"What?" I glanced at the small square bakery table between Broadrick and me. Did it have a broken leg?

"There's no sitting here," the woman behind the bakery counter said with her hands on her hips as she stared at us like we'd broken a law.

That didn't make sense. This was a bakery. For rich people. Of course, we were expected to sit around and gab while we munched. It was practically a rule. Hell, it might actually have been a rule.

It was definitely a PI rule. Number 469-Must gossip while eating cupcakes.

"We can't sit at this table?" I asked as I pointed my index finger at it in case she got confused again.

She huffed. "No, in this store. I don't appreciate loiterers."

I jerked back. Loiterers? Who was loitering? I flashed Broadrick a glance. He had his head down, but his cheeks gave away the grin he struggled to hold in.

How did he find this funny?

It wasn't funny.

You couldn't have a bakery that didn't allow you to sit and munch in it. We paid for these cupcakes. Now where we were going to eat them?

I opened my mouth to remind her of bakery-gossip etiquette, but Broadrick nudged me with his elbow.

"Just let it go, babe," he whispered with those stupid ends of his lips still tipped up.

I narrowed my eyes at him and stepped away from the table. "Fine."

It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard of and complete bullcrap, but whatever.

We made our way toward the door. "I didn't want to sit there anyway."

"Have a great day," Broadrick said to the cranky woman, talking right over me.

I stepped outside and turned toward him. "It's true. The place had no personality."

They probably bought those boring aprons from Amazon or a cheap knock-off Wish app.

Broadrick moved to the side, and I stepped around him, running smack dab into the side of a redhead, turning the corner.

"I'm so sorry," I said, putting my hand on her upper arm to steady myself.

"No worries." She stepped back, pushed her thick braid off her shoulder, and smiled. Her gaze fell to the bag in Broadrick's hand. "Did Peggy yell at you for sitting in one of her chairs?"

"Yes! How did you know?" I asked. Obviously, other people on this island understood the bakery rules of cupcake etiquette.

She laughed. "You have the look. Peggy has a lot of pent-up aggression. We always order and go."

"She doesn't understand cupcake-gossip etiquette!" I threw my hands up and Broadrick put his hand on my shoulder.

"Let's roll it back. She's watching from the giant window," he whispered in my ear like she could hear us through the glass, too.

The redhead held out her hand, and we shook. "Don't use Peggy to judge us all. We're pretty cool. I'm Delila."

"Vonnie, and this is Broadrick. We're just visiting." I felt the need to clarify our living status. Probably just to prove we didn't really belong on the island, but in Maine.

Peggy squished all the warm fuzzy feelings I'd developed for the island in one sentence. I mean, it was cupcake-gossip etiquette. You couldn't just break that all willy-nilly by not letting people sit on your chairs.

"You should come to Stitchin' Stories tonight at seven for our knitting group. They'll love you." She pointed down the street a few stores to the blue and white overhang with the store name written on the door.

Did I just get invited to a girl group hangout? In Pelican Bay we got together whenever without set times. It made it easier and harder at the same time. "Tonight at seven?"

"Yup. I've got to go, but I'll see you there," she said, as if me showing up was a forgone conclusion.

Because it so was.

"See you there!" I yelled after her as she finished making her way down the street. She tucked her tote bag over her shoulder and walked past the store with a wave inside to someone.

I hit Broadrick on the arm. "B, I'm going to a girl date."

I'd always wanted to go on a girl date. I didn't know they existed until now, but if I had, it would have been on my bucket list.

Broadrick furrowed his brow as we watched her turn another corner, headed toward the resort. "What if they're running a kidnapping ring?"

"Out of the book and yarn store?" I bobbed my head at him. "Do we think the cartels use that as a big chain supplier?"

For a man who touted this island so heavily, the comment shocked me. I was normally the one worried about criminals.

Plus, let's be honest. If anyone kidnapped me, they'd bring me back an hour later. If I didn't rescue myself in the process.

