“Technically, I had company,” Amelia Mae tells her. “I counted fifteen other people in my train car.”
Fiona looks like she might pass out.
“Don’t worry, I sat next to a very nice old woman, and we talked about books. So…you’re not mad?”
“I’m nothappy,but no—I’m not mad. Which doesn’t mean you should ever pull something like that again. And drama camp is not cheap. You should’ve told me you didn’t want to do it.”
“I did! Seven times! You didn’t listen.” Amelia Mae widens her dark eyes. “So, did you talk to Miguel yet?”
“Fortunately, I had the good sense to answer his call even though I was in the middle of canceling everything on Uncle Jon’s calendar. Though honestly, I did have a hunch that there was a disturbance in the Force. How did you even find this place?”
“I asked someone at the train station where it was, then walked. Less than a mile, door-to-door. At least that’s what the guy told me. How’dyouget here?”
Fiona reaches for the bookshelf to steady herself. “A taxi. Sweetheart, someone could have snatched you!”
“I know I said I was worried about Uncle Jon getting kidnapped—but I did some research, and it turns out that random kidnappings are a statistical anomaly. Not that you need another worst-case scenario to haunt your dreams, but I’m more likely to choke to death on a fish bone than be abducted. Besides, I was walking through town, not down someeerie dirt road—though I bet we could find one around here.” Amelia Mae crosses her arms over her chest. “The main thing is that I promised Harry that I’d see him again, and whether you like it or not, I’m a girl of my word.”
I give Fiona my biggest puppy dog eyes, and shedoesseem to soften. “The dog. Of course. You are sort of compelling, aren’t you?” she says tome.
Am I? Do I still have it? She didn’t even say anything about my eyebrows!
“Still,” says Fiona, “this dog—”
“Harry,” Amelia Mae interjects. “Best friend to Miguel,yournew friend, who you’ve been miserable without. Like I told Harry, you haven’t touched your notebooks since he left.”
Fiona adjusts her glasses. “Darling, I appreciate your thinking about me, and I find it sweet that you somehow believe your old mom’s obsessiveness is a good thing. But the notebooks aren’t important, and I’ve had my hands full with—well, your uncle’s decision.”
“You’re not old.”
“Thank you, love, though I noticed you didn’t refute my obsessiveness. Now, why wouldn’t you tell me you were going to come here?”
She sighs heavily. “Idid.And again, you didn’t listen. ‘Too far.’ ‘Not right now.’ ‘Maybe later,’ ” she recites, making puppets out of her hands.
“Well, Iamyour mother. Last I checked, that makes me the de facto decision-maker in these scenarios.”
“Um. Hi,” says Miguel, who’s just loped over from the bathroom. “Thanks for—well, I guess you had to come.”
“Hello there,” says Fiona in her singsong voice. Though her sweat smells nervous, too, she’s a cool breeze compared tohim. “And yes, yes, I did. But now that I’m here, I’m glad. I like your bookstore quite a bit. Jon really blew it not coming to his event.”
Amelia Mae steps in front of Miguel and addresses Fiona. “I told you this place would beamazing.Wait until you see Stabby Peeps!”
Miguel raises an eyebrow at Riley across the room, who holds her hands up and tries to suppress her smile.
“I could live there. Though you’ll probably like the back of the store better,” she says, referring to the Romance section, which Riley hasn’t moved yet.
“Are you going to run off again?” Fiona asks her.
“How many times do I have to remind everyone that it’s perfectly legal for me to be on my own?”
Fiona looks over the top of her glasses at her daughter. “The legality of your great escape is debatable, dear heart, and I suspect Child Protective Services might have something to say about you checking out of camp without my permission, to say nothing of your train voyage. How did you pull that off, exactly?”
“I may or may not have forged a letter from you saying I had therapy. Aren’t you always saying reading is therapeutic?”
“Good-ness,Amelia Mae,” says Fiona, making that angry-proud face again. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Buy me this?” she says, holding up her novel.
Miguel sighs. “The book’s on me.”
