Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
ROBYN
Robyn was back upstairs in her loft above the bookstore, her quick to-go dinner—Cobb salad and soup—sitting forgotten in their Styrofoam containers next to her shoes and purse by the door. The steam of the soup long gone cold.
She paced between the couch and the kitchen, still hearing Tyler’s voice on the sidewalk. Still seeing the way his face had shut down, like her good news had been a threat.
But it was good news. She hadn’t been fired. She’d been offered something exciting, something meaningful. A program she could build. A class she could teach. A way to blend what she loved with what she was good at.
And Tyler had basically exploded.
What had he expected her to do? The bookstore was likely selling. She needed a job. She liked teaching. She liked being a professor at Yale, and she hated how her life always seemed to get framed like a cruel little either/or.
Either she was the prestigious Yale professor and her parents’ shining success story, or she was a complete disappointment, a cautionary tale, the daughter who “threw it all away” for a small town and a man and a life no one in her old world would understand.
Why couldn’t she have both?
Why was Tyler making it feel impossible, like her even trying was a betrayal?
She stopped pacing long enough to drag a hand through her hair. Her chest felt tight with anger and something sharper underneath it.
Hurt.
Because she’d thought he wanted a future with her. He’d talked like he did.
But apparently his version of the future only worked if she folded neatly into Maple Falls, into his schedule, into the life he’d already built.
And when she tried to show him a plan—an actual plan—he hadn’t even looked at it. He’d acted like she’d handed him a Dear John letter.
Like he was already saying, “There’s the door. This has been fun, hasn’t it?”
Robyn’s phone started ringing on the counter.
She glanced at the screen and saw Tyler’s name.
Of course.
“Speak of the devil,” she muttered, but there was no real bite in it. Not anymore. Just the exhaustion of feeling too much at once.
She didn’t answer.
If she picked up right now, she’d snap. She’d say something sarcastic and regret it. She’d hurt him back just because she was hurting.
She let it ring out, telling herself she’d call him in five minutes. Ten. Enough time to cool down.
But that plan didn’t even make it to the next breath.
A text lit up her screen.
Emma’s not here. I can’t find her.
Robyn’s stomach dropped so fast she went cold.
Two short sentences that were enough to drain every last ounce of anger right out of her body and replace it with pure panic.
“What?” she whispered, already hitting call.
Tyler answered immediately, his voice ragged. “She didn’t run home. I don’t know where she went.”
Robyn could hear movement: doors opening and shutting, footsteps, Tyler calling her name like he was trying to pull Emma out of thin air.
“Emma!” he shouted in the background. “Emma, baby, come on—where are you?”
Robyn’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Okay,” she said, forcing calm into her voice even though her hands were shaking. “Okay, listen to me. We’re going to find her.”
“Robyn—” His voice cracked. “I checked her room. The bathroom. The backyard. She’s not here.”
“I’m going to start looking right now,” Robyn said. “And I’m going to get the word out. Don’t… don’t spiral, Tyler. We’ll find her.”
She hung up before she could hear him break.
Robyn was already moving.
She shoved her feet into boots, grabbed her coat, and snatched her phone off the counter. On her way out, she almost tripped over the forgotten dinner like the universe was trying to remind her how quickly a normal night could turn into something else entirely.
Outside, the air was cold enough to sting.
Robyn’s breath puffed white as she jogged down the stairs and onto Oak Way, eyes scanning the sidewalk, the corners, the shadows.
Then she opened the Maple Falls Book Club group chat with trembling fingers and typed.
Emma is missing. Last seen on Oak Way near Anita’s. Please keep an eye out—check your shops and the street.
She hit send.
The chat lit up immediately.
Mrs. C.: On my way. I’m calling Mrs. Bishop too. We’ll canvass the neighborhood by Tyler’s house.
Emily: I’ll grab my flashlight and check the park. Maybe she went back to the haunted house?
Zoe: I’m at the flower shop. I’ll look around the block and keep the door open in case she wanders in.
Cassidy: Liam and I are heading out now. We’ll check Winding Creek and the road between.
Liam: I’ll check the barns + fields too.
Kit: I’m closing up early and walking Oak Way. Text me if you find her.
Madison: I’ll head to the library. Check the children’s section.
Robyn swallowed hard.
This was Maple Falls. This was what the town did—they showed up.
And still, the fear kept rising.
Because Emma was only eight. And she was scared. And it was dark and cold and all Robyn could see in her mind was Emma’s pale face on the sidewalk, saying, “So you’re leaving.”
Robyn’s anger shifted into guilt so fast it made her nauseous.
She started searching.
She checked behind the bookstore first, pushing open the back door and stepping into the narrow space where deliveries were dropped off. No Emma. Just stacked cardboard boxes and the scent of damp leaves.
She jogged to the community park, cutting across the sidewalk, scanning the swings and the slide and the benches. She checked behind the gazebo, under the big oak tree, by the little duck pond that was mostly mud this time of year.
Nothing.
Her phone stayed clenched in her hand, ready to dial 911 if fifteen more minutes passed.
Ten…
Five…
She turned into the alley behind Anita’s café, heart hammering. The alley was lit by one flickering security light, the pavement damp, dumpsters lined up like shadows.
