Chapter 17 Alex #2
I pause on the B&B’s porch. A Magnolia tree shudders in the wind, its dark, glossy leaves glimmering.
I have two more nights left on the island, then I leave for the real world.
For real this time. But I can’t go my entire life without knowing the story here.
If I only have hours left, I’m going to use them to discover whatever secret is hiding behind Magnolia Cove’s picture-perfect facade.
Somehow, the Magnolia Cove Library smells like cinnamon. The entire town seems to hold the scents of a comforting grandmother’s house. The library even has stained-glass windows that allow softly glowing, colorful light to dance in patterns on the rug.
I’ve walked past this place a dozen times, meaning to stop in, but it’s only now, with questions tugging at my heart, that I finally do.
I approach the front desk, where a librarian with her hair French-braided and a cardigan punctuated with colorful pins sits typing at a computer. The pins say things like ‘prose before bros’ and ‘I like big books and I cannot lie.’
I’m smiling when she turns toward me.
“Nice pins.”
“Thanks. I make them myself.”
“You could give the New York City librarians some ideas.”
The woman’s smile widens, and she looks me up and down. “New York City, huh? You must be Alex Sinclair. I’m Rihanna. Zoe has told me all about you.”
“She’s probably made me sound more colorful than I actually am.”
Rihanna snorts. “She keeps us on our toes, that one.”
There’s that “us” again. I’ve noticed the citizens of Magnolia Cove speak about themselves collectively—like they’re more than just neighbors.
Dean’s conversation with Ethan runs through my mind once more.
There’s some council that’s watching Ethan but also looking out for him.
It’s like the answer I’m searching for is right in front of my eyes, but there’s a mirage keeping me from seeing it.
“I was wondering if you have an archive section about Magnolia Cove’s history that I could access?”
Rihanna’s expression falters. She jumps up and comes around the desk.
“We do, but I’m afraid we had a severe storm a few months back, and they had to lock it up for renovations, so it’s closed at the moment.
A mess, really. I’m bringing it back up at the council meeting next month.
And unfortunately, our non-fiction director, Claire, is out of town.
We have other resources available, though.
I’ll show you what we’ve got, and you can check back with Claire again next week if you want. ”
I follow her through the stacks but frown.
The bookstore had no history books, the museum didn’t possess basic facts about the town’s founding, and now the library conveniently lacks the same.
As we pass down an aisle, I catch sight of a door labeled ‘Local History Archives.’ It’s locked with a glimmering padlock that glows in the stained-glass light.
I stop walking. Light dances around the padlock, twirling into the keyhole and flitting around the metal.
“You okay?” Rihanna frowns at me.
“Ah, yeah. Everything’s fine.” I offer her a smile, but she doesn’t return it.
Instead, she marches us forward and begins discussing a book she read for her book club and a music festival she plans to attend next month.
She speaks at a rapid clip, like she’s attempting to cover something up.
But what? There’s nothing to hide in a public library.
I spend the next hour poring over what materials I can access, but something’s not adding up. There are gaps in the town’s records—entire decades missing. What information is available feels completely fake, like someone who’s never taken a class in journalistic integrity made it all up.
My stomach growls, reminding me I’ve skipped not just lunch but dinner.
I pack my things and head out, my mind fogged with all my questions.
My heart aches for answers that might prove Ethan’s innocence.
Newspapers run stories with angles all the time.
Ethan might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Or maybe my heart is just desperate to believe that.
Stepping outside, I’m struck again by how impossibly charming Magnolia Cove is.
The flowers along Main Street are as vibrant and in bloom as they were when I first arrived a month ago.
A vintage car putters by, its engine purring without a hint of exhaust. A group of boys run down the opposite sidewalk, laughing—Jas among them, I’m glad to see—and when they spill out into the road, the drivers and shop owners only wave at them.
Everything here just seems a touch too idyllic. It’s like living inside a Norman Rockwell calendar.
My feet carry me to The Whimsical Whisk before I’ve made a conscious decision to go there. Zoe’s cleaning the display glass, humming some fast-paced tune I don’t know.
“Well, well, well,” she chirps as she jumps to her feet. “I’m afraid the Bonanza champion isn’t here currently, but you look like you could use a pick-me-up, and I know just the thing.”
My heart sinks to hear Ethan isn’t at the Whisk. I should have known as much, though. He spends Friday afternoons with his father. It hits me how well I’ve gotten to know him, and yet there are these secrets stretching between us as big as a chasm.
As Zoe bustles behind the counter, I take my usual booth and gather my courage. “Hey, Zoe, can I ask you something?”
