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CHAPTER ONE

An Invitation

Mimi wheeled her canvas shopping cart behind her as she walked briskly into town. She had to hurry and get to Doud's for a sourdough before they closed. It was a chilly autumn afternoon, and Mackinac Island was humming with bicyclists and sightseers. Walking had always been her favorite stimulant. Even on days when she didn't have a particular destination in mind, nothing felt more liberating than a bracing constitutional around her little island home in the Great Lakes. She cherished how Mackinac's ban on cars (strictly enforced since 1898) kept away codger types who drove around in Cadillacs and droned on about their sleep apnea and hip replacements.

"Rosemary, hey! Wait up. Rosemary!"

Mimi quickened her pace as she walked past the hardware store. Anyone calling her by her given name, Rosemary, didn't know her very well. There was no need to look back, anyway. It was Herb. The smells of floor polish and paint thinner hovered in a cloud around him wherever he went.

"C'mon, Rosemary! Wait up!"

She rolled her eyes as she halted and spun around. "I can't, Herb. No time today." Why did people always try to wheedle themselves inside her quiet little world? That's why she liked her bridge group. They respected her privacy. None of that "sitting around drinking wine and baring your soul" kind of nonsense.

Herb caught up to her, huffing and puffing. His chambray shirt, emblazoned with a Hi! I'm Herb! How can I help? name tag, was stained with little continents of sweat.

 

"Just wanted to talk to you about your geraniums. Before it's too late for them."

Mimi heaved a sigh. "I understand the concept of deadheading, Herb."

Herb laughed nervously and held up his hands. "Hey now, no need to snap my head off." He paused to give her a wink. "Just wanted to remind you that since it's been a mild fall, the geraniums are still going strong, so be sure to keep that deadheading going until we get a hard freeze." He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "And, should you require a new pair of gardening shears, they happen to be fifty percent off this week, but I'm making it sixty percent off for friends."

"Okay." She nodded. "I'll stop by tomorrow and get a pair. For fifty percent off."

Mimi continued down Main Street, her shoes brushing through a confetti of autumn leaves on the sidewalk. Their earthy aroma reminded her that the thousands of visitors who flocked to Mackinac for seasonal events like the Fudge Festival would soon be gone. Only a few hundred islanders, who stayed year-round, would remain, and the price of a cup of coffee would drop by half.

When she reached the familiar sign above Doud's—Welcome to America's Oldest Grocery Store—she hustled inside and headed toward the bakery. There was one solitary sourdough waiting for her in the display case, next to a box of glazed donuts. She reached out to take it just as another woman's hand reached for it too, bumping into hers.

"Oh!" said the owner of the hand.

Mimi gave her the once-over. A young tourist with a bouncy ponytail. "Didn't see you there," Ponytail added, with a shrug.

Mimi stepped in front of her, seized the loaf, and placed it firmly into her cart. She smiled brightly, then turned around and headed for the deli meats. Ponytail would be fine. She had decades of warm sourdoughs ahead of her.

On her way back down the street, Mimi turned onto the wooden walkway that led up to the colonnaded entrance of the Mackinac Island Public Library. Her footsteps matched the rhythmic click-clack of her shopping cart as it bumped along behind her. The jingle of the door announced her arrival, and her friend Pam looked up from her post behind the circulation desk.

Mimi paused to admire the latest display of books. Classics That Will Make You Weep. Kleenex boxes with Boo-hoo! and Sniffle! written on them were being used as bookends.

"Did it catch your eye? I was proud of that one."

"It's another Pam original," said Mimi, approaching the desk and placing her return in the drop slot.