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The next day, Mrs. Hudson was the guest of honor at an early afternoon tea at the Fiddler’s Folly tree house before the summer stroll kicked off. Tempest, her dad and grandparents, her three best friends, Enid, and Abra the rabbit were all there with her.

Ash doted on Mrs. Hudson for saving his granddaughter and her friends and said he was going to name a new recipe for blackberry-lemon muffins after her—Martha’s Muffins, which added Mrs. Hudson’s preference for lemons to his existing corn bread muffin recipe. Morag painted a thank-you card for Mrs. Hudson that showed the fearless former librarian on a pedestal of books. And Darius had insisted that he’d cover any magical home renovations she wanted, free of charge.

“I didn’t want to resort to violence,” Mrs. Hudson said for the fourth time as Ash plied her with yet another cup of tea and more pastries.

She’d seen a sliver of light at Gray House when something had woken her in the night, so she’d crept in through the back door that Cameron had left unlocked for his getaway. She ran back to her house to call the police, but returned because she was worried Cameron was about to do something desperate.

“He only has a small bump on his head,” Tempest said. “He didn’t even need to stay overnight at the hospital before being released into police custody.”

Her phone buzzed, and she smiled as she saw a text from Detective Blackburn.

“Blackburn is releasing the Gray House crime scene,” she told them. “We’re free to move forward with the escape room game and mystery play starting with tonight’s opening.”

“Do you think Kira will be able to act in it?” Sanjay asked. He’d already said he was willing to take over Lucas’s role in the murder mystery play for the weekend, since they were evening shows that didn’t conflict with his afternoon magic performances in the courtyard of the Hidden Bookshop and Hidden Wine Bar. But he swore he was never doing anyone a favor ever again.

“Kira is cooperating with police for her role in tampering with evidence,” Tempest said, “so she was charged, but Milton is securing her bail right now. As long as she’s out, Milton said they’d be there.”

“Have you thought more about what we talked about this morning?” Enid asked Mrs. Hudson.

“What did you two talk about?” Sanjay looked from Enid to Mrs. Hudson.

“I think you should do it,” Tempest said.

“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Sanjay asked. “Nobody tells me anything around here.”

Ash chuckled. “You were at home sleeping while I made everyone breakfast this morning.”

“Of course I was sleeping,” Sanjay said. “We didn’t leave the police station until almost four o’clock in the morning. How was I supposed to know breakfast was a let’s-discuss-important-plans meal?”

“Ahmed reviewed the documents,” Ash said. “There will be a short delay to get it set up legally, but there’s no reason the plan won’t work.”

“Who’s Ahmed?” Sanjay asked.

“The lawyer in Ash’s magic Rolodex who handled Harold’s will and trust,” Tempest said.

“Harold didn’t anticipate Cameron going to prison,” Ash said, “but the documents did specify what would happen to the house and library if Cameron were to die or be otherwise indisposed, so there’s a way forward that involves the library being owned by the city while being overseen by Enid.”

“But I thought Enid didn’t want to take it on,” Sanjay said.

“I don’t,” Enid said. “But I can remain legally in charge while someone else runs the day-to-day operations. Someone who’d be the perfect person, much more so than I ever was.”

Mrs. Hudson smiled. “I’m glad it worked out, in the end.”

“You’re taking over the library?” Sanjay gaped at her.

“I’m so sorry I made a muddle of things by thinking Harold was still alive,” Mrs. Hudson said. “He just loved mysteries like that so much that when strange things started happening and we heard his voice, it seemed like exactly the type of thing he could have done. I didn’t want to believe he’d died before the two of us had gotten past our feud.”

“But you’re the main person rallying against the library,” Sanjay insisted.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I was angry because Harold had once entrusted his books to me, years ago, when he had a health scare. His first heart attack. That was back when I was working as a librarian. A few years later, shortly after I turned fifty, I retired early from my job as a librarian. I hated to do it, but it was important for me to spend every precious moment with my husband as he was battling cancer. Harold was horrified that I chose my husband over books, so he said he’d find someone else who’d properly care for his books. I was bitter that he found someone else to run his library because I know that people are more important than books. I made a poor decision because of that, but I stopped pushing for signatures almost as soon as I started—and I never even signed it myself. I only wanted to make a point to Harold.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Tempest. “I’d be bitter in that situation.”

“It’s not that I wanted to stay retired,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I cared for my husband for several years before he died, but by that time, the world had moved on and forgotten about me. Nobody would hire me. I didn’t want to be a library volunteer working at the whim of someone with a fraction of my experience. I wanted to contribute using my expertise.”

“Which you can do here at the Gray House Library of Classic Detective Fiction,” Tempest said.

