“I’m actually going out of town,” Honey said, almost to herself, before the door swung shut.
It whipped back open. Ruby popped her head out, eyes wide. “You’re what now?”
“Going on assignment. Out of the city.”
Ruby stepped fully back into the hall. “Honey Baxter leaving the city? Why I never,” she said, adopting an awful southern accent. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were joking.”
Ruby knew Honey’s…preferences. Ruby had her things as well. She sang to her plants in the mornings, had a morbid fascination with death rituals, and sometimes cried on the fire escape at night. Honey had heard, but she never asked. It was one of the things that made their odd little neighborship work: a mutual understanding built on proximity, politeness, and a shared respect for privacy.
“Well, don’t fall in love with a farmer and move away.”
Honey gave a half-smile as she unlocked her own door. “I would never.”
“You better not.” Ruby wagged a finger as she moved to shut the door. “And text me when you’re back. We’ll reschedule the poker night and I’ll bring the good snacks. Maybe even brie,” Ruby said. “With crackers that cut the roof of your mouth, but you don’t even care because the cheese is that good.”
“Looking forward to it,” Honey said dryly.
Ruby paused in her doorway. “You’re a good egg, Honey Baxter. Even if you do float like a hallway ghost.”
“And you’re a sweaty disaster. But you’re endearing.”
Ruby barked a laugh before shutting the door.
Honey waited for the click of Ruby locking the door and then stepped into her apartment. She slipped off her shoes, set her keys on the small hook by the door—same place, every day—and glanced around the room. Everything was just as she’d left it: clean, orderly, controlled.
She stood there for a long moment, listening to nothing. Then she exhaled, a soft sound in the stillness, and started packing.
Chapter 3
Ethan
Ethan Hale had survived a small toaster fire, a goat escape, and the daily chaos of raising three daughters on his own, but nothing tested his patience like a Brim’s Hollow Town Meeting.
Most weeks, Ethan would’ve skipped the town meeting without a second thought. Ever since becoming a single father last year, the people of Brim’s Hollow had given him more grace than he knew what to do with. They showed up with casseroles he didn’t need and advice he didn’t ask for. Sure, he’d caught Poppy discreetly straightening the living room more than once when he dropped by, and the school principal was losing patience with their lack of punctuality, but for the most part, they let him keep to himself.
So, yes, they’d forgive him for skipping one more meeting.
But today was different. It was only days until the Bureau of Compliance was coming to his home. As much as it pained him to admit, he needed to know what the town planned to do about it. If anyone could keep bureaucrats atbay, it was the stubborn, privacy-loving folks of Brim’s Hollow.
By the time he got the girls ready to drop off at the neighbors, he was late, but he brought baked goods. In Brim’s Hollow, that was as close to a formal apology as you could get.
The school parking lot was packed, so Ethan nudged his truck halfway up onto the grassy curb. Balancing the foil-covered tray on one arm, he jogged up the steps two at a time.
Juniper Marrow, principal of Brim’s Hollow Elementary and unofficial mayor of, well, everything, blocked the double doors. She was in her mid-thirties, dressed in a midi skirt and a fitted cardigan embroidered with tiny moons. She pushed her glasses up her nose and checked something off on her clipboard as he passed her.
Her eyes flicked up. “You’re late.”
“I brought apple pie cookies.”
“You think you can bribe me with sugar and cinnamon?”
“I think I brought you three that are just on the right side of burnt, just like you like them and a promise not to interrupt public comment.”
Juniper hesitated, then glanced at the tray. “Are they still soft in the middle?”
“I’m not a monster.”
“Hm.” She stepped aside just enough to let him pass. “If anyone asks, you were here early helping me set up.”
