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“If the wing-tip shoe fits, then yes. This is your first assignment from Lilly Aster? Even better. You can tell me all about your meeting as we boat out to the beach. We can’t clam.

There’s a biotoxin warning. The pollution’s pretty bad now.

But I’m going over to the coast to get some razor clams this fall.

You can ride along then if you’re still here.

” He handed her the same one-hundred-dollar bill that she’d given him the day of the move.

She smiled as she gave him change and put the book and receipt into a bag. “I guess we can go. Watson did okay on the ferry. It was his first boat ride.”

“The ferry’s a lot bigger than my little scooter. But we’ll keep him safe.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll pick you up at six, and we can grab dinner first. Bring a jacket.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you getting me out. This afternoon, I told Ms. Aster I was almost homebound.” Meg saw her mom come out of the back room, where Meg knew she’d been eavesdropping.

“Well, I do what I can.” He nodded to the back door. “Thanks for letting me wait, Mrs. Gates. See you at six, squirt.” He turned and headed across the room.

“I’m assuming that comment was aimed at Watson,” Meg called after him.

“Think what you want,” Dalton said as he left through the front door.

Mom came around the counter and wrote down the name of the book Dalton had purchased and the author in a notebook.

It was her ordering system. When a book went out, she would put it on the list, and then when she made an order, she would decide if she wanted to keep it in stock.

Reviewing the order notebook was one of Meg’s Thursday night tasks.

“Are you ready to date so soon? Maybe Romain will come to his senses and you two can get past this.”

Meg closed her eyes. When she opened them, she wasn’t seeing red anymore.

Her mom meant well. “One, Romain cheated and then spent our honeymoon with Rachel. Two, there is no going back. Which reminds me, I need to drop off wedding gifts to the neighbors. If they ask, I’ll be over tomorrow, and I apologize for the delay as I get my life together. ”

“And go on a date,” Mom sniffed.

“We’re leaving now. I’ll see you Thursday at three.” Meg hooked Watson’s leash on his collar and left the bookstore. Sometimes her mom could be exasperating. As she walked the few blocks to her aunt’s house, she thought about Dalton’s offer. He clearly hadn’t asked her on a date, right?

Well, she’d clear that up as soon as he arrived at her apartment. The one thing Meg Gates didn’t need in her life, messing up her four-, well, maybe five-year plan, was a man.

When they got back to the apartment, she put her bike, which she had leaned against the wall earlier, inside the garage, next to her Civic.

She should have sold the car before leaving Seattle, but she might need it when she went back to school.

The campus was too far to bike, and she didn’t want to figure out a bus schedule.

She and Watson climbed the stairs and went into her apartment.

Meg read the paperwork that Lilly had given her and signed the papers.

She made copies and then put them in a neat pile on her desk.

She needed to order some office supplies, so she went online and did that as well as updated her address on her Amazon account.

Thank goodness she hadn’t started merging her accounts with Romain’s.

It would make this breakup even more distressing.

Thinking about the things she needed to do, she took out her planner and started writing them down.

First up, kill Romain. She looked at the sentence, then crossed it out. If her mom or aunt saw that, they’d totally freak. But it felt good to let the negative feelings out. She felt a smile tugging at her lips. Besides, she hadn’t written out an actual plan to do him in.

Now for the real list. File a change of address.

Update my address on all of my bank accounts.

As she thought about all the financial housekeeping things she needed to do, she remembered that she needed to deal with the 401(k) she’d started with her former employer.

She had been going to take the money out and plan a six-month second honeymoon as a surprise, but now she thought maybe she should roll it into an IRA before the start-up tried to pull back some of the funds. If they could even do that.

Now that she was freaking out about that possibility, she went to the account holder and opened a new account with the financial company. Thankfully, it was a big one. Then she closed out her employee account and sent the funds to the new account.

One crisis averted. She got up and grabbed the last soda out of the fridge. “Okay, maybe I need to add Go grocery shopping to my list.”

Watson looked up from where he’d been sleeping on the old couch that had come with the apartment.

Meg had thrown an old quilt over the leather to make sure Watson didn’t destroy it.

But she was missing her old furniture. The pre-Romain stuff she’d sold.

She started a grocery list and added a newspaper to the list. This weekend was yard sale day.

Thinking about all the possible finds made her smile.

She scanned her planner. It had been a productive day.

After losing her job, some days it had been hard just getting out of bed.

The wedding planning had helped, but now she was rebuilding her life.

She was gainfully employed, even if she had had to cobble two jobs together for full-time hours.

She wasn’t living on the street. With family, yes, but not on the street. And she had a list. Lists were good.

Returning to her desk, she pulled the folder from Lilly Aster over to her and wrote down the time on the front.

Someone, probably Jolene, had written in ink on the front of the folder, Keep track of your hours here, including your travel time out here to meet Ms. Aster .

She’d even given an example. Meg glanced at her planner and tried to estimate when she’d arrived back in town to pick up Watson.

She wrote the information down. Then, after checking to see if she still had an hour or so to work before Dalton arrived, she wrote down the current time.

Then she started playing with the list of words Lilly had given her. The first ten synonyms for the first word came easy, so she dropped down to the next word before digging into a thesaurus. She’d worked on half of the words before she realized she needed to get ready for the non-date.

Hanging out at the beach meant possibly getting wet, so she didn’t want to wear her best jeans. Dalton had told her to dress warmly, so she went digging through her suitcases to find the right outfit. Layers, they worked every time.

Before they went to the marina, Dalton took her to a fish and chips restaurant, and they sat at an outdoor table, looking out at the sound. She sprinkled malt vinegar and salt on her basket of fish, fries, and a bit of minty mushy peas. “I forgot how pretty it is here.”

“Seattle’s nice, if you like concrete and brick. The island is more pastoral, don’t you think?” He met her gaze.

She laughed at his description. “Pastoral’s more country. Like farmland? This is rural, yes, but forested and set more on the water. Everything is about island life. If it was on the coast, you could use #saltlife on social media.”

“So the author hired the right person to edit her books.” He picked up a fry. “I was trying out a word I read in a book last week. I guess I got it wrong.”

“No worries. I’m not her editor. Or even a beta reader. I’m a researcher, I guess. However, right now, I think she’s testing me with busy work. I feel like I’m back in Mrs. Scott’s sixth-grade class, doing the dictionary search. Remember that assignment?”

“No, because I never finished my real assignment. You were always doing extra credit. She made up things to keep you busy.” His gaze met hers. “You were always years ahead of the rest of your class.”

“And look how far that got me.” Meg held up her hand. “No, I don’t want to go through a list of my failures, at least not tonight. Who’s going to be at the bonfire? Anyone I know?”

He considered her statement, then nodded. “A few from school. Several new guys who think saving the island from newcomers is their personal life mission.”

“But you said they were new, as well,” Meg said as she finished her fish and handed Watson one fry since he’d been quiet while they ate. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“They aren’t rich. So, therefore, they think they’re one of us. Mostly they’re jerks. Maybe don’t talk about working for Ms. Aster. I’ve heard them rag on her and her house before. Everyone hates the rich until they become wealthy.”

As they left the restaurant and headed to the marina to take Dalton’s fishing boat out to the beach, Meg wondered how much Bainbridge Island had changed since she’d left to live in Seattle.