She walks out with a muffin that smells of peanut butter, studded with glistening chocolate chips and a dusting of sanding sugar in one hand and a tall glass of milk in the other.
My stomach gives a dramatic growl. I’ve entirely neglected basic needs as I’ve spent the day trying to find the missing pieces to the puzzle of Magnolia Cove, to the puzzle of Ethan Hart.
Zoe chuckles and nudges the food in my direction, insisting I take a bite before she answers.
It melts in my mouth and tastes like sitting before a warm fire.
“Shoot, Sugar. But if it’s about Ethan’s secret family of circus performers, I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“I… wait, what?”
Zoe laughs and points at my food again. I take another bite, fighting back a groan at the flavor’s depth, before she replies. “Just keeping you on your toes. Now, what’s really on your mind?”
I take a deep breath. “I’ve been researching the town’s history, and… well, I came across some information about Ethan. About an incident in his past. Not here in Magnolia Cove, but in a city somewhere else.”
I’m almost certain her smile falters, but her voice sounds the same. “Playing detective, are we? Should have expected that from our initial meeting.”
“Zoe, I’m serious.” I push the plate forward with the half-eaten muffin still on it.
I need actual answers. “This seemed serious and I…” It takes me a moment to gather my courage, and Zoe doesn’t interrupt.
Instead, she studies me, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m worth my credentials.
“The thing is, I’ve come to care about Ethan.
I mean, as more than just a story subject.
It’s unprofessional, I know, but… I really like him, and I’m trying to understand. ”
Zoe tosses her polishing rag onto the table and sighs as she takes a seat.
The intensity is back in her dark eyes, and she doesn’t break my gaze as she sits in silence for a moment.
She tucks a strand of purple hair behind her ear.
“Listen, City Girl, every town’s got its skeletons, and every person’s got a few of them too.
But here’s the thing about skeletons—they’re a lot less scary if you shine a light on them. You know what I’m saying?”
I think I do. She nudges the plate back toward me, and I take another small bite.
The muffin tastes like everything Ethan bakes—sweetness perfectly balanced with a rich depth, the crumb light and tender.
It leaves me more convinced that there’s a misunderstanding, that the article didn’t have the facts.
Journalism, unfortunately, isn’t always the most accurate craft.
Sometimes, selling a hot angle matters more, even if it’s not true. Like when Vivian laughed about me actually featuring the Whisk. Our job is to sell magazines first, accurate stories second.
“Talk to Ethan.” Zoe is, for once, entirely serious. Her tattoos gleam as she crosses her arms, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes. “Some stories aren’t mine to tell. If you want to know Ethan’s past, you should ask him.”
“I’m scared,” I admit softly. “When I came here, I didn’t expect to meet—” I want to say Ethan. I want to say someone who makes me feel alive and seen, something beyond duty, work, and hardship. Instead, I lamely finish with, “all this.”
Zoe nods, though, as if she understands. “Love,” she says carefully, “has a way of changing everything. The question is, are you ready for that kind of change?”
I feel breathless, the food frozen in my hand.
Love? Is that what this feeling is? Does that explain the warmth that spreads through my chest every time I think of Ethan’s crooked smile?
How I can’t read an article without highlighting a recipe technique he’d find interesting?
The pulling sensation that’s keeping me here on Magnolia Cove, long after my departure date?
I force a smile. “Thanks for dinner, Zoe.”
She scowls. “That’s barely a snack. You should stop by The Hungry Gull. Hazel will feed you something that will actually stick to your ribs.” Her nose wrinkles, and her mouth curls into a scowl. “Just don’t accept the coffee, no matter what she says.”
I laugh and make my way to the door. “So I’ve heard. And, Zoe? Thanks for the advice, as well.”
She only nods, then turns back to her nemesis, the smudged glass, and gets back to work.
I wander almost aimlessly down the street.
Ethan will spend the entire evening with his father, then work all day tomorrow.
We already have plans to go to a Magnolia Cove summer festival tomorrow evening—an event he wanted me to see.
He said there’s something more about the island I’ll discover there.
I’ll have to find my bravery and ask Ethan directly about everything at the event.
Zoe implied it wasn’t as bad as it seems. I’m willing to have faith that it’s true. Tomorrow, I’ll get my answers. About Ethan, about this town, about the strange magic that seems to hum in the air here.
More than that, I’ll be taking a step toward something I never expected to find. Something that terrifies and thrills me in equal measure.
Love.
I’ve spent my entire life surviving, but maybe Zoe was right. Maybe I’m ready for a change after all.