“Emma?” Robyn called softly, trying not to sound panicky even though she’d never been more scared before. “Sweetheart, it’s Robyn.”
No answer.
Robyn’s heart stuttered in her chest.
She turned back toward Oak Way, forcing her legs to keep moving, her eyes to keep scanning: doorways, steps, the nook beside the library, the place near the bookstore window where Emma liked to sit and read books while Tyler worked.
Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning worst-case scenarios.
Then her phone rang. Zoe’s name flashed across the screen.
Robyn answered on the first ring. “Zoe?”
“I’ve got her,” Zoe said, voice low but steady. “She’s here at the flower shop. In the back with my kitties. Tyler’s on his way, but I thought you’d want to—”
“I’ll be right there,” Robyn said, already breaking into a run.
Zoe’s flower shop was only a block away, but Robyn’s lungs burned by the time she pushed through the door.
Warmth and the scent of fresh greenery hit her immediately—eucalyptus and dried herbs followed by the faintly spiced sweetness of late dahlias that made her think of turning gardens and cold mornings.
The shop was softly lit and cozy, the way small shops on October evenings could be.
Buckets of flowers lined the front: deep yellow sunflowers, burgundy mums, and chocolate cosmos.
A display table overflowed with ribbon spools, miniature pumpkins, and garlands of preserved autumn leaves in gold and burned orange.
The bell above the door chimed cheerfully, completely unaware of the emergency unfolding beneath it.
Zoe appeared from behind the counter, her face already drawn with worry.
“Oh, Robyn.” She stepped forward and pulled her into a quick, firm hug.
Robyn clung to her for a second before pulling back. “Thank God you found her,” she whispered, voice shaking.
“She’s in the back workshop,” Zoe said gently. “She’s pretty upset.”
Robyn nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
Zoe led her through the shop into the work area behind it.
The back workshop was pure Zoe—organized chaos in the best way.
A long wooden table sat in the center, scattered with floral shears, ribbon, twine, and little water tubes.
Half-finished bouquets rested in vases, greens spilling over the edges.
A pegboard on the wall held tools in neat rows.
The air smelled like crushed stems and sweet petals and dried lavender.
And tucked in the corner, near a short set of steps that led down to storage, Emma sat with her knees pulled to her chest.
Zoe’s cat, Whiskers, and her kitten, Angel, were pressed up against her. Emma was speaking softly to them, trying hard to keep it together.
Robyn’s heart broke.
She lowered herself slowly, careful not to startle her. “Hey,” she said softly. “Emma.”
Emma didn’t look up. Her shoulders were shaking.
Robyn crouched closer, staying at Emma’s level. “Are you okay?”
Emma’s voice came out muffled. “You’re leaving.”
Robyn’s throat tightened. “Oh, sweetheart…”
Emma finally lifted her head, and her eyes were glossy and wide. “I thought…” Her voice wobbled. “I thought maybe… maybe we could be a family. But you’re leaving. Why are you leaving?”
Robyn’s chest ached so hard it felt like it might split.
She shifted closer, but didn’t reach out without permission. “I’m not leaving because of you,” she said carefully. “And I’m not leaving because I want to.”
Emma sniffed hard, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Then why?”
Robyn took a slow breath. “I have to go to Connecticut for work,” she admitted. “That’s part of my job. But that doesn’t mean I stop caring about you. And it doesn’t mean I disappear.”
Emma’s lower lip trembled. “But people disappear.”
Robyn’s eyes stung. She glanced at the kitties—both purring like tiny engines—and then back at Emma’s face.
“I can’t promise that everything will stay exactly the same,” Robyn said softly, because she wouldn’t lie to her. “But I can promise this: I will always come back. I will always show up when I say I will. And no matter where I am, I will care about you.”
Emma stared at her, breathing shaky.
Robyn let the truth settle gently between them. “And if you’re scared,” she added, voice cracking, “you tell me. You don’t run off alone, okay? You scared your dad. You scared me.”
Emma’s eyes filled again. “I didn’t want to be in the middle.”
Robyn’s heart twisted. “Oh, honey. You’re not in the middle. You’re… you’re the most important thing.”
Emma looked down at Angel, her fingers still buried in the kitten’s fur. “I just… like you.”
Robyn smiled through the ache. “I like you too.”
For a moment, Emma leaned into her just a little—and Robyn let out a deep breath.
Behind them, the workshop door creaked softly.
Robyn looked up.
Tyler stood there, coat still on, hair wind-tossed, his face tight with fear and relief and the kind of exhaustion that came from imagining the worst possible thing had happened.
His eyes met hers, and something passed between them. It was quiet, complicated, and completely raw, and she knew he’d heard her conversation with Emma. His gaze flicked to his daughter, and his whole body softened.
Robyn rose slowly and stepped back. Tyler crossed the room in two strides and crouched in front of his daughter, hands gentle as he brushed hair off her face. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Hey, Em.”
Emma’s shoulders shook again, and she surged forward into him, jumping into her father’s arms.
Tyler held her tightly to his chest, and Robyn watched them, her throat tight.
And in the middle of Zoe’s flower shop—surrounded by petals and ribbon and two fur babies—she felt it with sudden clarity: Emma. Tyler. This town. This almost-family.
This was her life, her heartbeat, and she was going to fight for it.