Page 4 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

With love,

Isabel

“I didn’t know Great-Grandma Isabel was a writer,” Robyn murmured to herself.

“Well,” Mrs. Bishop declared, “this is the most exciting thing to happen around here in a hot minute.”

Mrs. C. plucked the manuscript neatly from her hands.

“We’ll take this straight to the library and make photocopies.”

“Wait—” Robyn began, but it was useless.

Mrs. C. handed the twine-tied envelope, which had been tucked inside the book, to Tyler. The first clue.

“We’ll return this shortly,” she said, acting as if she were borrowing a casserole dish and nothing more.

“Don’t open that clue yet,” Mrs. Bishop warned. “We must do it together.”

“Together… yes…” Mrs. C. was thinking, her eyes growing distant. “We must reinstate the Maple Falls Book Club.”

“Oh, yes. It’s been years since we’ve had one. Decades, really,” Mrs. Bishop chimed in.

“It’s been far too long. Leave it to me. I’ll arrange everything. We’ll read the story and follow the clues as a group. Do. Not. Open it,” Mrs. C. reiterated, pointing at the two of them like the bossy librarian she used to be.

Tyler felt mildly shell-shocked, but he was obedient to a fault. He held the envelope out to Robyn.

She took it carefully.

“We’ll be back in a jiffy!” Mrs. Bishop called, already marching down the sidewalk beside Mrs. C.

The moment they were out of earshot, Tyler let out a quiet laugh.

“You realize she’ll have book club flyers printed by tonight, right?”

Robyn exhaled. “Guess I’d better put this inside then.”

“Here, let me,” Tyler said, grabbing the door for them both.

The wind swirled around them, lifting the strands of her hair, scattering dried leaves, and sending the scent of her—crisp apples, sweet cinnamon, and amber—straight to his senses.

She’s not a freaking apple tart, he told himself. But then again, he’d bet that she’d taste just as sweet.

Tyler shoved his free hand into the pocket of his khakis to keep from reaching for her.

It was those thoughts that kept Tyler busy with the last boxes from the stockroom and away from Robyn, stacking them near the clearance table so they could sort them tomorrow.

He worked three, sometimes four days a week at the bookstore, and the rest of his time he spent editing remotely for a New York publisher—lots of reading, lots of deadlines, and a quarterly flight to the Big Apple that always made him miss Maple Falls before he’d even left it.

He hadn’t expected to care so much about this bookstore. He’d taken the job to help Meg out when his work slowed. It was supposed to be temporary.

Now, with the For Sale sign haunting the window, he felt… oddly protective. Like the place was part of the town’s heartbeat. Like it belonged to Robyn too, which was, again, not helpful.

He glanced toward the counter where Robyn was ringing up the last customer, her voice warm and polite, her smile easy in a way that made Tyler’s heart squeeze. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Tyler had to look away before he started imagining what it would feel like to do it for her.

Absurd.

He lifted another box and tried to focus on the weight in his hands.