Page 3 of Love By the Book
"No, he's not here." Alex chuckles. "He could be one of your first clients."
"Oh my gosh, no. Of all the bad ideas that have ever existed in the history of bad ideas, that one is the worst."
She rolls her eyes then swoops in to catch a teetering jarbefore it hits the ground and hands it back to its wide-eyed owner with a reassuring nod. She turns back to me. "Dean’s single. And I don't think he's as bad as he seems."
"A glowing recommendation from a food critic."
"He's not food."
"Nor datable. So he's out of the discussion."
She huffs and gives her coffee cup a shake. "Tom, then."
"Tom is like me, allergic to romance."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means we grew up in a small town where everyone knows your grandmother's name and you can only miss in relationships so many times before you strike out and decide to take up bird watching and afghan knitting instead."
"You hated both of those."
"Right. But think of the tragedy if I'd dated someone and never even tried them. It could have been the love of my life."
"The person you dated?"
"The hobbies, Alex, stay with me."
She snorts and I grin, letting the moment pass with a joke, as always. It’s easier than explaining how the idea of loving someone that deeply—and watching them walk away when things get too hard—makes my chest feel too tight. It’s easier to play matchmaker than risk being the one who falls, who reveals too much, who ends up alone.
In the distance, Karl appears to be saying something to Robert, gesturing toward the far end of the market. A moment later, he falls into step beside Brooke, the two of them walking away together, laughing in the summer sunshine like they’ve known each other for years. I slap my notebook shut, already mentally designing flyers—pink ones, with glitter. I could even do this as an extra extension of library services. My boss loves anything that sounds community-driven and vaguely morale-boosting. I’ll need a system fortracking potential matches. And maybe a logo, too, something with hearts and books…
"Miss Wilder!" Jamie's panicked voice breaks through my plotting. "The potions are EXPLODING!"
I turn to see a geyser of pink slime erupting from what was supposed to be a sensible craft project. Three children are covered head-to-toe in sparkles, and the rest are gleefully adding more ingredients to the bubbling concoctions.
Alex steps back with the reflexes of someone who’s witnessed one too many glitter-related incidents in my presence. "And on that note, I'm going to check on Ethan. Good luck with... everything." She gestures vaguely at the growing chaos.
I roll up my sleeves, grinning despite the impending mess. If I can handle this, I can definitely handle a little matchmaking.
After all, what could possibly go wrong?
Well… aside from the glitter, the slime, and the magical energy fizzing around the edges of the craft table. If I don’t get this under control, Dean is definitely going to show up to ‘handle’ it—and I really don’t need a visit from Mr. Rules and Regulations right now. Especially not with that judgy eyebrow thing he does.
"Coming, Lily! Just don't add any more—" A jar makes a concerning gurgling sound. "Oh sweet honey candy, did someone add baking soda to the moonlight essence?"
As I wade into the craft disaster, I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement. I'm practically made for this new plan: reading energies, creating connections, bringing a little magic to the people of the island.
Watch out, Magnolia Cove. Cupid’s got nothing on this witch with a mission. Let the matchmaking begin!
And if my heart stays safely on the sidelines? Well, youcan’t get hurt if you’re just the one holding the bows and arrows, right? No one leaves the matchmaker.
Eli
"Youmovedto—" My sister's voice cuts in and out, the static crackling through my phone speaker. "—Magnolia Cove?" The connection stabilizes just enough for me to hear her pitch up several notches. "Tell me it's a lie."
I'm actually surprised my phone is working at all. The locals had warned me that Magnolia Cove is notorious for having terrible cell service—something about the island's unique geography or, as one cryptic shopkeeper suggested, "the veil being too thick here." Whatever that means. Magical pocket communities use wards to keep their secrets hidden from non-magical eyes—but even for someone like me, who knows how that works, the way the locals discuss magic feels… different. Magnolia Cove plays by its own rules.
"It's true." I step carefully around a flower planter on the cobblestone walkway, lifting my phone higher as if those extra few inches might improve the connection. My gaze fixes on the small café ahead as I walk.Sinclair's Sips & Savoriesgleams in the mid-morning sun, its sleek steel and glass behind its windows looking almost comically metropolitan against thequaint charm of the island's main street. An interesting location for a meeting.