"They're too cool for that," I promised him.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "How are you sure?"

"I can just tell. I'm an excellent judge of character." Crap. We had a problem, though. "Do you have knitting needles?"

Broadrick jerked his head back in my direction. "Yeah, babe. I packed them in my carry-on."

"For real, B. I can't show up to Knitting Night without the proper equipment." We stared silently at one another for a beat. "I need this right now, Broadrick."

Everything I'd worked so hard for was on the verge of tumbling off a cliff. Sometimes it seemed like everyone wanted me to leave Pelican Bay. It made me feel like a failure. If I had the chance to sit around and knit something, I'd go home with a scarf. Or a sweater. Something to show for all my hard work. A hat to prove I wasn't a failure at all aspects of this life.

"Okay," he said with a sideways smile. "Let's get you some needles."

I hurrahed.

Sure, my life was in shambles, but if I learned to knit, everything would work out fine. It had to.

Broadrick held the door to Stitchin' Stories open for me, letting me walk in first. My mouth dropped open in astonishment at my first view of the place. Dark wood bookshelves lined all the walls, with a few taller ones in the middle of the room on the right.

They had books everywhere. Shoved in the shelves and stacked on the small tables set next to big comfy chairs in various corners. There were no signs directing you to sections, but the shelf in front of us had a mixture of brightly colored paperbacks lined up neatly.

To the left, yarn loaded up the bookcases. Each shelf was color coordinated in rainbow flare from left to right. Various bins with different tags and words on them filled in extra space around the room. It was chaotic and... amazing.

"This place is wonderful," I said to Broadrick as I led us to the left toward a tall display of different pieces of equipment. I didn't know what most of them were, but I liked them all.

"What should I get?" I asked Broadrick as I thumbed a beautiful set of scissors with finger holes shaped like peacocks. I probably couldn't get those on the plane.

He tapped a pair of long metal needles that reminded me of chopsticks, except for the small, rounded pieces of metal at the ends that probably kept the yarn from slipping off.

"Those are okay, but let's get them in purple." I grabbed the pair beside them. They were a little thicker, but the color was much cuter. It probably didn't matter.

Broadrick wandered off toward the books, and I walked around the display to see if I needed anything else. While I couldn't get the cute scissors on the plane, I grabbed two rolls of bright pink yarn for whatever I created with my new hobby. The pink meant I could wear it to work at the bakery.

A few minutes later, Broadrick found me flipping through a book on easy knitting patterns to find which one had the cutest pictures. Sure, I had to start out small, but once I mastered the skill, I'd want something cute. The book with frilly hats and mittens seemed perfect if I finished them before the winter. And it had super easy scarves to practice with for beginners. If I wanted an entire matching set, I'd probably need more yarn, though.

"Can you believe they don't have a single book on the Roman Empire or Napoleon?" he said with horror etched in his features.

I did my best not to laugh. "The indignity."

"The only book on WWII is a historical romance, and the heroine had a cell phone in her hand. It really makes you question the validity of the story."

I failed at not laughing, letting a small chuckle slip through. "We'll have to see if there are other bookstores on the island."

His gaze finally fell to my overfilled hands, and his brow furrowed. "Do you need yarn and a knitting book?"

"Yes, definitely."

"I thought you just wanted needles," he pressed.

I handed him the two balls of yarn, letting me grab another two. "Broadrick, I can't show up with only needles. How would I use them?"

He tilted his head to the side and then back and forth. "That's a fair point."

"I know." He said it like I didn't make fair points all the time, but that's practically all I did. They should call me "fair point Vonnie."

"Did you find everything alright? I would have offered to help, but Rosy wanted me to find a pattern from 1972 that her mother made once. And you understand how that is." A tall gentleman wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans said as we dropped everything on the counter by the register. His name badge had Harvard etched into the metal. He glanced up at us. "Oh, you're not from the island. Sorry. Did you need anything else today?"