown up by now. But it hadn’t, because it wasn’t real.

“Willa?”

“What?” I looked up, shocked, forge ing that Pop couldn’t see inside my head.

“You forgot to say ‘Go Fish.’” Pop looked at me carefully. “Are you okay?”

I hesitated. I looked at my dad’s kind, weather-beaten face, and I just couldn’t tell him. If I ever got the le er . . . which I wouldn’t . . . then I’d tell him.

“Oh, I’m ne. Go Fish!’

" " "

Something was immediately di erent when I walked through the door of the Li le Acorn the next morning. e usual air of

sweet familiarity was absent, and so was Geo . Instead, behind the counter was some guy I’d never seen before in my life. Tall, broad-shouldered, in a red annel shirt, with gorgeous dark eyes, and taking up way more space than Geo ever did.

“Hi there?” I looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to clear up the confusion.

“Do you work here?” he asked me, dish towel in hand, his forehead creased with irritation. He’d barely even looked at me before he looked away again and started messing with my coffee machine. I looked around the co ee shop territorially. ere was something else di erent, but I couldn’t put— e pumpkins. My pumpkins. e ceramic ones I’d arranged so carefully on the oor beside the counter had been moved into a corner where you could barely see them.

I walked over and moved them right back.

“Yes, I’ve been here on weekends for more than a year now,” I told him. “Are you new?”

He sighed.

“No. I’m not new. My dad owns the place, and I’ve been sent in to save the day because he broke his leg last night.” He rolled his eyes.

“Wait, what? Your dad is Geo ? Geo broke his leg?” So much for just ducking out. e guy sighed again, like he could barely believe what he was saying. “Trying to put up Halloween lights on the house.” is was seriously bad. How would the co ee shop get by without Geo ?

“Is he okay?” I asked. “What can I do? I could bring him some donuts? He loves the maple-glazed ones and I could ask my pop to stop by, see if he needs any help with the yard. He has such a

big stretch of land out there . . .” My mind raced, trying to come up with something, anything I could do to help Geo .

But this boy didn’t seem interested in anything I had to o er. “He’ll be ne,” he said. “My mom’s gone into full nurse mode at the house, and her over-the-top involvement in other people’s lives is not just directed at Dad. Which is why I’m living out back for the foreseeable future.” He nodded behind him and toward a large shed behind the co ee shop, which Geo had never actually used for tools. I had always thought it would make a perfect tiny house.

But also. is was Geo ’s son . . . but it wasn’t Sam or Kyle.

“James?”

“Bingo. And who are you?”

“Willa. Willa Taylor.” I smiled breezily, pretending he and his kiss hadn’t been on my mind just yesterday.

He did not smile back. “Oh. Willa. Your name came up last night, actually. Before Dad fell and broke his leg, he said you did such a great job with the decorations here that he wanted to do the same to our house . . .”

“Oh no! He should have asked me to do it. No, no, no, I didn’t mean to put pressure on him. I just thought . . . Is he in a lot of pain? What if this is all my fault?” I asked.

James had no patience. “Like I said—he’s okay. My mom’s looking a er him, but now it means that I have to deal with . . . all this.” He waved his arm around the co ee shop in frustration.

So I basically broke Geo ’s leg, and now I was ruining things for James too.

I took a deep breath. “Here, let me make us co ees,” I said. “Your dad and I usually sit and have a la e before we open.” I had

to reach around him for the cups before awkwardly turning on the co ee machine, and somehow I could feel his irritation beaming into my back.

“I’m actually all set,” he said. For emphasis, he pointed at Geo ’s old chipped mug, lled with black co ee.

“Oh, oh-okay,” I stammered, but persisted with making my own la e.

It wasn’t my usual good work, though. I’d perfected the art of the la e, and even if I was making one for myself, I’d draw a li le something in the foam. Not today. My head was all over the place. It wasn’t like Geo was frail or anything, but he always liked to stick to what he knew. Simple routines. I was the one in charge of decorations in the co ee shop, and I would have helped Geo at home, too, if he’d just asked.

If I was distracted, I couldn’t even imagine how James was feeling. No wonder he was in a bad mood.

“So how come you’re back in town?” I asked him. “Was it just because of your dad breaking his leg, or a happy coincidence?” I smiled the smile that charmed all the customers.

“I wouldn’t call it happy,” he snapped.

“Aw, I bet your mom and Geo are over the moon to see you. And just in time for Harvest Festival! I’ve ordered more decorations for us here, and I have some great ideas about what we could do this year—”

James put his hand up to silence me and ipped the sign on the door to Open. “I’d actually prefer to work quietly, if you don’t mind?”

