Rain had settled over Bitterroot by the time Camilla reached the bookstore again.

A soft mountain rain. The kind that drifted more than fell, misting the sidewalks silver and turning the old brick roads slick beneath the streetlamps. The windows of Thompson's Bookstore glowed warmly against the gray afternoon, golden light spilling across the wet pavement like an invitation.

Camilla paused beneath the awning for half a second before stepping inside. The little bell above the door chimed softly, warmth wrapped around her instantly. The familiar smells of old paper, tea, and amber incense drifted around her as she unbuttoned her now wet coat. There was the quiet creak of shelves settling somewhere deeper in the store. Ellie looked up from behind the counter immediately, brightening so quickly it almost startled her.

"You came back!"

Camilla slid damp strands of hair behind her ear. "You say that like you expected I wouldn't."

"Well..." Ellie grinned sheepishly. "You have kind of a mysterious drifter vibe."

"A devastating accusation."

"It's true."

Camilla smirked despite herself and shrugged off her jacket. Rainwater dripping onto the floor around her. The bookstore was nearly empty today. A young couple whispered together near the fiction shelves, and Ruth sat at the far end of the counter carefully repairing the spine of an old book with tiny precise movements. Her green eyes lifted the moment Camilla entered, observant as ever.

Camilla gave her a polite smile.

Ruth returned it warmly enough, but there was still that same strange weight behind the older woman's gaze. Like she was perpetually trying to place something just beyond memory.

"You look cold," Ellie said suddenly. "Come hide in the back with me before Gran decides to put you to work alphabetizing."

"I heard that," Ruth called dryly going back to her detailed task.

Ellie grabbed Camilla's wrist before she could respond and tugged her through the maze of shelves toward the hideaway room. The stained-glass window painted the little reading space in soft blues and reds today, rainwater streaking gently down the outside panes. Lamps cast pools of buttery gold over the armchairs and low table. Someone had lit a candle that smelled faintly of bergamot.

Camilla sank into the floral armchair with a quiet exhale she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Ellie noticed immediately.

"Tough day?"

Camilla tilted her head back against the cushions. "You know those days where every person you talk to feels like they're hiding something?"

Ellie snorted softly. "That's just Bitterroot."

Camilla laughed under her breath. Ellie disappeared briefly before returning with a tray balanced carefully in both hands. Tea, honey, and a plate of little powdered cookies were arranged neatly on doilies covering its surface.

"You're spoiling me," Camilla said.

"I'm aggressively Midwestern. It's basically a threat." Ellie huffed and held out a steaming mug. Camilla took the offered mug carefully, warmth soaking immediately into her cold fingers. For a while the room settled into comfortable quiet. Rain tapped softly against stained glass. Somewhere in the shop beyond the hallway, Ruth moved slowly between shelves while an old radio crackled faintly near the register.

It felt...

Safe.

The realization unsettled Camilla more than it should have.

"You're thinking too hard again."

Camilla looked up over the rim of her mug.

Ellie sat curled sideways in the chair opposite her, legs tucked beneath a knitted skirt, tea balanced carefully in both hands.

"You always know when I'm thinking?"

"You get this look."

"What look?"

"Like you're trying to solve a murder."

Camilla smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."

Ellie pointed at her immediately. "See? That."

"What?"

"You smiled."

Camilla blinked once.

"When I said murder," Ellie clarified. "You always smile when people say upsetting things."

Camilla huffed a small laugh into her tea. "Well, I'm always smiling."

"Well yeah," Ellie said. "Which is kinda weird."

The words landed lightly.

Joking.

Warm.

But something inside Camilla went briefly still. Not because Ellie sounded afraid, but because she sounded observant. Camilla lowered her mug carefully. "You think I'm weird?"

Ellie considered that seriously for a moment.

"I think," she said slowly, "you're the kind of person who notices things too much."

Camilla smiled again automatically.

"There," Ellie said immediately, pointing again. "You did it again!"

Camilla laughed despite herself this time, fuller and more genuine than before. "Maybe I just enjoy dramatic conversation."

