"Sounds like a story there."

The bells jingled as several more customers came in. Finn was doing a great job keeping up. I mentally patted myself on the back. "One tale of woe a day is enough. Now tell me how those cookies have led you to distraction."

"My mother," he said, shaking his head.

Ah. Our tales of woe might not be so dissimilar. "My mom died when I was young, too. It's . . . You just never get over it."

"That's the thing, Darcy," he said. "I don't know whether she's alive or dead. She left when I was young, and I haven't seen her since."

"That's terrible," I said.

"Sometimes it's easier to go into denial, you know? Push the thoughts away. Then something happens like eating cookies that tasted like her cookies and the floodgate opens. Where is she? What's she doing? Does she have other kids?"

"I'm sorry," I said. I couldn't imagine what that was like, living that way.

"Thanks," he said. "I just wish I knew where she was. Peace of mind, you know?"

My nerves jumped, and I accidentally dropped my napkin. As I bent to retrieve it, I mouthed the wish spell, blinking twice to cast it. As I sat up, I said, "Have you thought about hiring a PI?"

"I did, once. He couldn't find anything."

I didn't know what to say, but I kept careful watch on his face to see if the knowledge of where his mother was suddenly popped into his head. If it had, he had a good poker face. He wasn't giving me a thing.

"See?" he said. "A tale of woe."

"Definitely woeful."

"It's part of the reason I chose my job," he said. "I travel. A lot. I'm always hoping to catch a glimpse of her somewhere."

"Well, I hope you do someday."

"Me, too." He tossed his napkin on the table. "But for now, I should get going before I eat the bakery out of business."

"Evan wouldn't mind," I said.

Scott looked back toward the kitchen. "Since you've been so kind to me, I'll play along with your matchmaking effort and promise I'll ask Evan out. I'm not really in the market for a relationship, but getting coffee or lunch will be a nice change of pace. As long as he doesn't ask me to be on TV, too."

My jaw dropped yet again. "You knew?"

Laughing, he said, "You weren't very subtle. And it's part of my job to read people, remember?"

"I will from now on."

"I'll keep an eye out for Missy," he said, heading to the door. Giving me a nod, he walked out.

He wasn't gone but thirty seconds before Evan was at my side. "Well?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," I said, gathering up my plate. "But I'm hopeful you're going to at least get a coffee date out of this. After that, it's up to you."

Evan's smile lit him from inside out. "I owe you big-time."

"Yes, you do."

He rolled his eyes, kissed my cheek, and went back to the kitchen. As I headed out, I said, "Bye, Finn!"

He said, "Have a good one, Darcy."

"You, too."

I hoped Finn wasn't as good at reading people as Scott. Because if he found that I'd used him, I didn't think that would go over so well.

At all.

Chapter Nineteen.

I was on my way to the library when my cell phone rang. Cherise.

"The eagle lands at noon," she said, then hung up.

Dodging a lamppost as I tucked my phone back into my bag, I could only shake my head. Cherise was taking this sidekick thing very seriously.

I was passing Lotions and Potions when I peeked in and saw Vince at the register. Wearing a neck collar. He glanced up and waved.

Pulling open the door, I stuck my head in.

"Stylish, no?" he asked, striking a model's pose.

"Did you have another accident?"

"No. Cherise gave me this to wear for a few days. I think she took pity on me and is trying to buy me some time before I give Starla another driving lesson."

That sounded like Cherise. "Milk it for all its worth."

As I ducked back out, he smiled and said, "I plan to."

It was a quick walk from Lotions to the library. I wanted to finish going through the Toil files, and I also wanted to see if I could locate an obituary for my mother. I'd thought of doing so last night when I was here, but after talking with Scott, I wanted to see it more than ever. Even though I knew what had happened to my mom, there was still so much I didn't know.

Floodgates, as Scott had said.

On the green, most of the Roving Stones tents had been set up, and my gaze zeroed in on one in particular. The Upala tent-it belonged to Andreus. He was unpacking a storage container when he suddenly looked up and turned his head my way.

For a second, I was caught in his stare, but then I got a grip on myself. I gave him a finger wave and kept going. So, okay, I was walking a little faster than normal, but I blamed that on all the caffeine I'd had today.

Denial and I got along swell.

A soft voice broke the normal quiet of the library as a librarian read to a group of preschoolers, who seemed enraptured by a story about a flying pig.

Ah, the magic of books. The kind of magic that had nothing to do with witches or spells or charms. And was perhaps even more powerful.

Weaving through the fiction section, I headed for the reference desk. As I neared, I heard another voice, this one not so soft.

"What do you mean it's missing?" she said.

Biting back a groan, I approached with caution.

Glinda looked up when she saw me and said, "Oh great."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"This day just keeps getting better and better," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry," the librarian said. "I can't find it."

"Can you look again?" Glinda asked. "Please?"

"I've looked five times. It's gone. I need to file a report. I'm sorry." She turned to face me. "Can I help you, miss?"

"I'd like to view the Toil and Trouble microfilm from October 1979."

Glinda crossed her arms and looked at me smugly.

She did smug well.

"Oh dear," the librarian said. "As I was telling this young lady, the film is missing."

My gaze zipped to Glinda.

"Don't look at me like that!" she said. "I didn't take it."

I narrowed my eyes.

She held up her hands. "Hey, I handed it over to Colleen Curtis at closing time last night."

As much as I wanted to blame her, Glinda wouldn't lie about Colleen. She knew I'd find out the truth.

Then I recalled what Colleen had said about the film being misfiled yesterday . . . Perhaps that had happened again, but by the expression on this librarian's face, she'd had enough looking.

I asked her, "Is Colleen working today?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Not until tomorrow."

Glinda said, "Can I see the Boston Globe editions from the same time?"

"I'll look," she said, disappearing into a back room.

Glinda gave me some side-eye and said, "At least you got time looking at the film. Right after you left, Colleen shooed me out because of closing time."

Boo. Hoo. "There wasn't much written that's not in the Globe." The value of the Toil film was the photos, which told me more than any of the articles I'd read.

Hmm. I wondered if Starla had access to the original images. Because for every one shot published, ten more had to have been taken.

I drummed my fingers on the counter, wondering if I should stick around or come back later. I was supposed to meet Cherise soon, and then later I had that date with Nick. . . .

Plus, I was here.

But . . . so was Glinda.

Floodgates.

There were two microfilm machines more than an arm's length away from each other. Out of hitting distance. That was good.

The librarian came back, carrying the small box of film. "Do you need help loading it?"

"I don't think so. Thanks."

"You're welcome." She looked at me expectantly.

I glanced at Glinda. "Are you done?"

"Yes," she said.

"Then why are you still standing there?"

I swore she brought out the worst in me.

The corner of her lip twitched. "Well, excuse me." She went to one of the machines.

"Dear?" the librarian said.

I leaned in close and dropped my voice, asking her for the Toil and Trouble film for May, twenty-four years ago.

Because Harper had been born on April thirtieth, an article about my mother's death wouldn't have been published until May. If there was one at all.

Anxiety dampened my palms and I wiped them on my denim capris. While I waited, I watched Glinda struggle to load the microfilm. After a minute, I couldn't stand it any longer. I walked over, took the film from her, and loaded it.

Damn my fix-it complex.

"I had it under control," she said dourly.

"So I saw."