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By noon on Monday, Rarity had worked out, finished the book for tomorrow’s club meeting, cleaned the house, and finished off her daily to-do list. Now she was looking for something else to keep her busy. She’d hung out with Sam yesterday. Shirley was unavailable. Holly was sleeping since she worked on Sunday and Monday nights. Malia was working the day shift at the Garnet.

Having two days off only worked if you had someone to do things with. She didn’t want to go to the bookstore. She wanted Katie—and Shirley, when she returned—to think of Monday as their shift. Where they made the decisions. Rarity had made a task list for the day, and she was usually available if something big happened, but other than that, they wer e on their own.

She decided to treat herself to lunch. She tucked a book in her tote, put Killer on a leash, and walked into town. Carole’s had a small outdoor patio where dogs were allowed, so she headed there. One thing this week had taught her was that she needed to be better at expanding her group of friends, even when she had a boyfriend. Because when Archer was out of the picture, she had a huge hol e in her life.

“What can I help you with?” a woman asked after setting down a glass of water and a menu. “Oh, it’s you. I’ll go grab Killer a water bowl and water wit hout any ice.”

The waitress left before Rarity could read her name tag, but the woman had recognized her. Or at least her dog. She decided to have a Cuban sandwich with potato salad and sipped her water. Killer was watching her. “You can have some of my bread if you’re good. No fries today. The vet says you’re a little chunky.”

The look she got from that statement told the whole story. Killer didn’t think he was chunky. More to the point, he thought the vet was wrong. He turned his back on her and lay down by the brick planter wall that surroun ded the patio.

A few minutes later, the waitress was back with a bowl of water and a basket of bread. Rarity smiled as Killer ran to the bowl and drank water like he’d been on a three-mile hike instead of a short stroll into town. “I swear, he drank water at home be fore we left.”

“The heat makes them thirsty all the time. Amy talked me into adopting a small dog a few months ago. She’s been good with him. She talked about Killer so much, I finally gave in.” Th e woman smiled.

“Oh, you’re Joni, Amy’s mom. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you.” Now Rarity felt like a jerk. “We love having Amy hang around the bookstore. I didn’t know she had a dog. She’s been so busy with her after-school stuff, I don’t think I’ve talked to her in weeks.”

“I know. She turned into a little social butterfly over the summer. She loves dance class and she still reads a lot. I think she goes to the bookstore on Monday afternoons. It’s her only free afternoon.” Joni nodded at a couple who had been seated by the hostess. “Sorry, I’ve got another table. What can I get you to drink? Or are you re ady to order?”

“I’m ready.” Rarity gave her the order and Joni left to greet the next customer. Killer stared at the basket of fresh rolls. “You can smell the m, can’t you?”

He barked, and the other couple looke d over at her.

“Okay, fine, but be quiet.” She broke off a piece of bread and held it out. “Sit pretty.”

Killer did what he was told and then took the bread under the table to eat. After a few more bites, Rarity brushed her hands in an all-gone gesture. “Sorry, budd y, that’s it.”

The dog glared at her, but he went to get another drink of water, then went and lay down under the table. Rarity pulled out her book and read while she waited for lunch. The Alice in Wonderland book kept popping into her mind so after a chapter, she pulled out her phone.

She needed to find the rare bookstore in Flagstaff so she could visit and talk to the owner. Jonathon had mentioned one, but no one had called her about the Alice book. Maybe there was a message at the bookstore.

When Joni brought her meal, she smiled at Rarity. “You look like you figured s omething out.”

“Kind of. At least I have something to do this afternoon.” Rarity glanced at her phone. “Have you ever heard of the Los t Manuscript?”

“It’s a bookstore in Flagstaff. It’s near where we get groceries every Sunday. Amy had been begging me to stop in, so a few weeks ago I gave in. They have a lot of used books for kids. But they’re known for dealing in rare and expensive books. I had to tell her we weren’t buying a copy of Charlotte’s Web they had on display. I think that one purchase would have wiped out her college fund.” She rubbed her neck. “Oh, yeah, the guy who owns the store mentioned that he used to live in Sedona. I think he had a bookstore here on Main Street too. Arthur Wellings. That’s his name. Make sure you talk to him. He’s a character. Full of stories ab out the area.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the information. Tell Amy I said hi.” Rarity didn’t want to keep Joni from her work. And her stomach was growling now from the smell of the pork and spices on the sandwich in front of her. Besides, Joni had verified that Arthur, the guy Jonathon had mentioned, o wned the store.

Joni touched the table, a gesture Rarity had seen Malia do as well. They were trained to do three table touches, which meant visiting the table, but some people took the instruction literally. Or, as Malia had told Rarity, the touch reminded her where she was in the s ervice process.

