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And a hat.

She did love spending time in bookstores, and A Bookstore had become a favorite stop. It calmed her nerves. At least until she brought the two books she’d selected to checkout, and they came roaring back.

“I read an advance copy of this one.” Diana tapped the top book. “Just loved it. Twisty mystery, and a swoon-worthy romance. What more could you want?”

As she started to ring up the sale, Diana glanced back. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, I’m just a little nervous. I’ve got a hair appointment. My first since moving here.”

“At Jodi’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, no worries. Jodi does my hair. Anita’s, too.”

“Did I hear my name?” Anita came in from the back with more stock.

“Sonya’s heading to Jodi’s.”

“Oh, who’s doing your hair?”

“I’m not sure.” Nerves, more nerves, balled in her stomach. “Does it matter?”

“Diana and I both go to Jodi. Jeannie goes to Carly, doesn’t she?”

“Jeannie?”

“Our weekend manager. Pretty sure she uses Carly. And Aileen—my sister, she works here part-time—she goes to Micah.”

“Who’s adorable.” Diana bagged the books. “A new salon’s scary, but you’ll be in good hands.”

With no choice but to hope that was true, and having lingered too long to stop in anywhere else to procrastinate, Sonya walked down the skinny sidewalk.

The snow that had greeted her that morning might not have fallen. Not a trace of it remained as she wandered down to the salon.

And at the door, she reminded herself it made no sense to be more fearful of a new hairdresser than she was of the entity in the Gold Room.

She went inside.

Less than two hours later, she walked out a very happy woman. She tossed her newly shaped, highlighted, and styled hair as she walked back—hatless—to where she’d parked.

Unashamed, she pulled down the vanity mirror, turned her head right, left.

“I’m back!”

As she drove through the village, she sent out loving vibes to the shops, the restaurants, the houses and apartments. And especially to the old Victorian that housed Doyle Law Offices.

A woman wasn’t truly all the way home, she thought, until she found her hairstylist.

Though she’d driven by the hotel, just to take a look, she’d yet to go in.

She knew Anna’s husband Seth’s family owned it, ran it, and from the exterior, it looked like they knew exactly what they were doing.

The snow-white brick on a rise above the bay, the sea, spoke of a mix of grand service and quiet comfort.

She saw rooms with small terraces facing the water, a circle centering the drive currently alive with daffodils and hyacinths and tulips that brought spring right back.

On the far side, she spotted paved pathways winding through gardens she imagined would burst very soon.