Page 4 of Firefly Nights

She startles at my voice but doesn't retreat. Progress, maybe. "I've never seen so many at once."

"Peak season." I move closer, careful not to break whatever spell the evening's woven around her. "They like it here because of the long grass and the stream running behind those trees. Good breeding ground."

"Trust you to know the practical explanation." But there's no bite in her words, just gentle amusement. "Can't you just enjoy the magic of it?"

"Says the woman who cross-references her folklore collection by countryandcreature type."

"That's different." She watches a firefly drift past, its light reflecting in her eyes. "Books need order. Some things..." She gestures to the meadow, where more tiny lights bloom with each passing minute. "Some things should just be wonderful."

I study her profile in the fading light, the way wonder softens all her careful edges. "Yes," I say quietly. "Some things should."

She glances at me, catching something in my tone. A flush spreads across her cheeks. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Had to check the drainage around the foundation." A half-truth. "Library that old, you have to look at the whole picture."

"And what's the picture telling you?"

"That sometimes the most important parts of a building aren't in the blueprints." The words come out more honest than I intended. "Sometimes you have to wait for the right light to see what needs fixing."

A firefly lands on her sleeve, and Grace goes perfectly still, like she's afraid of startling it. "Not everything needs to be fixed," she whispers.

"No." I reach over slowly, carefully, and the firefly walks onto my finger. "But some things are worth trying for."

We stand there, watching the small light pulse between us. Grace's shoulder brushes mine as she leans closer to see, and Icatch the scent of old books and lavender. It's not a combination I ever thought would knock me sideways.

"I used to pretend they were fairies," she admits, the words barely a breath. "When I was little. Gran would bring me out here with a jar, but I could never bear to catch them. It felt wrong to trap something so..." She trails off, embarrassed.

"Magical?" I offer, letting the firefly take flight. It rises to join its companions, painting light trails through the twilight.

"You're making fun of me."

"I'm really not." I turn to face her fully. "You see magic in everything, Grace. Books, fireflies, this old library that everyone else wrote off as a lost cause. It's..." Beautiful. Baffling. Completely disarming. "It's different."

She looks up at me, really looks, and for a moment I think she might say something more. But another firefly drifts between us, breaking whatever was building in that pause.

"I should go," she says, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's getting dark."

"Want company back to your car?"

"I walked. I'm just over on Maple Street."

"Then let me walk you home." When she hesitates, I add, "Consider it part of my civic duty. Protecting the town's librarian from rogue fireflies and leaky roofs."

That earns me a smile, small but real. "You're ridiculous."

"You like it."

She shakes her head, but falls into step beside me as we leave the meadow behind.

Chapter Three

Grace

"Everything okay over there?" I call out, unable to completely hide my concern for the books I'd carefully relocated to a supposedly safe distance. Another crash from the reference section is followed by what sounds suspiciously like cursing.

So much for my peaceful morning. The distinctive whir of power tools has been shattering the library's quiet for the past hour, and I'm starting to question the wisdom of letting Nathan start the new shelving installation at nine in the morning.

"Just peachy." Nathan's head appears around the corner, a fine dust coating his dark hair. "Though I've got to ask—why do you have three different editions ofThe Complete Works of Shakespearewithin arm's reach of each other?"

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