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my bike’s carrier basket and rode to the hospital, where a nurse
told me that Mr. Goran wasn’t allowed any visitors.
    “Can you make sure he gets these?” I asked, holding out my bouquet.
    The nurse took them and smelled them. “They’re pretty,” she said. “They’ll look lovely
beside the plant he received.”
    “Someone else sent something?” I was glad to hear that. It meant that not everyone
felt the way Carol had been hinting they did.
    “Not sent. Dropped off,” the nurse said. “Too bad she didn’t include a card so I
could tell him who they’re from.”
    “So he’s awake now?”
    “I’m afraid not. His son is in with him now.”
    I was glad to hear that too. I left my name so that when the time came, the nurse
could tell Mr. Goran I’d been there.
    Before heading home, I stopped by the supermarket I’d spotted on my way into town.
The cashier at the checkout was a flaming redhead (dyed, I think), about my age.
Her name tag read Ashleigh .
    “You live here in town?” I asked.
    “Yeah.” She punched in a code for a container of strawberries. “What about you? Tourist?”
    “New kid in town.”
    She glanced up from her scanner. “Where from?”
    I told her.
    “Poor you,” she said. “For being dragged here, I mean. I can’t wait to graduate high
school so I can leave.”
    “It can’t be that bad.”
    She snorted. “Spoken like someone who wasn’t born here in Tinytown.” She punched
in codes for cantaloupe, grapes and apples. “I guess you’ll be going to Lyle, huh?”
    “Lyle?”
    “L.S. Murcheson Comprehensive. The high school. The L stands for Lyle. He was, like,
the first mayor here or something.”
    She rang up my tomatoes, cucumber, peppers and lettuce and told me the grand total.
I dug out the grocery money Aunt Ginny had left me.
    “You know, if you want good local veggies, you should try the market on Wednesdays
and Saturdays at the beach.”
    “Market?”
    “It’s a combination flea market and farmers’ market. Everything there is picked the
same day, and it tastes a lot better than the imported stuff this place stocks. But
don’t tell anyone I said so.” She grinned at me.
    “Thanks for the tip.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Riley.”
    “Riley.” I guess she approved, because she smiled. “There’s a beach party every Saturday
night. The kids around here all go. You interested? I mean, you’re going to have
to meet the local dweebs sooner or later. You might as well get the lay of the land
before school starts. You can come with me. I get off at nine on Saturday.”
    “Okay. Sure.” Why not?
    “Meet me here.” She grinned and started to ring in another order.

FIVE
    The doorbell rang while I was making a salad to go with supper. It was Aram, holding
a basket filled with vegetables.
    “These are from my father’s farm,” he said. “To thank you.”
    “Thank me? What for?”
    “For the flowers. And for calling the fire department the night of the fire.”
    Someone must have told him.
    “While I was waiting to see my father, I picked up an old newspaper. You were in
it.”
    Oh.
    “If it hadn’t been for you, he might have died in that barn.”
    “I just did what anyone would have done in my place.”
    He gave me an odd look but didn’t say anything more about the fire. Instead he said,
“Where would you like me to put this?”
    “I can take it.”
    He shook his head. “It’s heavy.”
    “Okay. You can put it in the kitchen.” I led the way.
    He set the basket down on the kitchen counter. “There is so much produce ripening
in the fields and gardens. I don’t know what to do with it. At least this lot won’t
go to waste.”
    “What was your father going to do with it?”
    “I’ve been looking at what records I can find. As far as I can see, he trucks most
of it into the city. There are farmers’ markets in different locations every day
of the week. But I don’t want to be away every day. I want to be here until I know
if he