“Which is a mouthful,” Mrs. Hudson added, “so I think we’ll be calling it the Gray House Library as a nice abbreviation.”

“ We? ” Sanjay asked.

“I’d like Ivy to be the assistant librarian.” She smiled at Ivy.

“Really?” Ivy smiled over the rim of her mug.

“And I do hope that the apartment on the top floor that Harold put so much work into won’t go to waste,” Mrs. Hudson added. “I know it wasn’t what Harold wanted, but Tempest tells me you’re currently apartment-hunting, so…”

“Yes!” Ivy’s tea sloshed over the edge of her mug as she set it down and rushed over to give Mrs. Hudson a hug. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”

Mrs. Hudson hugged her back and said, “You might as well call me Martha. But not at work. Since Harold had a collection of Sherlock Holmes works, and I have even more to contribute, our patrons should call me Mrs. Hudson.”

“That’s perfect,” Ivy said.

“But one last thing,” Mrs. Hudson added. “I know you want to apply for your master’s of library and information science. Your employment will be contingent upon making time to apply.”

Tempest’s phone pinged. “Kira’s out on bail. She and Milton are in for tonight.” She stood. “So if everyone has had their fill of my grandfather’s treats, we’ve got work to do.”

Tempest was worried that people wouldn’t come to Gray House after what had happened there, but even in a cozy town like Hidden Creek, the allure of a true crime made the events at Gray House even more in demand.

The escape room and the murder mystery play sold out quickly, so they added additional shows throughout the weekend to accommodate the growing demand. Both the play and the escape room were wildly successful, and the weekend summer stroll was a huge hit for all the small businesses that participated.

It was now early Sunday morning, with one more day to go, but Tempest and her three best friends had gathered at Fiddler’s Folly to take Gideon to the airport together before they had to be back at the Gray House Library.

“You didn’t all have to come to see me off,” Gideon said, but he was smiling as he did so.

“Of course we did,” Ivy said.

“I’ll only be gone for three months, you know.”

“But it’s the end of an era,” Tempest said as they piled Gideon’s luggage into the back of her jeep. “My dad and I are figuring out what’s next for Secret Staircase Construction, and I know you’ll be back, but our lives will never return to being exactly like they were.”

“You’re always welcome to come back to the team if you’d like to,” Darius said, “but there’s no expectation that you do.”

“You’re all living your dreams,” Morag said.

“Which is exactly how it should be,” Ash added.

“Even shilling for the bookshop’s wine bar hasn’t been that bad,” Sanjay said. “I mean, it taught me that I’ll always read contracts carefully, but I’m glad it turns out both that the wine is pretty good and that they’re doing some good for the world by giving ten percent of their proceeds to a literacy charity. And after this weekend, I’ll get back to planning my next show.”

Ash handed Gideon a paper bag of homemade food for the long flight. “Better than airplane food,” he insisted.

Gideon accepted the bag with his left hand. In his right, he held a small sheet of thick paper. “This is for you,” he said as he handed it to Tempest.

“A sketch of your dragon-mouth mantelpiece?” She ran her fingers over the beautiful graphite rendering of the stone dragon opening its mouth around a fireplace.

“The stone dragon itself ,” he said. “I thought it would fit perfectly in the house you’re building. If you like it, I want you to have it.”

Tempest Raj didn’t usually find herself speechless, but here she was, unable to form words. Gideon was right. The dragon mantelpiece would fit perfectly with the stone walls and cozy gothic vibe she was going for. And the fact that Gideon had carved it made it even more special. But it must have taken him months to make. She couldn’t possibly accept the gift.

“She’d love it!” Ivy squeaked. “You’d love it, right?”

“I would.” Tempest grinned at Gideon. “But it’s too big a gift—”

“It’s settled,” he said. “Now we should probably get going so I don’t miss my flight.”

“I’m surprised Abra isn’t going with you to the airport to see Gideon off,” Darius said.

“I suggested it,” Ivy said with a smile, but that smile wasn’t as bright as it had been before she’d learned Cameron was a killer. “But between all of us and Gideon’s luggage, there wasn’t room for Abra’s travel hutch.”

“It’s a good thing a certain bunny is car-trained.” Tempest jogged over to where she’d hidden the hutch, lifted Abra into Ivy’s arms, then pulled her friend close for a human hug.

“I was really falling for him,” Ivy whispered only loud enough for Tempest to hear.

Tempest knew what it was like to be wrong about someone she cared about. “It’ll get better,” she whispered back. “I promise.”

Because it would. There was a lot of hard work ahead of all of them, but her grandparents were right. They were all living their dreams now, exactly as they should be.

Tempest couldn’t contain her broad smile as she looked at her beloved friends and family. “Time to get on the road.”