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stage, down the steps, and through the door that would take me to the theater lobby.
    It was so crowded there that I had a suspicion everyone who’d seen my talk was gathering to discuss it. Or discuss other things connected with Destiny and superstitions.
    Anything but leave the theater.
    Even so, I saw Justin near the exit door. My gaze was drawn to him as if he had called and I’d heard him despite the combo of people and noise. Was there some kind of superstition about that, where people who were attracted to one another somehow felt each other even in the middle of a mob? I’d have to check that out. I realized that in some ways I was being presumptuous about Justin’s feelings for me … although he’d certainly been giving that impression.
    And me? Maybe I felt some attraction and was willing to admit it to myself. But … And that was it. I still had a lot of buts.
    Still holding Pluckie so she wouldn’t get stepped on, I started making my way toward Justin, then heard Gemma’s voice off to my right. I turned and saw that she was near a wall, in the middle of a group that included Mayor Bevin, P.A. Director Lou, editor Stuart, and the heirs to the Broken Mirror Bookstore.
    As much as I’d have liked to join Justin, I realized that I needed to talk to Gemma and at least warn her about Frank being here.
    Plus, okay, I admit it. I was curious about what the town administrators were saying to the people affiliated with the bookstore that was next door to my shop.
    It took me a minute, and I had to be careful not to squeeze Pluckie too tightly or suffocate her, but I was soon beside Gemma.
    â€œHi, Rory,” she said. “Your talk was delightful!”
    â€œThanks.” I placed Pluckie gently on the floor. As I rose again, I tried to tell Gemma with my expression that I needed to talk to her.
    But she looked back toward the mayor and the public affairs guy. “We were just talking about how important all the superstition-
related stores around here are to keeping Destiny the wonderful destination that it is,” Gemma said.
    â€œAbsolutely.” Director Lou knocked on the wall, which was paneled in varnished wood. He beamed at Gemma as if she had just made the most important pronouncement possible for promoting Destiny’s future. Interesting. Was he flirting with her—after knocking on wood?
    â€œThat’s certainly true of the Broken Mirror Bookstore,” Stuart said. “My employer, The Destiny of Superstitions’ publisher, sent me here to find out how things are going in preserving the store and making sure it has a future.”
    â€œWe do need to talk about that,” said Nancy Tarzal, sister to Kenneth Tarzal who’d authored the all-important book. She was almost as tall as her brother had been, and her slim, reedy form was enhanced by a shapeless black dress that reached just to the bottom of her knees. Her stiletto shoes added to her height enough that I suspected she wore them on purpose to emphasize not only how tall she was but also how important she considered herself to be.
    â€œWe absolutely do,” seconded Edie Kunningham Brownling, mother of Preston Kunningham, and her husband Brandon Brownling nodded his agreement enthusiastically. They were both silver-haired senior citizens, a whole lot shorter and rounder than their co-owner of the store, and both were dressed in button-down shirts with the tails out over their jeans. Apparently looking dressed up wasn’t important to them, and so far I’d no idea what was. But I hoped it included the survival of the Broken Mirror.
    And the loss of their son apparently because a superstition came true? I couldn’t, wouldn’t, talk to them about it. That was not only forbidden in Destiny but was also, arguably, bad luck. They were clearly grieving, though, even as they appeared to be trying to figure out how to handle things around here.
    â€œGemma, since