Maybe This October

Chapter 1

The October List

Lucy Harper knew the exact moment October became a problem.

Lucy stood beside it with one hand on her hip and the other holding a paper cup of coffee that had already gone cold.

Around her, the Cedar Street Branch Library was waking up in layers: the hum of lights, the rattle of the book return, the whisper of pages as Priya Shah restocked the new-release display.

Outside the tall front windows, Boston had begun its annual argument with summer.

Half the trees were green. Half were orange.

Everyone had suddenly decided scarves were necessary.

Lucy loved October.

Usually.

This year, the neighborhood festival included a used-book fair, three outdoor movie nights, a craft market, a children's costume story hour, a pumpkin-carving contest, two author events, and a fundraiser that paid for half the branch's after-school programming.

Lucy had made color-coded schedules for all of it.

Then her best friend had betrayed her.

"I am not betraying you," Mara Carter said through Lucy's phone, which was propped against a stack of dictionaries. "I am traveling for work. There is a difference."

"You are leaving for the entire month."

"Twenty-six days."

"That is the entire month wearing a fake mustache."

Priya snorted from behind the circulation desk.

Mara ignored the sound. "I found you help."

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "I have volunteers."

"You have Mr. Alvarez, who thinks ladders are a government conspiracy, and fourteen teenagers who signed up because their guidance counselor said community service would look good on college applications."

"They are enthusiastic teenagers."

"One of them tried to staple a banner to a tree last year."

Lucy looked toward the supply closet. "We no longer give Caleb access to staplers."

"Exactly. You need someone who can lift things, fix things, drive things, and tell you when your plan is physically impossible."

Lucy went still.

Mara's smile became suspiciously bright.

"No," Lucy said.

"I haven't even said his name."

"You didn't have to."

"Ben has the month mostly free outside his shifts."

There it was.

Ben Carter. Mara's older brother. Boston firefighter. Family legend. Professional rescuer of broken shelves, stalled cars, and people who had made the mistake of mentioning a leaking faucet in his presence.

Also the owner of the face Lucy had spent most of her twenties teaching herself not to think about.

"Absolutely not."

"He already said yes."

Lucy's coffee cup creaked under her fingers.

"You asked him before asking me?"

"I know you. If I asked first, you'd make a spreadsheet explaining why you don't need help."

"I would have used a table."

"He'll be there at six tonight."

"Mara."

"Love you. My boarding group is being called."

"Mara."

The call ended.

Priya leaned across the desk. "So. Ben Carter."

Lucy gave her a warning look.

"I've only met him twice," Priya said. "But if the festival collapses, he could probably hold up the building with one shoulder."

"The building is structurally sound."

"That is exactly what a woman who doesn't want to discuss Ben Carter would say."

Lucy turned back to the printer.

The truth was embarrassing in its simplicity.

At twenty-three, Lucy had been painfully, quietly in love with her best friend's brother.

Ben had been kind to her in the casual way people were kind to furniture they had grown up around.

He had carried her boxes when she moved apartments, remembered she hated olives, and once driven across Boston during a thunderstorm because Mara's car battery had died and Lucy happened to be with her.

Then Lucy had grown up.

Mostly.

She had built a career, a life, and an annual October festival large enough to require three clipboards.

She could survive four weeks of Ben Carter.

At 5:58 that evening, the library door opened.

Ben walked in wearing jeans, work boots, and a navy sweatshirt with BOSTON FIRE across the chest.

He glanced around the room, spotted Lucy, and smiled.

"Mara says you're in trouble."

Lucy looked at her perfectly organized stack of festival binders.

"Mara exaggerates."

Ben set a large toolbox on the nearest table.

"Good," he said. "I brought tools anyway."

And just like that, October became complicated.