Chapter 32
S omehow, hunting down riddles across town with a handsome author and two mischievous dogs had become Alex’s new normal—and she wasn’t mad about it.
She and Will stood at the edge of the town square, eyeing the “Tiny but Mighty McKenzie Fountain” like it might spit out the next clue.
A townsperson handed them an envelope with dramatic flair, giving them a knowing grin as if they were starring in the world’s most charming small-town mystery.
Alex exchanged a look with Will—game on.
From the fountain, the scavenger hunt led them down Main Street to the town’s iconic white gazebo, its railings wrapped in red, white, and blue bunting that fluttered in the breeze.
Pots of petunias spilled color at each corner, and the scent of sugared kettle corn drifted in from somewhere nearby.
Music played faintly in the background, mingling with the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter as families gathered to celebrate.
Their next clue took them up the winding trail to Lookout Point, where the view stretched out like a painted postcard.
McKenzie Ridge lay below, cozy and vibrant in its Founder’s Day finest. Alex paused to take it in, the wind gently tugging at her hair.
Will stepped close, his gaze fixed on her more than the view.
He leaned in, something tender flickering in his eyes.
But just before their lips could meet, a family tumbled up the trail—kids squealing as they raced past, trailing ribbons and energy.
Will and Alex laughed, brushing off the moment with good-natured smiles and a shared glance that said it wasn’t lost—it was just postponed.
Their path continued to a quiet corner of town where the small Henry Jackman exhibit was nestled inside a brick storefront.
Will slipped into tour guide mode, leading Alex past glass cases filled with antique typewriters, dog-eared manuscripts, and handwritten letters.
His enthusiasm was infectious as he pointed out obscure facts and favorite quotes with the kind of reverence only a fellow writer could offer.
Inside the historic library, dust motes danced in golden shafts of light. Books towered around them in quiet reverence as they strolled down a long aisle, flanked by shelves bursting with worn spines and whispered stories.
“I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time here or noticed half of what you’ve pointed out,” Alex said, trailing her fingers along the edges of the books.
“I spent a lot of time here with these books,” Will replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Come on, let me show you something.”
He took her hand and led her to another aisle tucked away near the back. With a slight smile, he stopped in front of a row of well-loved volumes.
“This right here,” he said, patting the shelf, “this is where I thought my books would be one day.”
Alex glanced up at him, then walked the length of the shelf, gently brushing her fingers across the bindings. She paused, reading the titles.
“These are all... love stories,” she said, lifting a brow in amusement.
“More or less...” Will said with a shrug.
“Do happily ever afters exist?” Alex asked, her tone soft, curious.
“I hope so,” he said, watching her closely.
Tucked between the books, Alex spotted a small brown package with her name written across the top. Her brows lifted as she plucked it off the shelf and turned to him.
“You planned this?” she asked, eyes wide.
Will only shrugged again, a sly smile on his lips.
She opened it slowly. Inside, nestled in tissue, was the necklace she had admired at the craft fair. Her hand flew to her heart.
“Oh, Will. I don’t know what to say,” she murmured.
“Can I take you to the movies tonight?” he asked. “I hear there’s a classic playing for Founder’s Day.”
“Do you mean the movie night out on the back lawn at the B&B,” she said, grinning, “where the whole town watches the one and only film ever made here?”
“Well,” he teased, “there isn’t a proper theatre.”
“I’d love to,” she replied.
Will leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet. When they pulled away, Alex held up the necklace. Will took it from her and gently fastened it around her neck.
* * *
By nightfall, Whispering Pines had traded its quiet charm for something straight out of a small-town movie premiere.
The back lawn was a sea of blankets and lawn chairs––all angled toward the makeshift outdoor screen where Murder in Moonlight Hollow began its grainy flicker beneath a sky full of stars.
Popcorn machines hummed, cider steamed, and laughter bubbled in the cool evening air.
Off to the side, Betty Jean Haskins—McKenzie Ridge’s own Dead Woman Three—sat at a folding table with a velvet cloth and a glittery pen, signing autographs like she was waiting for her next big break.
Alex approached from the B&B, pleasantly surprised to see Will setting up a cozy sprawl of pillows and a picnic basket on top of a thick blanket.
“You’ve been busy,” she said, smiling. “This is lovely.”
“It isn’t every day we get to watch the only movie ever filmed here,” Will said, gesturing dramatically.
“That is such a terrible tagline,” Alex replied with a playful eyeroll. “I don’t know how it’s lasted.”
“It’s a classic,” he defended. “Since Allistair Wentworth couldn’t be here, the other local star, Betty Jean Haskins, filled in. She played Dead Woman Three.”
Alex gave him a knowing look. “I see you have become part of the local gossip committee.”
“Lou might have filled me in,” Will admitted.
With a grin, he reached beside the blanket and pulled out a signed photo of Betty Jean Haskins.
“You... got her autograph?” Alex asked, nearly laughing.
“There wasn’t anyone in her line, and I felt bad. She had these printed herself,” he said.
“Of course, she did. Well, you started a trend. That’s a pretty good line she has.”
“She’s a sweet lady. And warning, she said something about going to the city council after this turnout to get her rose garden.”
“She’s been trying to get a town monument in her honor for years,” Alex said with a shake of her head.
“Her role as Dead Woman Three must be captivating,” Will said with mock seriousness.
They laughed as they settled onto the blanket and the movie began. The warm buzz of the crowd faded into background hum.
Then, Will’s phone pinged.
He glanced at the screen. Alex followed his gaze.
MARGOT: Where are you? Call me.
Will tapped the button to silence it and slipped the phone into his pocket.
Alex quickly turned her attention back to the movie, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Who was Margot?
* * *
Alex lay curled beneath a cozy quilt in her room at Whispering Pines, the glow of the bedside lamp casting a soft golden hue across the pages of The Heart’s Desire.
Her eyes lingered on the final sentence, the kind that made the world pause for just a second.
She slowly closed the book, cradling it to her chest as if it were something precious, and let the tears fall.
It was two a.m. Her bedside clock confirmed it with glowing red numbers, but time meant nothing now.
Not when her heart felt like it had just been cracked open and stitched back together all at once.
Reaching for her phone, she swiped through to her favorites and hit the name she always called in moments like this.
Across town, Tori’s phone buzzed to life, jolting her from sleep. She squinted at the screen, then answered with a groggy voice.
“Hey. It’s awfully late. You okay?” she asked, already sitting up straighter when she saw Alex’s tear-streaked face on the screen of her video call.
“Yeah,” Alex whispered, voice thick and eyes shining.
Tori’s brow furrowed as she leaned closer to the phone. “What happened? Why are you crying? Do I need to come over?”
In response, Alex simply held up the book. The Heart’s Desire filled the screen, and Tori’s tense features melted into a soft, knowing smile.
“Ah,” Tori said with a nod. “You finished it.”
Alex gave a little nod, her chin trembling.
“Do you believe in love again?” Tori asked gently.
“Will wrote this,” Alex said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“He sure did, honey,” Tori replied, her tone warm and proud.
“It’s beautiful,” Alex breathed, clutching the book tighter.
“Uh-huh,” Tori agreed with a sleepy grin.
Alex hesitated, eyes drifting toward the small heart-shaped necklace resting against her collarbone. “Do you think it’s real?”
Tori tilted her head. “Are you still wearing the necklace he got you?”
Alex nodded again, slowly.
“Wow,” she said, her voice breaking with awe and emotion. “It’s... real.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but this time they came with a smile. On the other end of the screen, Tori giggled, her heart full for her best friend.
“Congrats, Alex… I think you’re in love.”