Page 97 of A Novel Love Story

Whoever coveted a book boyfriend was a fool.

“Well, hopefully by the next time you come, the bed-and-breakfast will be open,” Maya said, “so you don’t have to stay in a place that smells like dusty old books.”

“Ifshe ever leaves,” Ruby pointed out cryptically.

“I did tell her she could stay,” Junie added.

“Don’t curse her like that.” Maya scowled. “People rarely leave. It’s one of those things—like the Hotel California. And not in a good way.”

Ruby nodded. “Bea’s even coming back.”

That would be nice, to meet Bea, too. In interviews, Rachel always said she felt most like Beatrice Everly. She wrote herself the most in her.

I couldn’t imagine why Bea would leave Eloraton to begin with, because I’d been searching for a way to stay. Every morning was bright and sunny, the honey taffy always sweet, the burgers at Gail’s always burnt,the smell of freshly cut grass and honeysuckle in the wind like a familiar perfume. I couldn’t imagine anywhere more perfect. Even sitting in a café named after a certain famed rodent—

I slammed down my mostly empty coffee mug.

Oh mygod.

That was it.

“The possum,” I blurted.

The girls looked at me like I’d grown another head.

“What?” Maya asked.

“This place is named after one, yeah,” Ruby said.

“No, no, possums can swim up to fifteen feet without needing air.”

Gemma nodded, trying to understand. “Yes, I just said that. Lily is obsessed—”

“I know! That’s it. That’sit,” I repeated, more to myself than to them. “Rachel Flowersdidleave threads. We just had to find them!”

It made sense. It made total sense, but none of them understood what the heck I was going on about. It didn’t matter. I was on a roll.

I could fix one last thing before I left, tie up one last loose end.

“Junie, come on,” I said, climbing to my feet in the booth and then hopping out of it. I grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her to stand, “we need to go see a ghost about a toilet.”

THE DAFFODIL INN WAS VIBRATING WITH PEOPLE. EVERYONEwas all-hands-on-deck the moment I told Junie my revelation. And when I did, it was like something clicked in her mind, and she immediately called Will, who came over with every handyman he knew, and a tiny woman who was the town’s pest control.

Wescouredthe plumbing.

The toilets upstairs. The kitchen sinks. Wherever there was a hiccup, a strange change in water pressure, we’d follow the line down, and if my guess was correct then the nest would be—

“There,” Will said, pointing behind the haunted toilet.

The pest wrangler held up a hacksaw, and with a solemn nod she stepped toward the wall and sawed it open.

At first, there was no sign of an infestation—and then there was a hiss.

The pest control woman gave a triumphant, “A-ha!” and reached into the dark, haunted abyss with a gloved hand, like she was reaching into an oven full of molten lava. It took a moment, but when she pulled her hand back out, she had hold of something. A chunky possum with a missing eye and singed whiskers.

No one said anything for a long moment, and then Junie turned to Ruby, and put her hand on her shoulder and said in a grave, slightly broken voice, “We’ve found your possum, Ruby.”

“And it’s a girl!” the pest control woman cried, because there were at least three baby possums clinging to the big one for dear life. She turned to Ruby and added, “Mazel tov!”

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