Stunned, I cleaned the already-clean co ee machine. Who did he think he was, holding up his hand at me like that? I started

dra ing the message I would send to Lennie when James wasn’t looking.

But when I nally thought of the best retort, I turned to say it and . . . watched him disappear into the back room. e bell dinged and I turned on my smile as Mr. Crossword walked in, wearing the same tweed jacket he always wore. His real name was Mr. Dillon, but he’d always been Mr. Crossword to me. He held up his copy of the Gaze e, then sat down in his usual spot in the corner.

“Morning, Miss Willa. Seventeen across. ‘Remote and standoish.’ Five le ers?”

“Aloof,” I said.

“Aloof!” Mr. Crossword beamed and wrote in the word. “A perfect t.”

I glanced at the back room where James had just disappeared. A perfect t indeed.

3 Li ary

THE NEXT MORNING, I texted Lennie as soon as I woke up.

Me: SOS. Are you awake?

Me: Can you come over before I go to the Acorn?

Lennie: My phone just vibrated, fell of my shelf, and hit me in the face. So . . . now I9m awake

Lennie: SOS in a good way?

Me: I think so?

Lennie: Intrigued

Lennie: See you soon

I mixed up some batter and started making pancakes. It was the least I could do, making Len get up so early, but I really needed to talk to her.

Pop rubbed his belly as he walked into the kitchen. <Do I smell pancakes?=

<You do. Want some?= I asked as I nipped. Golden and perfect.

<Please, sweetheart, and can I have some to take with me?=

<Sure thing. What9s going on today?=

<Just taking a look at a broken chicken coop up near the old mill.= Pop drizzled maple syrup over the pancakes I9d given him. He didn9t even sit, just stood at the counter and wolfed them down. When I handed him the next stack, I watched him wrap it up carefully in aluminum foil and slide it into his pocket.

<Pop, a stack of pancakes isn9t lunch. Promise me you9ll eat something else,= I urged him.

He looked at me fondly. <I will, don9t you worry. See you later?= He picked up his toolbox from beside the door.

<Later.= I saluted him with the spatula.

Lennie entered with perfect timing. I was just putting the last pancake on her stack when she threw the door open.

<I have arrived,= she declared. She still looked half asleep, her hair half in a ponytail, half not. She snifed the air.

<Pancakes!= She sighed, walked over, picked up her stack and the bottle of maple syrup, and took them over to the sofa. She curled up under Mom9s quilt and started eating.

<Okay, I kind of have something I need to talk to you about . . .= I said.

<Pancakes orst or talking orst?= Mouth full.

Pancakes with my best friend sounded good right about now.

We ate cuddled up together on the couch, and when we

were both stufed, Lennie took the plates to the kitchen and jumped back onto the sofa beside me.

<Okay, what is it? Is it a guy?= Lennie wriggled her eyebrows.

<Sorry to disappoint. But no. Although . . . I forgot to tell you Carter Blake did come into the Acorn yesterday. Remember him?= I sighed at the memory of his perfect face.

<Do I remember him? I think that boy will be seared into my memory until the end of time because of how obsessed you all were with him.=

<I mean, it was kind of justioed . . . and, if anything, he9s gotten even hotter. But he9s only back for a couple of weeks, I think, and no . . . it9s not a guy . . . Oh, but also, I ran into this other boy yesterday. You would have hated him.= I wondered why he popped into my mind right now. <Some tourist with a sketchbook, drawing the library. Super rude. Mansplained the wind to me, like he was some kind of weatherman.= I rolled my eyes.

<Ugh!= Lennie made a face. <See, I told you tourists were awful!=

<Not all of them. But this one deonitely was.=

<Okay one. But stop stalling,= Lennie said, going serious. <Is it something bad? Should I be worried?=

My stomach couldn9t decide whether it wanted to nip or puke. I bit my lip, took out my phone, and scrolled to the email. I handed her the phone and watched her face as she speed-read the email from the attorney.

<Willa, what the hell?! Is this for real?= she whispered in excitement.

<Well, I didn9t think it was real. I thought, total scam, right? But then . . . I got this.= I reached into my back pocket and handed her the folded-up letter from Aunt Lisa. And then Lennie was fully speechless, maybe for the orst time in her whole life.

When she let the letter drop onto the table, I waved my hand in front of her face. <Are you okay?=

She mimed her head exploding. <You know what this means, don9t you?=

<That I9m richer than I was yesterday?= I shrugged. But my mind was racing.

