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Considering the flow of the letters on the inside of the covers, I had a feeling they belonged to a woman as well, but it was honestly just a hunch.

With no one to claim the journals and no safe place for me to keep them, I locked up the shop, then packed up the journals and took them home. They’d be safe for now, but I also knew I couldn’t cart them around forever.

One more day. Two at most.

I’d give it a week. If the owner didn’t show by then, I’d have no choice but to break them down. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.

Chapter Two

“Let me get this straight. You brought them home, but you haven’t read them yet?”

My sister would’ve been the type of person to read well past the front cover, so I wasn’t surprised when she wanted to know more about them.

“It isn’t any of my business,” I told her as I settled down for dinner. And it isn’t any of yours, either. I kept the last bit to myself as it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.

“But you brought them home,” she reminded me, drawing the words out. “You wouldn’t do that unless you wanted to look at them yourself.”

“Or I’m trying to keep them safe.”

“From what?” she laughed. “Dust? Come on, you know you want to look.”

“You’re getting us mixed up again,” I said, only half-listening as I worked on dinner, making sure to keep the journals far out of reach as to not damage them.

“You are one of the strangest people I’ve ever known.”

“And that’s what makes me special. Look, even if I don’t know the author, that doesn’t mean I’d feel good reading their personal thoughts. Because they are personal, Bridget. It wouldn’t be right.”

“But lugging them around in your car is okay?” She didn’t sound convinced, and to be honest, neither was I.

I insisted it was so I could keep them safe, but temptation is a cruel mistress and not something I can hold out against for very long. “There are only two used bookstores in town,” I said matter-of-factly. “Someone has to come by for them soon, I just know it.”

“And you’re afraid of upsetting what? A future customer?”

I imagined Bridget shaking her head at me. “If they dumped

off a bunch of books after closing, then I’m pretty sure physical books aren’t their thing.”

“Or they just work late.” I’d probably have to wait until the weekend to know for sure.

“And what happens if no one picks them up in a few weeks? Will you keep them then?”

Of course not. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

“Doing the right thing is boring. Have a little fun. Just because you read them, that doesn’t mean the owner has to know.”

“That’s like saying it’s okay to take a twenty out of the register and put it back later.”

“Dad was fine with it,” she bit back, “and that was almost twelve years ago.”

“After you told him it was to get something for Mom,” I reminded her. “Which totally wasn’t what you planned to do.”

No, the twenty was so she could treat her new secret boyfriend to a dinner she couldn’t afford. Even after all these years, she still acted like a sixteen-year-old.

“Good night, Evie.” It was the same thing my sister said when she didn’t want to talk. Usually, I egged her on and got her to open up, but I wasn’t in the mood.

Once we hung up and I sat down for dinner, I looked back on the day’s events. Aside from a handful of sales and the journals, the day had been pretty lackluster. Of course, going from a shop that’s almost in debt to an apartment that’s only big enough from one person wasn’t any better.

“This is no way to live,” I said with a sigh, repeating something my sister had said a million times before.