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“That’s how it always starts,” Eli added, shaking his head. “It’s just a casual thing until it isn’t.”

Well, yeah, but this relationship had an end date. Marlowe had no intention of ever leaving Lark Springs. And that was a pity.

On Friday after work, Jace went over to Mrs. Partridge’s house to pull weeds. It had never been a favorite activity when he lived at home, but Marlowe came out to help and that made all the difference. The two talked and she had him laughing in no time—telling him that she had to veto her grandmother’s idea of buying a flamethrower to take care of the weeds.

“If the house burns down,” Marlowe said, “you’ll know that’s why, despite what she tells you about random lightning strikes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He’d pulled a dandelion, and on an impulse, reached over and slid the bloom behind her ear. His fingers skimmed across her cheek, and for a moment he longed to let his hand linger, to tangle it into her hair. He should say something, make a joke about turning her into a flower child. Instead, he just silently gazed at her.

She watched him, waiting for him to … what? He knew what he would have done years ago.

He looked away and cleared his throat. “Did you ask Delancey what she thought your comparative advantage as a hairstylist was?”

“Yes,” Marlowe said with a sigh. “She said my biggest draw is that I’m half therapist. She suggested naming my salon Hairstyles and Affirmations.”

That fit Marlowe. “Could that actually be a thing?”

“No,” Marlowe said. “I can’t advertise a salon as a place where you can get a trim and unload your problems. Although that’s what a lot of people do.” She shrugged and her hair spilled off her shoulder. “All of Grandma’s senior friends come in. So many of them are lonely. People’s families really should check on their grandparents more often.”

“You’re right,” he said and made a mental note to call his grandmother. “Did Delancey mention anything else?”

Marlowe hesitated. “She said I ought to advertise that I give free book recommendations with every haircut. Which yes, I kind of do. And no, that is also not an actual thing either. So I don’t have anything to put down as a comparative advantage. I can’t just say I’m nice to people.”

“Put it down,” he said. “It’s the truth.”

“Everyone thinks they’re nice,” she said. “No one walks around believing they’re a mean person.”

Jace took out his phone. “I’m not sure you’re right. But in the name of science, I’m going to survey my friends and family.” He started adding names to a group text. “I can guarantee that Carson is going to be a no to that question.”

“Carson is an offensive lineman. They’re not supposed to be nice. He doesn’t count.”

Jace grunted, refusing to concede the point. “When Lucas was a policeman, no one ever thought he was nice. Especially me. Who gives their brother a speeding ticket?”

Marlowe’s jaw dropped open. “He did that?”

“Gleefully. He said it would be nepotism if he let me off. Served him right when I stole his car, took off my glasses, and ran through a photo speed camera, flipping it the bird. He had fun explaining that one to the judge.”

Marlowe blinked at him. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. I guess that pretty much assures I don’t make the nice list.”

“Seriously. Did Santa just skip the Clark house every year?”

He added more names to his list. “Elsie is nice. My mom, on the other hand… She gave Jennifer such a passive-aggressive talk that Jennifer may avoid Lark Springs for the rest of her life. And if my father says he’s nice, his children should take a vote on the validity of that claim.”

“Poor Elsie.”

“I know. It’s why she loves Olivia and Riley.”

After Jace sent out his survey, Mrs. Partridge came outside to bring them glasses of water and oversee their progress. “You all keep flirting instead of pulling weeds,” she said. “I’d complain, but I suppose since Marlowe is here helping, the two of you put together are going the speed of one normal person.”

Jace leaned closer to Marlowe and whispered, “Said like someone from the not-nice category.”

“Grandma,” Marlowe called to her, “do you consider yourself a nice person?”

“Not if you’re about to hit me up for a favor.” Grandma turned and hurried back into the house.

“I think I win this argument,” Jace said.