<London!=

<London?= I mean, it was on the list of places I wanted to go. Obviously. But why was she singling out London?

Lennie grabbed my shoulders, shaking them gently. <The course.=

<The course,= I repeated, trying to guide my brain to the same place hers had landed. And then it all came back.

One night at Lennie9s a few months ago, I9d been helping her research colleges when an ad popped up on the screen. One for the London School of Journalism. I was about to hit the little x in the right-hand corner when something stopped me. And of course Lennie, who noticed everything, saw my hesitation. She told me to open it, and when I did, it blew my mind. Because it was like someone had created this course just for me even though I didn9t know I wanted it.

One year at the London School of Journalism, learning to write like a travel writer. There were placements, portfolios, oeld trips. It looked amazing. Everything I could ever want

in a course, and in London. Except the one drawback. It cost $20,000.

And at the time I remembered being kind of relieved. Like Oh no, I could never aford it, I can9t do it. Which meant I could brush it right of and squash it down. And that was that.

<London!= Lennie whispered again. <You9re always making me watch movies set there. Remember that super-boring one? What was it called . . . I can9t remember, actually, they9re all super boring, except for 28DaysLater. Does it count if it9s postapocalyptic?= Lennie was of on a tangent.

<I would love to go to London . . .= I said. But then came the tidal wave of all the things Aunt Lisa had told me not to consider. Practicalities, responsibilities, people I9d leave behind.

<I9m pretty sure there9ll be an exam and everything to get into it. Which I probably wouldn9t even pass.=

Lennie was already scrolling on her phone. In about two seconds, she found the entry criteria, which she showed me on her screen. A multiple-choice exam and an essay. The personal essay prompt was <What is your relationship with travel? What does it mean to you?= Not that I even knew. What was my relationship with travel? Nonexistent.

Lennie studied the page and grew pensive. <I can help you with this, Will. Not that you9ll need any help with the writing, you9re an amazing writer. It9s just . . . I can help you learn the boring stuf, if you want. I9ve got loads of experience learning boring stuf.=

Lennie9s eyes were sparkling. How could I ever leave her behind?

<And the exam is just before Thanksgiving. That9s plenty of time.=

<I don9t know . . .= It was all so soon. Thanksgiving was less than two months away, and this course started . . . next September? I was happy here in Oak Falls. Wasn9t I? I felt sick about leaving, terrioed about failing the exam, and somehow also ozzing with excitement when I imagined stepping of a plane into England.

<Willa, stop! Okay, let9s make a plan. How about this? You can spend every weekend in the library studying. That should be enough.=

Except I was still in high school, and I had a job. <What about the cofee shop . . . ?=

Lennie nodded. <Yeah. You might have to quit your weekends there4or at least take a break. You9ll need that time.=

<And Pop . . .=

<You haven9t told him yet?=

<No, I have, he was there last night when I got the letter,= I admitted, trying to think straight.

<And what did he say?=

<He was happy for me . . .=

<Of course he was. This is amazing, and you can do it. Stop making excuses. Aunt Lisa even says it in her letter. Listen to Aunt Lisa. Right?=

<Right?= I said it as a question. Reluctant to sound like I was happy already. Scared to admit it.

She just leaned over and hugged me, and I let myself relax into the arms of the best friend any girl could ever have.

Somehow I agreed to call Pop, right there and then, since Lennie made me braver.

<Willa? What9s wrong?= he asked when he answered. He sounded slightly out of breath, like he9d rushed for his phone.

<Oh, nothing9s wrong. Where are you?=

<That job near the mill. What9s up, sweetheart?=

<Remember Aunt Lisa9s letter?= I began.

<Has something else happened?=

<No, it9s not that. It9s just, there9s a course I was thinking of maybe applying to. In London. And there9s an exam at Thanksgiving, and I think I9ll have to quit the cofee shop to have time to study4=

<Will, honey, calm down. This is all okay. We9ll ogure it all out, and if you need to quit the cofee shop to study, then that9s okay.=

<But what about the money? Are you sure?= I9d been giving Pop some of my paycheck every month, just to help with bills and repairs.

<That9s not for you to worry about,= he insisted. <Look, Will, I have to get back to work, but we can talk about this when I9m home. In the meantime, promise you won9t worry. That money is for you, and if you want to do a course in London, then London it is.=

When I hung up, I looked at Lennie. Her eyebrows were raised.

<Well, that was painful to watch. You were totally spiraling,= she said.

<I was not spiraling,= I lied.

