1. Maisie

Chapter one

Maisie

A sharp chirp from my phone wakes me out of a dead sleep.

Maisie, we need to talk. ASAP.

I blink bleary eyes at my phone screen. No one ever messages me on the work Slack before ten a.m., especially not after last night. They all know I was awake until four making final bug fixes on our new release, and I’m grumpy and foul-tempered if I’m bothered early.

I slide out of bed, throw on pajama pants and a nice shirt, and slide into my computer chair. In my reflection on the black screen, I can see my curly hair is a wild mess, so I quickly tidy it before logging in to my work VPN.

Immediately, the ring of a video call from my boss, Wade, blasts my eardrums.

“What’s up?” I ask, trying to keep the sleepiness out of my voice but failing miserably .

Wade does not look pleased. “The network crashed,” he says in a clipped tone. “Something you did last night destabilized it. We were supposed to have a release today, and instead, none of the players can log in.”

Staring at him through the screen, I play back in my memory what I did last night. I was crushing the last two bugs on the list, bugs nobody else had gotten around to fixing before they were all dead on their feet. But I kept going until the early hours of the morning to make sure everything was tip-top perfect before the new update rolled out to our users.

“When I logged out last night, everything was working fine!” Bile rises in my throat. There’s no way I made a mistake big enough to take out the entire network. It’s not possible.

“The moment the release hit, everything went down.” Wade’s expression is as hard as stone. “What can you remember?”

Tears bite at the back of my eyes as I comb through my memory, but nothing stands out. I had plenty of Red Bull and coffee in my system, so it wasn’t like I was falling asleep at the wheel. It actually took me forever to finally pass out once I had finished the last of it because I was so buzzed on caffeine.

“I’m so sorry,” is all I can manage, my eyes growing heavy and wet. Wade’s tough demeanor falls and his shoulders sag.

“Fuck, Maisie. Don’t cry.” His cat crawls into his lap. “I’m sure it was a mistake—”

“I don’t make mistakes like that!” Fuck, now I really am crying. “I’m sorry, Wade. I’ll fix it right now. I’ll figure out what went wrong, no problem.”

“No.”

The gruff word stops me short. I stare into the webcam perched on the top of my monitor, wondering why he won’t let me fix what I broke.

“What?” I blanch. “But—”

“I said ‘no’!” Wade’s tone is harsher than I’ve ever heard him before, and I want to crawl into a hole and die. “You’ve done enough. I’ve already put other engineers on fixing the problem, and they’ll handle it.”

“But I can fix it!” I must seem pathetic right now, but the worst punishment I could imagine is someone else having to hunt down my sloppy bug. I’m good at my job, I know what I’m doing, and I was certain that everything was working perfectly when I went to bed last night. I would never have let myself rest otherwise.

“Go back to bed, Maisie,” Wade says firmly. “We’re going to have a talk later, once this is all put back together.”

Then the call goes dead. I crumple in my chair, my face in my hands as tears stream down my face. Of course I won’t be able to sleep after that, so when I climb under my blankets, I lie there staring at the ceiling and wishing I could turn back time to figure out what went wrong.

Am I going to get fired?

When the call comes, I leap to my feet and scurry across the room to slide into my desk chair. It’s Wade again .

Is this my last day? Is this the call that will send me packing after all the years and years I’ve put into Swords of Malroth ?

“Hi,” I say as he pops up on my screen. I will not cry in front of my boss a second time.

“The server is back up and running.” He narrows his eyes at me. “And you are taking a vacation.”

I stare at the screen. “What? But I don’t have anything planned.” I never take vacations. My work is my vacation, because I love what I do. I don’t even know how I’d spend a day off.

“Consider it an order, Maisie. You need a reset. I can’t have my best employee so burned out that she’s making mistakes like this.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Oh,” is all I manage to say. “I’m not burned out, though—”

“You’re going.” Wade’s tone is firm and final. “I want you gone for a whole month this summer. And while you’re off, we’re going to conduct an investigation into what happened last night.”

My heart plummets. “An investigation?” I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing hard to keep myself from breaking down.

Wade gives me a stern look. “And if you even log on once in the next month, you’re fired.”

My mouth falls open. What on earth will I do for an entire month? I play a lot of video games, but I can’t occupy myself with only that .

“Go somewhere new,” Wade suggests. “Get out of the house. Explore the world a little and get your head back on straight.”

All I can do is nod. Despite our friendly relationship, I know he’s serious about this.

“Fine.” I sniffle. “A whole month, though? Really?”

“A whole month. Depending on the outcome of the investigation, I might let you come back sooner, but in the meantime, find some resort and treat yourself. Go traveling. There’s more out there than this job.”

But he doesn’t understand. There isn’t anything else out there for me.

When we sign off for the last time, I sit in my chair staring off into space. I already feel adrift.

With a heavy sigh, I open a new tab in my browser window. I don’t have any pets, so leaving home for a month just means paying my rent in advance and turning off the gas. I’ll need a place to stay if I’m leaving town, so I start there.

I browse listings for vacation homes within driving distance, all of them big, sprawling houses with fireplaces and astounding views. But I want something that will still feel like home—and something I can actually afford for that long.

“Entire apartment,” one of the listings reads. It’s a cute one-bedroom place with a kitchenette, living room, one bedroom and one bathroom. “Located in the beautiful small town of Hallow’s Cove. Live right above a bookstore on Main Street and enjoy everything this scenic town has to offer. ”

I don’t bother reading the description as I enter my dates, from tomorrow through next month, to see if it’s available. It’s a long shot, but who knows.