"Mhm." Ellie narrowed her eyes playfully. "That's definitely not concerning."

Rain rolled softly down the stained glass behind them.

Camilla found herself relaxing inch by inch into the chair.

"So," Ellie said, stirring honey into her tea. "How'd things go with Clay?"

Camilla's eyes drifted toward the ceiling briefly. "Complicated."

"That sounds ominous."

"It usually is."

Ellie pulled a face. "See? Normal people don't say things like that."

Camilla tilted her head. "What do normal people say?"

"I don't know. Stuff like, 'Oh wow, that sure was stressful.'"

"That sounds terrible."

"It's healthy!"

"It sounds dishonest."

Ellie laughed softly again, but her expression shifted slightly afterward. Thoughtful now.

"You really don't scare easy, do you?"

The question settled gently between them.

Camilla looked down into her tea.

The steam curled softly upward.

"No," she admitted quietly.

Ellie studied her carefully across the room.

"That's sad."

Camilla looked up again.

"What is?"

"That."

Ellie shrugged slightly beneath the weight of Camilla's stare. "I don't know. Feels like everybody should be scared of something."

Camilla smiled faintly. "I am."

Ellie blinked. "Really?"

For half a second Camilla almost answered honestly.

Almost.

Instead she leaned back into the chair and crossed one leg slowly over the other.

"Spiders," she deadpanned.

Ellie burst into startled laughter.

"You are such a liar."

"Maybe."

"That smile means yes."

Camilla shook her head softly, unable to stop the warmth pulling at the corners of her mouth now.

It had been a long time since conversation felt this...

Easy.

The thought arrived unwelcome. Camilla glanced toward the rain-streaked stained glass window again. Warmth. Friendship. Kindness. The most dangerous things in the world.

The hallway creaked softly.

Both women looked up as Ruth appeared in the doorway carrying another kettle of tea.

"There you two are," she said. "I was beginning to think the murder club had gone missing."

Ellie groaned immediately. "Gran."

"What?" Ruth smiled serenely as she refilled both mugs. "You've spent the last week discussing dead girls and serial killers."

"That sounds awful when you say it like that."

Ruth's eyes drifted toward Camilla then.

Sharp, ancient, knowing in ways that made Camilla's skin tighten subtly beneath her sweater.

"You listen very carefully," Ruth observed quietly.

Camilla held her gaze easily. "Occupational hazard."

"Mm."

Ruth continued pouring tea.

"You remind me of a fox I used to feed behind the shop years ago."

Ellie blinked. "What?"

Ruth smiled faintly. "Beautiful little thing. Sat very still. Watched everything. Never trusted anybody enough to come close."

Camilla's fingers tightened slightly around her mug.

"And one day?" Ruth continued softly. "I realized it wasn't afraid of me."

Silence settled briefly in the room. Ellie looked between them awkwardly.

"Well," she announced loudly, "that wasn't strange at all."

Ruth chuckled softly and patted Ellie's shoulder before disappearing down the hallway again.

Camilla stared after her.

"That woman is terrifying," she murmured.

Ellie grinned. "Yeah. She kinda rules."

The rain had stopped by the time Camilla finally left the bookstore hours later.

Dusk painted Bitterroot in deep blues and golds as she walked back toward the carriage house apartment. The streets had gone quieter now, storefronts darkening one by one beneath the mountain sky.

Her boots crunched softly against damp gravel as she climbed the stairs to the apartment.

Then she stopped.

A small bundle rested carefully beside her door.

Flowers.

Wildflowers, mostly.

Blue asters, queen Anne's lace, a few sprigs of deep red valerian threaded carefully through the center. No note. No wrapping. Just flowers tied neatly together with plain twine. Camilla stared at them for a long moment. Beautiful. Thoughtful. Not at all expected. Slowly, she bent and picked them up. They smelled faintly of rainwater and floral musk. Her eyes drifted instinctively down the empty street behind her.

Nobody there.

Still watching, though.

She could feel it.