<You totally were. But your pop9s cool with it, so what9s your next excuse?=

<Can I ask you a favor?= As if she hadn9t already volunteered to do so much already.

<Hit me,= Lennie said. <I9m ready.=

<Will you come with me to the Acorn?= I asked her. <I don9t think I can handle this alone.=

<Only if you promise not to cry. I can9t deal with tears this early in the morning.=

Geof was already there, as usual. Setting up the cofee machine, placing the little centerpieces on the tables, and straightening all the fall decorations I9d put up. How could I just quit? I wasn9t a person who gave up on things. I wasn9t a person who did travel journalism courses, either, but maybe that was about to change.

<Geof, can I talk to you for a minute?= I asked, my eyes already starting to oll.

<Of course you can, Willa. What9s on your mind? We could be in for a real busy one today.= I stole a glance at Lennie, who gave me a thumbs-up.

I just blurted it out, like my body wanted to expel the words. <I need to quit . . .= I said in one breath. <For a while at least . . .=

<Well, that9s just one, Willa,= Geof said without a hint of doubt. He put down the stack of cups he was holding and looked at me. <Are you okay? Because if it9s something to do with those vegan muïns I made, Lana9s already told me that they gave her a stomachache, her sister, too, so I won9t be

making those again . . .= he promised. Geof was so good at putting people at ease.

I shook my head. <Nothing like that,= I told him. <I just need the time, to study . . . for something big. But if you9re really stuck, I can come back to lend a hand. And maybe we could talk again in a few months, though I understand if you need to replace me.=

Geof put a hand on my shoulder. <Willa, honey, don9t you worry about a thing. I9ll be sad to see you go, but your studies must always come orst, that9s what I always tell my boys.=

I swallowed the lump in my throat, said goodbye to Lennie, and began my shift. Maybe my last shift ever.

While I delivered cofees and slices of pie to tables, I was careful to take it all in. There was Mr. Crossword, and Mrs. Porter, and Peter Tracey and his girlfriend Lily from tenth grade, who had been coming here for the last six months. A couple of months ago Peter had given me some roses and asked if I could decorate their table with petals because he was going to ask Lily out and he wanted it to be romantic. They9d been my favorite couple ever since. And there was Linda Snell, as regular as clockwork, with her friends who came to the Little Acorn to gossip every Sunday after church.

Mr. Crossword was staring intently at the Gazette. <It9s a tough one today. Seven letters. 8A risky or daring journey.9 Any ideas?=

I paused by his table, grateful for the distraction of normality. And then it came to me in a nash, and my heart sank and swelled at the same time.

<Venture.=

Mr. Crossword looked at me over his reading glasses. <Not sure what I9d do without you to help me with these darn things.=

I picked up an empty cofee cup and got back to work, trying to distract myself before I broke down crying into someone9s cappuccino.

At the end of the day, when the kitchen staf had gone home, I lingered, helping Geof nip the chairs onto the tables. I looked around at the pretty string lights, the ceramic pumpkins, the knitted fall leaves, the chrysanthemums. All the efort I9d put in to decorate, and now I was . . . leaving.

<Take your time, Willa, just put the keys through the door when you9re done,= Geof said. He took of his apron and hung it up. <But you know where to get your cofee while you study.= He winked, and I smiled.

<I wouldn9t go anywhere else,= I vowed.

<I9ll leave you to it. Oh, and be sure to take home that leftover pie.= Geof pointed to the cardboard box he9d left on the counter.

I just sat there for a while, letting it all sink in, and it was like the cofee shop settled around me. The creak of old wood, the sigh of the radiator, almost like it was saying goodbye too. <Thanks for the memories,= I whispered to the place.

There was a bite in the air as I left, shocking any sadness from my bones as soon as I stepped onto Main Street. I pulled my jacket around me and took out my phone.

Me: Going back to the library to grab some books for research, wanna come?

Lennie: Can9t tonight. WW3 here, Anna9s report card did not go down well

Me: Poor Anna!!