Rarity focused on her meal, thankful that others were conscientious about their work process as well. Somehow that comforted her. Her habit was making sure the doors were locked before she went home. Of course, she’d had some issues with the back alley behind her store. Maybe that was what had drilled in the importance of checking and do uble-checking.

After finishing lunch and leaving Joni a good tip, she and Killer headed home to grab her Mini Cooper from the garage. The gas tank was still full and as she backed out, she looked at Killer sitting in the passenger seat. “Ready for a road trip?”

Killer shook in excitement. She didn’t often take him, especially to Flagstaff because she didn’t like leaving him in the car. Especially on a hot day. But the store’s website had claimed it was pet friendly. Rarity had a pet carrier that went over her shoulder and had room for her wallet along with Killer. He could poke his head out of the top or watch through the mes h on the side.

Rarity’s work tot e was heavier.

She used the pet tote when they visited festivals and outdoor events. And it had a collapsible water dish that could attach to a clip. For what she’d paid for the bag, she probably could have bought something designer. Spoile d Pets “R” Us.

Rarity turned on the music, and Killer watched the desert pass by o ut the window.

When they arrived, the parking lot for the strip mall was quiet. Not empty, but the Thai restaurant at the end had probably already served its lunch crowd. And the workout center on the other side of the bookstore must be a morning and after-work hot spot. Rarity got a parking spot right in front of the Lost Manuscript. She bundled Killer into the bag, locked the car, then headed inside.

The bookstore was quiet and smelled like old paper. One of Rarity’s favorite smells. She wished someone would make a perfume or a candle with that scent. A bell over the door clanged to announce her entrance.

“Welcome to the Lost Manuscript. I’m in the back stocking if you need help finding anything,” a voice called out. An older man, from the sound of his tr embling voice.

“Thanks,” Rarity replied. She would spend some time familiarizing herself with the store and finding something to buy. She couldn’t visit a bookstore and not bring home something. She had a row of bookshelves in her den that were begging for more books. She’d been too busy with everything to make a plan on what she want ed to collect.

She paused at a local history section and pulled out several trail books and Arizona history texts. Archer would love these . She almost put them back, but no matter what happened between them, Archer would always be a friend. And she could give him the books for his upcoming birthday instead of the trip she’d been thinking about surprising him with to hike in the Colorado mountain s this summer.

She set the books on the checkout desk and kept looking. It might be an expensiv e day for her.

She found the children’s section and the display with rare and old books that Joni had mentioned. The shop had a copy of several Nancy Drew books from the 1930s, including three of the first four books. The price wasn’t listed, but the Charlotte’s Web that Joni had told her about had a price. And yes, it was four figures. Rarity thought she might have seen that cover in her childhood libra ry growing up.

“Are you interested in collecting?” a voice asked from her side. “ The Secret of the Old Clock is in amazing shape for its age. I got the three from an estate sale a few years ago. I could give you a de al on the set.”

She turned and saw a short man dressed in khakis and a dress shirt with short sleeves. Suspenders held up his pants. This must be Arthur Wellings. Rarity held out her hand. “I’m a bookseller as well. I’m Rarity Cole and I own the Next Chapt er in Sedona.”

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise!” He shook her hand and introduced himself. “My first store was in Sedona. Back then we didn’t get all the tourists. A lot of hippies invaded the town, looking for a place to hang out and do nothing. The park was filled with their tents. Now, I hear your police department keeps a tight rein on those types.”

Rarity didn’t know what Arthur meant by “those types,” but she gave the older man the benefit of the doubt. “I had heard you ran a bookstore there. Why did you move?”

“Flagstaff had the university. More people buy books here. It was kind of a no-brainer. The people in Sedona want to hike and find those energy spots. Not read. I hope your store is hanging in there.” Arthur adjusted a shelf that had books out of order as they talked. “It’s always something around here. People come in and look at books and don’t put them back where they belong.”

“I get that too. And yes, the store is doing well. It took some time for the townsfolk to adopt us, but we do a lot of community service projects, which help to bring people inside.” Rarity thought that maybe Arthur would like it if no one came to his store and moved around the books. “I’m always reorganizing the kids’ section. But then I get lost and start reading a book while I’m working.”

He smiled then. “A bookseller’s dilemma. We all love the product we’re selling too much. What can I help you with today? Are you looking for something specific? Or visiting a fello w bibliophile?”

“I’ve already got a stack on the counter, but I’m looking for a few books to add to my personal collection. Something like the Nancy Drew books or Charlotte’s Web , but maybe a little less expensive? I’d love a first edition of Alice in Wonderland , but that’s probably out of my price point.”

Arthur’s eyes flashed as Rarity talked. Had it been because she’d mentioned the Alice book? “Nothing by Lewis Carroll in stock, I’m afraid. Those books hold a lot of memories for so many people. But I do have a copy of The Hobbit . Not a first edition, but a lovely 1970s-era reprint that you might be interested in. Especially since you ment ioned fantasy.”

