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could call her when the book came in. As I wrote
War and Remembrance
next to her name, I thought of the soldier I’d promised to find.

Chapter Three ||||||||||
    The Tea and Mystery Afternoons Book Club discussed
The Circular Staircase
peacefully with Jocelyn on her best behavior, perhaps because she considered Maggie’s sister, Karen, to be a guest. But at the Books Before Breakfast meeting a few days later, she started a raging debate about the relevance of the novels written by D. E. Stevenson in general and her wildly popular
Miss Buncle’s Book
, in particular.
    â€œCompared to Stevenson’s Mrs. Tim books, Miss Buncle lacks an element of adventure.” Jocelyn smacked her hand on the book in her lap to emphasize her point.
    â€œWriting under the nom de plume ‘John Smith,’ Miss Buncle published a thinly disguised book about her neighbors. That doesn’t strike you as a daring exploit for a middle-aged spinster?” Ever since Blondie Quinlin had begun accompanying her neighbor Augusta Maddox to the early-morning bookclub, she’d delighted in tweaking Jocelyn’s nose at every possible opportunity.
    â€œWell, I wouldn’t have the nerve.” Lisette Ortiz shook her curly dark hair.
    Irene Lester, the newest member, leaned over and patted Lisette on the arm. “You’re far from middle-aged, honey, and I doubt you’ll ever be a spinster.”
    Irene slid her reading glasses down from her forehead and opened her book. “You’ve only to look at the description of Silverstream in the first couple of pages. That bakery woman—ah, here she is—Mrs. Goldsmith, knows the morning breakfast habits of the entire village. Do you really think anything goes on in the village that everyone doesn’t know? And while living in that atmosphere Miss Buncle chose to write a book with characters based on the local residents. I call that brave. And the book was funny. I love humor now and again. Anyway, I have a hair appointment. Can we choose next month’s book?”
    I sat back and let the clubbies wrestle among themselves until they narrowed down to two books. Most heads nodded when Lisette mentioned a fairly new Nora Roberts book,
The Collector.
Irene suggested that the eternally classic
O Pioneers!
, written by Willa Cather more than a century ago, still had a lot to offer.
    Jocelyn snapped, “Willa Cather belongs at the Classic Book Club, not here.”
    I jumped in for the rescue. “Over the past few months the Classic Club has become more of a Teen Club with Maggie Latimer’s daughter Holly and some of her friends. And Books Before Breakfast is the one club that has no theme. We read whatever strikes our fancy.”
    I beamed what I hoped was a gigawatt smile.
    I was saved from having Jocelyn jump on me by Bridgy, who called me over to the counter.
    She was talking to an attractive mid-twentyish woman dressed in what could have passed for a uniform of some sort. Her white man-tailored shirt, complete with button-down collar, was tucked neatly into a black pencil skirt. And, rather than the open-toed sandals that were de rigueur all over the island, she wore black low-heeled pumps. I wondered what she was trying to sell, and I guessed Bridgy wanted my opinion on whether or not we should consider buying.
    I was still a few feet away when Bridgy started introductions.
    â€œElaine Tibor, this is Sassy Cabot, co-owner of the Read ’Em and Eat. Sassy, Elaine is a graduate student at FSU and waits tables during the dinner shift at the country club. Schedule permitting, she’s looking for an occasional breakfast or lunch shift to supplement. You know how grad school goes.”
    I remembered well.
    Elaine took a quick step to cover the distance between us and reached out to give my hand a strong and confident shake. She had a self-assured, personable way about her, which made me think she’d relate well to the customers. When I said