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L ynda carefully arranged the last book on the new display, stepping back to assess her work.

Isabel had been given a great selection of animal books—everything from basic pet care to more specialized texts on wildlife rehabilitation and exotic animals.

Lynda had organized them by subject, making sure the books aimed at children were placed on the bottom shelf.

“That looks perfect,” Isabel said, joining her by the display. “I knew you’d make it look professional.”

“It’s a good collection,” Lynda admitted. “Although I still think most of these will gather dust. Sapphire Bay isn’t exactly overrun with aspiring veterinarians.”

Isabel shrugged, adjusting a book that had tilted sideways. “You never know. A teenager came in last week asking about wildlife rescue books. She said she wants to volunteer at a bird sanctuary when she gets to college.”

“Well, at least someone will appreciate them.” Lynda smiled, thinking of her own teen years when she’d devoured every animal book she could find. “How’s the book you’re writing coming along?”

Isabel sighed. “I have a dead body that no one can identify and a serial killer on the loose. I have to work out a way my heroine can find the killer.”

Lynda grinned. “If you need a brainstorming session, Kathleen and I have great imaginations.”

“I might have to take you up on that. Frank had some ideas, but they wouldn’t work with the rest of my plot.”

“Let us know when you want to meet,” Lynda told her friend as they moved to the front counter. “I’ve enjoyed reading the chapters you’ve finished.”

Isabel handed Lynda a box of bookmarks. “Sometimes, your feedback is the only thing that keeps me writing.”

Lynda unpacked the bookmarks and placed them on the counter. Isabel was a talented writer. Providing a little support and encouragement was the least she could do.

“What’s happening at the animal shelter?” Isabel asked. “Carol said you’ve been working a lot of extra hours.”

Lynda nodded. “They’re so short-staffed. It doesn’t help that there’s been an increase in the number of abandoned pets in the area. I helped Matt with a scared border collie this morning. Someone found him wandering near the highway.”

Isabel leaned against the counter. “Has Robert called again? About the practice in Denver?”

“He called yesterday,” Lynda admitted. “They’ve had a busy week. One of the vet techs quit, and they’re struggling to find a replacement.”

“So when are you going back to check on things?”

Lynda hesitated. “I should go soon. Just for a few days to help Robert sort out the staffing issues.”

“But you don’t want to,” Isabel guessed, studying her friend’s face.

Lynda sighed. “Even though I’m living here, I’m still responsible for the clinic. If there’s a staffing issue, I need to fix it. Robert’s awesome, but he’s swamped.”

Isabel smiled. “The Lynda Morth I remember from our teenage years would have said, ‘Responsibility is just grown-ups trying to stop you from having fun.’”

“The Lynda Morth from our teenage years thought leg warmers were high fashion and New Kids on the Block was classic music,” Lynda replied dryly. “Not exactly a paragon of wisdom.”

They both laughed, and Lynda felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. That was what she loved about being with her old friends—the easy way they could move from serious to silly and back again.

“Speaking of responsibilities,” Lynda said, “how are things going with Frank and Tommy? The last time I saw them, Tommy was talking about joining the junior fishing tournament.”

Isabel’s face softened at the mention of Frank and his grandson. “They’re wonderful. Tommy has entered the tournament, and Frank’s been taking him to the dock to give him fishing tips. And Frank...” She paused, a smile playing at her lips. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

Lynda nodded. She’d seen the way Frank looked at Isabel when he thought no one was watching him. It was sweet and kind, and everything her friend needed. “I’m happy for you,” she said, meaning it. After Isabel lost her husband, she deserved this second chance at happiness.

“It’s not always easy,” Isabel admitted. “We both have our baggage. But we’re figuring it out together.” She gave Lynda a pointed look. “Some baggage is worth unpacking.”

“Subtle,” Lynda said with a snort.

“I’m not talking about anyone in particular,” Isabel clarified, though her expression suggested otherwise. “I’m talking about you holding onto the past so tightly it’s stopping you from moving forward.”

