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met Leona’s triumphant one. “But at least you’re getting a box of truffles out of it.”
    “Truffles? I don’t need truffles.”
    “Oh yes you do.” Tori shot a gentle elbow into Milo’s side before turning to her friend who was fairly tiptoeing toward the door in an effort to escape. “And as for you, Mizz Elkin . . . we will pick up where we left off. Soon.”
    “Of course, dear. I can hardly wait.” Leona grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled, the sounds of crickets and katydids filling the tiny cottage. “I’ll see you both at the festival, yes?”
    Tori looked at Milo for confirmation just as his arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her close, an unexpected public display of affection that sparked a surge of warmth through her body. Grinning, she looked back at Leona and nodded. “We’ll be there.”
    “Perhaps I’ll pack some earplugs.”
    Tori looked a question at the woman—the same question Milo spoke. “For the fireworks?”
    “I was thinking more along the lines of Rose’s incessant town cheerleading. It gets worse on Re-Founder’s Day.” Leona stepped onto the porch and looked around, the slight nod of approval at Tori’s new wicker furniture barely discernable in the gathering dusk that seemed to envelop their surroundings in mere minutes. “Though I suppose they’ll be useful for fireworks as well.”
    “I love fireworks,” Tori offered as she peered up at Milo, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in anticipation of both the movie night ahead and the Re-Founder’s Day Festival on Sunday. “Especially the ones that look like fairy dust when they’re raining down.”
    “I was kinda surprised to hear they were doing them at all. Everyone’s super paranoid about fire around here . . . even after all this time. But I ran into Colby Calhoun as he was leaving the newspaper office this afternoon and he said the fireworks on Sunday were going to be huge.”
    “Oooo, yay,” Tori said with a squeal. “The bigger the better.”
    “Was he okay?” Leona asked quickly.
    “Who?”
    “Colby.” Leona shifted her clutch to the other hand and peered over her glasses at Milo. “He seemed rather concerned when we saw him in the library on Wednesday morning. And then today, at the bakery, Debbie wasn’t her usual bubbly self either.”
    Milo shrugged. “Can’t comment on Debbie but Colby seemed fine to me. At the time, anyway. Though, now that you mention it, he did seem a little . . . I don’t know . . . edgy, I guess. And he didn’t ask about school getting ready to start up soon like he normally would . . .” Milo’s voice trailed off briefly. “I don’t know, maybe he’s working through the plot for his latest novel. I’ve always heard writers can get a little distracted when they’re at that stage.”
    “Colby wasn’t just distracted on Wednesday. He was worried . . . scared, even.” Leona raised her hand in farewell only to return it to her side just as quickly. “Something is off with Colby Calhoun—you mark my words. That man is rattled to the core about something. And for a man that good-natured and that calm to get rattled . . . well, I think it’s safe to say that whatever is brewing is big. Very, very big.”

Chapter 3

    There was no doubt about it, there were simply days she missed living in Chicago. Missed the sound of the El in the distance and the general hustle and bustle of the city streets. Missed lounging outside Millennium Park on the first warm day of spring or daydreaming her way down Michigan Avenue on a snowy day. Missed the first bite of an Italian beef sandwich and the smell of the city’s infamous stuffed pizza around virtually every street corner.
    But there was also no denying the fact that Sweet Briar felt more and more like home every day. Her job at the library was fulfilling, her ever-deepening bonds with the sewing circle members brought a welcome sense of inclusion that extended well beyond the confines of their weekly Monday