“Hello.” Ava bent down and scratched him under the chin. “And who are you?”
“That’s Jack.” Jack leaned into Ava, tail wagging. “He’s kind of the town dog. He doesn’t belong to anyone, so everyone feeds him.”
Jack yawned and trotted off.
“He’s very cute.” Ava straightened up. “A dog like that in Chicago would get taken to the pound.”
“One thing that is true of Jonathon Island is that they take care of their own.” Saying the words out loud made them ring true. But if it was the case that Jonathon Island cared about people, why didn’t he feel that way? Could it be only in his own mind that they judged him poorly? Maybe he’d taken the heavy emotions the town had felt after the Grand burned down too personally. Other than that poor attempt at a joke by IsaacKelley and the dig the old-timer had gotten in at Dani’s wedding, everyone had been genuinely kind to him recently.
They fell silent, pausing a few times for Ava to take some photos.
Light spilled from the window of Oliver’s bookstore, welcoming them. Ollie stood at the door in a T-shirt and jeans, bow tie at his neck, holding it open.
“Hello, sir, madam. Welcome to my establishment.” He bowed at the waist before extending an arm to point the way. “Please make yourselves comfortable. We have the very finest selection of books for you this evening.”
Eliza stood with a towel over her arm. She held a cookbook with both hands, extending it as though it were a wine bottle. “Vintage 1982. I think you will find that the flavors are very complex.” The cover featured a grandma-type woman in a frilly apron holding out a chocolate cake.
“Ha ha.” Though heat crept up the back of his neck, Zach couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “Very funny. Ava, I apologize for my brother. He thinks he’s hilarious. Apparently, he’s dragged Eliza into it too.” Though, this lighter side of Ollie was new. Last time he’d been home, Ollie had been…grouchier. Maybe it was Eliza doing the influencing.
Ava laughed. The sound, light and carefree, went directly to his heart. “Don’t worry about it. I like being teased. I never had siblings, so it’s fun to be treated like I belong.”
Ollie moved to stand next to Eliza. “Seriously, guys. We’ll leave you to it. Want me to direct you to a certain shelf?”
Zach glanced down at Ava. He still hadn’t told her what they were up to. “Cookbooks.” A black-and-white patterned runner drew a line over the dark floor to the register. Rows of bookshelves stood behind a large round table displaying the dark jewel-toned covers of the book series by the fantasy authorVictor Holt. Pendant lights lit the space. Ollie had done well for himself.
“We have a bunch of them over on that shelf.” Ollie thumbed toward the back of the store. “Help yourself.” He grabbed Eliza’s hand, and the two of them disappeared somewhere else in the store.
Zach led Ava to the shelf of cookbooks. Ollie wasn’t kidding. On the shelf a wide variety of options waited in a line.
Ava tugged at one.Blueberry Delights.She showed him the cover. A lattice-topped blueberry pie sat on a table surrounded by lilacs. “Yum.”
He ran a finger along the shelf. “How about32 Ways to Use Spam?”
“Gross. That’s not a real thing.”
He grabbed the book and showed it to her, the iconic blue-and-yellow can featured prominently on the front. They laughed. As he replaced the book, he found one that might be what they needed. A French cookbook from this year. He flipped it open and checked the table of contents. Jackpot.
“See anything you like?”
“These are all Greek to me,” Ava said. She handed him a copy ofThe Greek Table, A Mediterranean Cookbook. “Seriously, though. I’m not sure what I would do with a cookbook.”
“You’re a smart cookie. I know you can learn to follow a recipe.” He tucked the Greek cookbook and the French one under his arm and headed for the checkout. “We should let Ollie close up.”
Ava trailed behind him.
After they paid, they went next door to Doug’s Market. What the old-fashioned grocery store lacked in selection, it made up for in charm. Stepping inside was like stepping back in time. Thankfully, they had an excellent cheese counter.
Gary Jacobs, a fiftysomething man who looked like he’d be more comfortable as a football linebacker than a cheesemonger, waited to help them.
“I need some ricotta and a pound of Parmesan,” Zach said. “And then can you point me to the flour?”
Gary sliced them a neat hunk of Parmesan from the wheel on top of the counter, then pointed at the stack of ricotta tubs. “The flour is down aisle four,” he said before turning away to wash the tools he’d used for the Parmesan.
The sage he needed should be in the next row over.
After he’d picked out some semolina flour, Ava blocked his way out of the aisle. She put her hands to her hips. “I’m beginning to suspect what this date is all about.”
“Really,” he said. “What gave it away?”