Lennie: Poor Anna nothing. She should just study like her genius sister

Me: <Genius=? See you tomorrow x

I walked over to the library, stopping at Jo9s desk on the way in. <Want some pie?= I asked. <I have extra.=

Jo beamed at me when I opened the box. <Back so soon? Well, your daddy was telling me all about this pie from Geof9s. You9re such a love, Willa, thank you so much. Is Lennie with you? That book she ordered is in now. The fantasy one with the dragon on the cover, she9s been asking about it every single day.=

I gave Jo a piece of the pie on a napkin and she took a bite, then glanced around. <Oh my goodness, this is just heaven. Don9t tell anyone I9m breaking my own rules.=

I smiled. <Geof9s secret recipe. But no, it9s just me today. I was going to take a look at the travel books.=

<Travel books?= Jo said, lighting up. <Now, that9s my favorite section. And I just keep ordering more even when we don9t really have enough shelf space.= She gestured at the overstufed shelves opposite her desk. <Anything in particular you9re looking for?=

<Just looking around. Just want to see what9s there.=

<Well, we9ve got the whole world on those shelves,= Jo said, taking another bite of pie. <And if you need any recommendations, you know where to ond me.=

I headed in the direction of Lennie9s favorite spot to drop my bag while I searched the shelves. Halfway through the romance aisle, though, I stopped in my tracks. There he was. Sitting in Lennie9s seat by the window, his head stuck in some giant textbook. The mansplaining weatherman.

Me: Guess who9s in your seat at the library . . .

Lennie: It better be you

Me: Mr. <mansplaining the wind=

I laughed when I saw Lennie9s reply. A bunch of expletives mixed with emojis.

And I covered my mouth too late. He9d seen me. He9d heard me.

Mr. Arrogant looked straight up the aisle and sighed dramatically. <I9m actually trying to study here, if you don9t mind.=

I turned to look at the rows of books, just so I wouldn9t be glaring at him. He was intense. Serious. And, I realized, kind of sexy if you were into guys with egos. I could feel my cheeks nush. What was even happening? I walked away, quickly, back to Jo9s desk. Back to safety.

<What9s the deal with the grouch down there?= I rolled my eyes toward where he was sitting. He was just so rude. It was infuriating. And if he was a tourist, shouldn9t he be going back home to wherever he came from?

Jo leaned over the desk and lowered her voice. <Well, you know Hadley Spence and her husband, Aloe?= <Yeah?=

<He=4Jo pointed toward the grumpy guy4<He is Aloe9s brother, Theo. And I don9t know what9s going on, but that one9s carrying some worries, if you ask me. I9d go a little easy on him. There usually is a reason when people aren9t kind.=

<He wasn9t kind to you?= I asked, shocked that anyone could be anything but nice to Jo.

<Oh, I can deal with him just one.=

<I feel kind of bad for him now,= I said, glancing back. He was still reading the giant book, leg bouncing under the table.

Jo cocked her head and looked at me. <Don9t get me wrong. If he speaks to me like that again, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.= That was more like it, I thought.

I picked up a couple of books from the travel section and walked back toward Lennie9s desk with the intention of giving Theo another chance.

He didn9t even look up when I sat down. I pushed the pie box across the table at him.

I smiled. <Pumpkin pie?=

He arched an eyebrow and opened the box like he was scared. <I9ve already eaten . . .=

<And you can9t eat again?=

<It9s a library.= His tone was condescending, but he picked up the little wooden fork and started to poke at the pie, taking the tiniest piece and tasting it. <Total sugar overload. But thank you.=

<So what9s your story? I don9t think I9ve seen you at Oak High?= I asked, as cheerfully as I could manage. Not everyone made a good orst impression. Especially if he was sad about something, as Jo thought.

<No. I graduated last year. I checked out the community college for while I9m stuck here, but . . . it9s not exactly . . . academic... is it?= He took another bite of pie, and I couldn9t help noticing that he was handling the sugar just one.

<I think it9s supposed to be okay.= I bristled at the <stuck here.= <What is it you want to study, that needs a more academic school?= I hoped I didn9t sound as irritated as I was. How dare he come to Oak Falls and criticize things he knew nothing about?

<Architecture. And even if I could put up with the subpar schooling, it9s not as if I can ond inspiration in the varied buildings around here. Except for the library, I guess. That9s why I was sketching yesterday4=

<Subpar schooling?= I repeated. This guy?! My chest tightened at his patronizing expression. Eyebrows raised, like he couldn9t believe I9d question him.

<Well, yes, precisely. Like I said, not for rocket scientists, right? And this place isn9t exactly full of culture.= He actually snorted.

I9d never been so angry on behalf of my hometown before. The way he looked down on the pie that was made every morning from scratch. The way he was judging and sticking his nose in the air.

Yeah, maybe I got annoyed with Oak Falls sometimes, but I lived here. I was allowed to get annoyed. He was a stranger.

<Well, where are you from that9s so great, then?= I tried and failed to take the emotion out of my voice.

<Well, I9m from Boston. But my mom, she9s from London, so I spend a lot of time there, and that is real culture. I guess if you9ve never left here, you just wouldn9t get it.=