The comment hit closer to home than Lynda wanted to admit. Instead of dwelling on the past, she busied herself with unwrapping more books.

“Ray destroyed your faith in people,” Isabel continued gently. “But not all men are like him.”

A customer walked in. It gave Lynda a moment to collect herself as Isabel greeted them warmly and directed them to the mystery section. When Isabel returned, Lynda had composed herself.

“It’s not just about Ray,” she said quietly.

But it was, at least partly. The memory of his betrayal made her stomach knot.

She’d walked into her home office to grab a file, and Ray’s phone had flashed with a text someone had sent.

Usually, she wouldn’t have looked at it, but the preview wasn’t something she could ignore.

Miss you already. Last night was amazing.

When she’d unlocked Ray’s phone with his password, she found hundreds of texts between him and Melissa, his twenty-nine-year-old receptionist. When he arrived home, the confrontation that followed had upset Lynda more than seeing the evidence of his affair.

His half-hearted denials had quickly crumbled, followed by the worst admission of all—he wasn’t sorry.

He’d fallen in love with Melissa. He wanted to start a new life with her. Maybe even have children together.

Thirty years of marriage had ended in a single afternoon.

“Lynda?” Isabel’s voice pulled her back to the present. “What are you thinking about?”

Lynda shook her head. “Just remembering the day it all fell apart.”

Isabel squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s okay.” Lynda managed a small smile. “It was ten years ago. Ancient history.”

“But it still hurts.”

“Sometimes,” Lynda admitted. “Not because I miss Ray. I haven’t missed him since Amy had her first baby.

But because of what it did to how I interact with people.

” She placed her hands on the book she’d been unwrapping.

“I didn’t see it coming, Isabel. Not a clue.

We had dinner together every night. We went on vacations and had the occasional dinner with our friends.

I thought we were happy.” She shook her head.

“How do you trust your own judgment after something like that?”

Isabel was quiet for a moment. “James and I had our rough patches,” she said finally. “No marriage is perfect. But there was always honesty between us, even when it hurt.” She met Lynda’s eyes. “Just keep reminding yourself that not all men are like Ray,” she repeated softly.

“I know that,” Lynda said. “Logically, I know that. But logic has nothing to do with it.”

“So, tell me about Matt Reynolds. Is he just a colleague?” Isabel asked.

Lynda hesitated. “He’s... I don’t know. He’s kind. Good with animals. Funny in that quiet way that sneaks up on you.” She looked out the window, watching Main Street come to life as more shops opened. “But he’s also still in love with his late wife.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He doesn’t have to. You can see it in the way he talks about her. She’s been gone fifteen years, and he still wears his wedding ring.”

Isabel nodded thoughtfully. “Grief is complicated. But it doesn’t mean that there isn’t room in his heart for someone new.”

The bell above the door chimed as another customer entered the bookstore.

Lynda was grateful for the interruption.

She liked Matt. More than she wanted to admit.

This morning, when they’d been sitting on the floor with the border collie, she’d felt something she hadn’t experienced in years—a connection that went beyond professional respect.

And it terrified her.

“All I’m saying,” Isabel continued when the customer was browsing out of earshot, “is that maybe it’s time to unpack some of your baggage. See what’s still worth carrying and what you can leave behind.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lynda promised, more to end the conversation than anything else.

But as they went about their morning tasks—shelving new arrivals, helping customers find the perfect book, preparing for the afternoon book club meeting—Lynda found herself turning Isabel’s words over in her mind.

Had she been using Ray’s betrayal as an excuse to keep people at a distance? Was she truly protecting herself, or was she just hiding? And even if she was ready to open her heart again—a big if—was Matt Reynolds the right person to take a chance on?

She didn’t have answers to any of these questions. But for the first time in years, she was at least willing to ask them.

That, she supposed, was some kind of progress.