Page 93 of The Cupid Chronicles

“Not always,” I say. “Once it had me match a person with a building.”

She looks up from her phone. “Explain.”

“The newspaper gave me some riddle about a single mom with this great business idea,” I say, remembering it so clearly because it was one of my first attempts at doing what the paper wanted me to do. “She was a frequent customer at the restaurant, and I overheard her talking to Nicola about wanting to open a boozy bookstore.”

She laughs. “A boozy bookstore? That’s a thing?”

“I guess?”

She smirks, then a realization hits her. “Wait. There’s a bookstore near your restaurant. Is that?—”

I nod. “The next day, the newspaper led me to a space that was about to go on the market, and now we have Books and Brews just a couple of blocks away from the restaurant.”

“That’scrazy,” Iris marvels. “So, it’s like, anything goes.”

“Pretty much.” I take a sip of coffee. “And sometimes—most times—it only gives you half the story.”

“But why? Why not just spell it out?”

“Honestly? Because I think it makes you pay closer attention. It’s almost likeyou’recoming up with the answers, making you more part of it.” Her phone buzzes in her hand, pulling her attention. She clicks around on it for a few seconds, eyes scanning whatever text or email has just come through.

“No. Way,” she says, incredulous.

“What?”

She flips the phone around so I can see her screen. On it is an email with the subject line:New job posting: Music Teacher—Spring Brook Elementary.

“Two hours ago, I would’ve just deleted this,” she says. “But because of that little comment the R-sister made . . .”

“You want to show it to Joy.”

She nods, excited. “It makes sense, right? Is this how it works? This is it, right?”

I think about it for a second. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. Sometimes more detailed. Other times, less.”

“Sonothingthat happens anymore is just coincidence. It’s all part of a plan.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

She pauses. “So . . . why did your newspaper come to my door, then?”

I look at her—her big eyes, her endearing face—and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a long-buried feeling.

She’s part of the plan for you, Matteo.

Whoa. That thought dropped into my head without permission.

Thankfully she answers her own question. “Oh, duh. It’s so you can show me all the tricks, then pass the mantle on to me.”

I breathe an inward sigh of relief. It’s been my working theory all along, but when she says it, I’m hit with a twinge of disappointment.

“Okay, so what are some things the magic has had you do?” She clicks her phone again, presumably to get back to the note she’s started.

“It had me hire Dante,” I say. “After he tried to steal money from our register.”

Iris’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“We’d only been open about a year, and Bear caught him and called the cops. The next day, I got a newspaper that had some cryptic message about a kid who’d gotten in trouble but who didn’t need tough love. He needed a second chance.” I shrug. “It took me a little while to decipher it because I was planning to press charges. Instead, thanks to the newspaper, I gave him a job as a dishwasher. Now, he’s part of the family.”

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