“I’d love to see it.” Rarity followed him into another area where there was a matching glass case with books. This one held several Tolkien books as well as some C.S. Lewis editions. “You have a charming selection. It must have taken you years to c ollect these.”

“A lot of people come to sell me books. Sometimes, they’re not worth anything. Those, I sell at the front of the store and rotate if they don’t sell. I give them to local shelters. Probably a lot of what you sell as new. More popular and series books. But once in a while, I get a beauty tucked in those boxes people bring to sell.” He took out the Tolkien book he’d talked about. “I visit as many estate sales as possible. You never know what you’ll find in a home library.”

As she paid for the books, she almost told him she’d think about The Hobbit . If she was going to pay that much for a book, she wanted to make sure she was getting a fair price. And before today, she hadn’t even looked at rare or out-of-print books. But she set it down on the counter and offered him less. To her surprise, he took it. Now, she worried that she had still grossly overpaid for the book. But she’d loved the story as a teen, and this was a nicely bound copy. It would look wonderful on her bookshelf.

He wrapped up the book in paper then put it and the others into a bag for her. He moved the bag toward her but held on when she reached for it. “If you think you overpaid for the book, bring it back and I’ll pay you exactly what you paid me for the book. Minus the sales ta x, of course.”

“That’s kind of you. I’ve never even considered collecting estate books. I have my keeper shelf, but I’m reading and rereading those. This one, I’m keeping safe.” She took the bag. “Thanks for your help. And if you hear about an Alice in Wonderland book, I’d love to h ear from you.”

He peered at Rarity. “Leave me your card. I’m not sure it will be anytime soon. Those types of finds are few and far between.”

Rarity pulled one of her cards out of her wallet. “You can call the bookstore and leave a message on my machine if it’s off hours. Tha nks for this.”

As she waited in the line to exit the parking lot to drive back to Sedona, a familiar-looking Jeep pulled into the strip mall’s parking lot. She met the driver’s eyes. It was Archer. In the other seat was a woman. He nodded a greeting at her and kept driving.

Rarity thought about backing up so she could talk to him, but a car pulled up behind her and honked when she didn’t quickly turn out on the street. Instead of going back to talk to Archer, she drove back to Sedona. She thought about their brief encounter. He hadn’t looked embarrassed or scared when he saw her. Instead, Rarity thought she saw sadness in his eyes. She’d let him come and explain what he was doing. Right now, as much as not seeing him hurt, she knew that he ha d his reasons.

When Rarity got home, she put the books away. The Tolkien book she set on a stand in her living room. She’d move it later, but right now, she wanted to have it handy so she could start researching its value. If she was taking it back, she wanted to do it soon. Before Arthur cha nged his mind.

She put a serving of frozen lasagna in the oven to warm up and then opened her laptop. Time to research the rare book market and see how badly sh e’d been taken.

* * *

Tuesday morning, she felt almost confident in her purchase, but she’d also sent an email with pictures to an expert in books from the university. He had a side business that gave worth estimates for books and documents. She’d talked to Katie before she’d paid the fifty-dollar assessment fee and Katie told her that the professor was well respected on campus. He’d written books on collecting rare volumes. Rarity ordered the first of his reference books through the store. Maybe she’d found a new hobby. She could go to yard sales and consignment shops to search for antique books.

The professor had already responded to her message and assured her he’d have an answer in les s than a week.

Now, she wondered what Archer and his friend had been doing at the strip mall. They could have been eating a late lunch, or early dinner. Or maybe they had been heading to the bookstore sh e’d just left.

Her life was filled with mysteries right now. And it was starting to tick her off.

She swam, then ate breakfast with Killer. She texted Terrance and asked if he’d stop in and check on Killer d uring the day.

When he texted back, Rarity sighed and looked at him. “I guess you’re coming along with me today. Uncle Terrance has a full day rewiring the nursing h ome’s system.”

She responded to Terrance’s text, thanking him for letting her know and wishing h im a nice day.

He sent the sad face emoji. Then he wrote, George is still in solitary. Shirley hates me. But yeah, I’ll ha ve a nice day.

Then he wrote back quickly. Sorry, grumpy today. Didn’t mean to take it out on you .

Rarity texted one wo rd back. Hugs .

Then she got Killer ready to go to work with her. It wasn’t Terrance’s fault he couldn’t babysit her dog. Killer was her dog, after all. And her responsibility. She’d gotten comfortable having either Archer or Terrance there to help. She was going to have to be responsible for her own situation.

But she was also feeling grumpy when she got to the shop. Maybe Terrance had passed his emotion on to her. Some kind of text virus. Or she might have read too many science fictio n books lately.

Whatever was going on, she needed to fix her attitude and quickly. Her mom would have told her to turn that frown upside down. Or fake it until you make it. Rarity thought both sayings would be needed to get thr ough this day.