Sure enough, the apartment is open. This might be the only spot I can find on short notice, so I book it without a second look. Then I start packing.

Barnaby

What people will never really understand is the vast multitude of knowledge contained within books. All of humankind’s accomplishments culminate in the book. It is a physical testament to the sharing and preservation of information throughout history, and the only true primary source from the past.

Well, I keep those particular books in the back room where I can protect them from grubby hands and mold. Up here in the front of the store I carry your standard fiction novels—some thrillers, some mystery, some romance. There’s a small aisle of children’s books, and behind them, the cookbooks and biographies. Up front, in the window, are the local guidebooks, maps, and information booklets. I also have a rather thorough selection of greeting cards, featuring grumpy old ladies and cute animals with funny tag lines. I like to keep a little bit of everything on hand, so people who visit from out of town have a decent selection of books for their hotel evenings.

Whenever I get new customers, though, I push the latest Anne Hadron release. That woman sure knows how to tell a sordid historical tale—but no one seems quite as interested as I am. I really admire how much research and thought she puts into her stories, and how accurate they are to a period of time most writers get wrong.

I would know, because I was there.

But usually visitors pick up a sudoku book, or some shallow thriller, so I always make sure to keep plenty of James Pierson on hand. As there’s no cell phone coverage in Hallow’s Cove, tourists are looking for something to keep them occupied.

Humans don’t even realize that Google has scrambled their brains like eggs on toast. It’s stolen their curiosity. Once upon a time, you had to pull a volume from your encyclopedia to answer a question, and you would learn all sorts of other marvelous things along the way.

It’s been a nice, quiet day so far. I’m enjoying my latest backroom acquisition, a first-hand account of World War I, when the door to the shop flies open in a jingle of bells.

Mayor Louise strides in, all frilly collar and high heels, which only makes her maybe a few inches over five feet. She’s a squat woman, roughly an apple shape, with a voice that makes my eardrums rattle.

“Barnaby!” She calls out my name as if we are long-lost friends. She strides over to the counter and taps it with her long nails. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. ”

I don’t look up from my book. “What do you want?”

She giggles. “Just as prickly as ever. Retract the fangs.” She slaps a paper down on the counter, startling me so much I almost fall off my stool. “I have a wonderful idea for how to open tourist season this year!”

Oh, fabulous. Another Louise Idea.

I let out a weary sigh. “What is it this time?”

“A fair on Main Street! We would close off downtown to everyone but foot traffic, and shops would bring out their best wares and set them up on tables. We’ll have face painting, bobbing for apples, all sorts of fun activities while promoting local businesses!”

I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my nose. “I do not want face painting and apple bobbing anywhere near my books, thank you.” Kids with messy faces and sticky hands are exactly the kind of thing I try to keep far away from my merchandise. When children come into my shop, I watch them like a hawk, and quickly bring out the bleach wipes after they’ve left to clean off any books they touched.

“Well, you don’t have to put your books out if you don’t want to, Barnaby,” Louise says, enthusiasm untainted. “You have cards, and puzzles—all sorts of things for visitors to enjoy! You could even open the other side of the store!”

She speaks like one of those obnoxious travel videos that plays at the hotel. Here are all the fun things to do during your visit to Hallow’s Cove! It makes me want to stab myself in the ear .

I narrow my eyes at her. “I will not open the other side.” It’s too quiet and too dark, with too many fragile memories stored in it. “But... perhaps I will put out a puzzle. And some bookmarks.”

“That’s the spirit,” Louise says brightly. “The idea is to welcome people in, show them the culture, and get a running start to a great tourist season!”

Why does every sentence of hers have to end with an exclamation mark?

“Fucking tourist season,” I mutter as one of the sassy fridge magnets in the impulse buy section catches Louise’s attention. “Nothing but bad traffic and bad customers.”

The only upside to tourist season is it brings in most of the town’s money. Without it, we wouldn’t have much of an economy. I may loathe the sunburned tourists and their sticky offspring, but I’m also a realist, so I do my best to tolerate them since as many of the other residents rely on them to pay the bills.

The mayor tsks at my cursing. “Come now, Barnaby. Tourist season can be fun, too. There are so many new people to meet, and who knows what excitement some stranger might bring into your life?”

I physically flinch at the suggestion. The last thing I need is for some pain-in-my-ass summer tourist to take an interest in me. I’m much too old for that, and far too tired. So fucking tired.

That’s when a new email pops up on the computer with a ding !

“You’ve got a booking!” the subject line reads. I have to read it a few times before I can even remember what it’s about.

Right. I listed the apartment months ago, but nobody’s attempted to rent it yet. The place is rather bare and certainly nothing to look at. The hotels all offer far better accommodations.

Hopefully it’s only for a night or two. I don’t know why I caved to Louise’s bullying and listed the place. It was sitting empty, and eventually she convinced me it was wasteful.

“A month ?” I ask with horror when I open the email and read the dates for the booking. I’m going to have to tolerate another person above my store for a whole month. A complete stranger, crossing paths with me who knows how many times a day? I wish I’d never put that godforsaken rental up.

This is all Louise’s fault. Damn it.

She squeals and claps her hands as she reads the message over my shoulder. I didn’t even notice she’d slipped around my counter.

“A tenant!” the mayor crows, and I glare at her. “That’s great news! That place has been empty for a while, but a long-term visitor? This will be great for you, Barnaby.”

I truly cannot imagine anything worse.