Chapter 13 #3
"Find something interesting?" Ethan asks from where he’s settled into an armchair with his coffee.
"Very," I breathe, carefully opening the cover. It's a first edition—I'd recognize the typesetting anywhere. My heart races as I flip to the title page, half-expecting to see Whitlock’s looping signature scrawled in ink.
But the space beneath the author’s name is blank.
Still, the pages are in remarkable condition, with only minimal foxing. A first edition Whitlock in this state is a rare find—signature or not.
"This is..." I struggle to find words that won't reveal how desperately I’d love to have a copy like this in my collection. "It's quite valuable. Did you know that?"
Ethan shrugs. "I figured it might be. It was my great-grandfather's. He used to say Whitlock himself gave it to him, but I always thought that was just a good story."
I nearly drop the book. "Whitlock gave it to him? Directly?"
"That's the family legend." Ethan takes a sip of his coffee. "My great-grandfather traveled to Magnolia Cove often for work. Supposedly, he and Whitlock stayed at the same boarding house whenever they were in town."
This new information sends my mind racing. If Whitlock personally gave this book to Ethan's great-grandfather, then the chances of other signed copies being in Magnolia Cove increase exponentially. Maybe my quest isn't as quixotic as my colleagues suggested.
I carefully set the book on the table and take a steadying breath. "Ethan, I hope this isn't inappropriate, but would you consider selling this? I'd pay well above market value."
Ethan studies me for a moment, then smiles. "Consider it payment for the protection wards."
I stare at him, certain I've misheard. "I'm sorry?"
"The book. It's yours." He nods toward it. "For helping with the cake."
"But—" I sputter, shocked by his generosity. "That's far too much. The ward was a simple spell, hardly worth—"
"It's worth it to me," Ethan interrupts gently.
"That cake represents a lot more than just food to the couple getting married.
It's a centerpiece of their celebration, something they'll remember their whole lives.
" He shrugs. "Besides, the book would mean more to you than it does to me.
I'd rather see it with someone who appreciates its value instead of gathering dust on my shelves.”
I'm momentarily speechless. In academic circles, there would be fierce competition for a first edition Whitlock.
People would call in favors, pull strings, perhaps even engage in some ethical corner-cutting to acquire it.
Yet here's Ethan, casually giving it away because he thinks I'd appreciate it more.
"I don't know what to say," I finally manage. "Thank you seems inadequate."
Ethan laughs. "It's just a book, man."
I glance down at the book again, its worn leather cover warm beneath my fingertips. Just a book? Maybe to someone else. But to me, it means so much more.
"Besides," he adds, "Alex tells me you've made quite an impression on Rhianna. Anyone who can make her smile like that is good in my book. No pun intended."
At the mention of Rhianna, warmth spreads through my chest. "She's... remarkable."
"She is," Ethan agrees. "I've known her since shortly after I met Zoe. Never seen her this happy."
I take another sip of coffee to hide my smile. "I'm still trying to figure out what she sees in me, to be honest."
"That's usually how it goes." Ethan's eyes crinkle at the corners. "When I met Alex, I couldn't believe someone like her would give someone like me a second look. But sometimes life just works out, you know?"
"Yeah," I say. "I think I'm starting to understand that."
We fall into an easy rhythm after that. Ethan's laid-back energy makes it hard not to feel comfortable—he doesn't rush the conversation or fill every silence.
Instead he just lets things unfold naturally.
It's rare, being around someone who doesn't expect quick answers or constant chatter.
And for someone like me, who typically rehearses responses and analyzes social cues with academic precision, that's… unexpectedly comforting.
When I mention I'd be happy to help restore the wards on his most deteriorated volumes, he simply nods and says, "Whenever you get around to it.
No rush." No scheduling, no deadlines, no formal arrangement—just a casual understanding.
A month ago, such vagueness would have sent me into a mild panic.
Now, I find myself nodding back, accepting the unstructured nature of the offer.
We discover a shared interest in chess—the board on his porch isn't just for show—though our approaches couldn't be more different. While I've memorized dozens of opening sequences and strategic patterns, Ethan admits he plays purely by intuition.
"I just move the pieces where they feel right," he says with a shrug when I ask about his strategy.
"But how do you plan several moves ahead?" I can't help but ask.
Ethan laughs. "I don’t, and that’s kind of the fun—just seeing where it leads.
I take some things seriously, like baking, but it’s nice to be laid-back somewhere else.
" It's such a foreign concept—approaching something without mapping out every possible outcome—yet I find myself oddly drawn to it.
Perhaps there's something to be said for letting things unfold naturally, for finding the balance between careful planning and spontaneous joy.
Isn't that what Rhianna has been showing me?
"I should get going," I say later as I gather my things. "Thanks again for the book. And the coffee."
"Anytime." Ethan walks me to the door. "You know, when I first moved here, I planned to leave the first chance I got. It felt too small, too quiet—nothing like the cities where I'd trained."
I pause on the threshold, curious. "What changed your mind?"
"The people," he says simply. "There's something special about this place—the way everyone knows each other, looks out for each other.
It grounds you. And then there was Alex.
.." He smiles. "Sometimes you find yourself in places you never expected to be, with people you never expected to meet, and it just.. . feels right."
His words strike a chord within me. I came to Magnolia Cove seeking adventure, a departure from my meticulously planned life, something to shake me out of my routine before I returned to the academic world I know so well.
After losing Mark, I realize how quickly life can end.
I didn’t just want change. I want to live a little before I miss the chance entirely.
And this adventure is doing that. It’s making me feel awake for the first time in my life.
But what if this isn't just a temporary adventure?
What if this small, magical island with its quirky residents and impossible beauty is where I'm meant to be?
What if Rhianna Wilder, with her boundless enthusiasm and uncanny ability to make me forget all my careful plans, is who I'm meant to be with?
The thought should terrify me. Three months ago, it would have. And maybe it still should—especially knowing how guarded Rhianna is, how she flinches at the thought of anything permanent. She’s made it clear she’s not looking for something long term. Not now. Maybe not ever.
But my heart won’t let it go. Not yet.
So I’ll respect her boundaries, give her the space she needs. And maybe—just maybe—she’ll find room for me in whatever future she’s building. Because I already know I’d love for her to be part of mine.
Clutching a book I’ve only dreamed of finding in this condition—one I’ve read before, sure, but never like this—I think about the woman who makes my heart race with a single smile, and I feel something entirely different.
I feel like I’ve found home.
"I know exactly what you mean," I tell Ethan, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I truly do.