Page 97 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

“Marilyn Montgomery arrived on a Sunday, just as the church bells were finishing their last hymn. She stepped off the bus with a suitcase in one hand and a letter in the other, the paper soft at the creases from being unfolded and refolded so many times it felt like a prayer.

Maple Falls smelled like woodsmoke and apples. She stood on the sidewalk and told herself she was only here for two weeks—long enough to settle an estate, long enough to pack up memories neatly into boxes, long enough to leave before anyone could look at her too closely.

She had made a plan.

Plans were what kept you safe.

‘Miss Montgomery?’ a voice called.

Marilyn turned.

A man stood beside a black truck parked at the curb, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a book tucked beneath one arm like it belonged there. He was not the sort of man who looked away when he caught someone staring. His gaze held hers—steady, assessing, and entirely too aware.

‘You’re late,’ he said, as if he’d been expecting her.

Marilyn’s grip tightened on her suitcase handle. ‘Excuse me?’

His mouth tipped, not quite a smile. ‘Your letter said you’d be on the noon bus.’

Marylin cocked her head. ‘How do you know about my letter?’ she whispered.

The man stepped closer, lowering his voice as if the town itself might be listening.

‘Because,’ he said, ‘I’m the one who sent for you.’”

Robyn’s voice settled as she continued to read the selected scenes. The cadence and rhythm of the sentences slipped under her skin as if they’d all been hers all along. Robyn could almost feel Isabel beside her, amused and proud that her great-granddaughter was reading her words in a corset in front of half the town.

And then Robyn reached the place where Isabel’s story ended and where her own began.

She took one breath. Then she kept reading. They were her words now, the ending she’d written at four in the morning with cold tea and shaking hands and everything she had left. Her voice didn’t waver, not once.

When she reached the end and looked up, no one spoke.

The second felt endless.

And then the bookstore erupted.

Whistles. Clapping. A few delighted gasps. Someone near the back actually squealed, “Oh my God,” like they’d forgotten they were in public.

Robyn’s chest filled with pride so sudden it almost hurt.

She couldn’t believe that it had all been worth it. All the fear. All the stress. Every moment that she’d wanted to crawl under a blanket and disappear—it had paid off in the end.

Robyn stepped down from the podium, cheeks warm as people leaned in to compliment her.

“That was incredible.”

“I need the rest.”

“Absolutely iconic.”

“Where can I get a copy?”

Robyn smiled and thanked them, moving through the crowd toward Tyler.

He stood near the counter with Meg—who said she couldn’t miss the event and had arrived just in time—and another woman Robyn didn’t recognize. The stranger’s posture was elegant, her hair sleek, her expression bright.

Meg spoke first, eyes wide as she took in the crowd, the decorations, the stacks of booklets steadily disappearing from Mrs. C.’s table. She looked polished in a fitted cream sweater that hugged her curvy figure, dark jeans, and heeled ankle boots.