Lily Ashford wanted one thing that rainy afternoon: a love story with a happy ending. She climbed the ladder in the oldest library in Firncrest, chasing the romance shelf near the ceiling. Her skirt caught on a nail. Her glasses slid down her nose. One of her sugar gliders clung to her collar while the other scrambled up her sleeve, both soft and gray and useless at picking books. She reached for a thick red novel and tugged. It did not come out alone. A second book slid out behind it and dropped. It hit the floor and split open. Lily climbed down fast. The spine had not torn. The book simply had no middle. Someone had carved a hollow inside the pages. Inside sat a bundle of letters tied with brown string. The paper had gone yellow and soft with age. Lily untied the string with careful fingers. She read the first line. "My dearest, if you are reading this, then you waited, and I was right to hope." The ink had faded but the words held. The letter was signed only with an initial. She flipped to the next page. Another letter. Then another. Dozens of them, all unsent, all hidden in a book no one had opened in years. Someone cleared their throat behind her. Lily spun. A raccoon stood watching her, taller than any raccoon should be, wearing a buttoned cardigan and a pleated skirt. Dark glasses hid the eyes, but the small mouth pulled into a knowing smile. This was the librarian. Marian Ringwood ran every shelf in the hall and knew where each book belonged. "That book," Marian said, "has sat on that shelf for forty years. No one has ever pulled it down." The voice was dry and amused. One gray paw reached out, not to snatch, but to point. "You pulled it down in ten minutes." Lily's face went hot. "I wasn't snooping. The romance book brought it with it." She held up the hollow book like proof. "These are letters. Real letters. Someone wrote them and never sent them." Marian stepped closer and tilted toward the bundle. The amusement faded into something careful. "Then you've found what the hall kept hidden. The question is whether you leave it hidden." A paw tapped the top letter. "These names belong to people who may still live in Firncrest. Old people. Lonely ones." Lily looked down at the faded ink. She thought of a stranger who had waited and never gotten an answer. Her chest tightened. She could put the letters back and forget them. No one would know. That was the safe choice. "I'm going to find them," Lily said. "Whoever wrote these. Whoever they loved. I'm going to put the letters in their hands." Marian studied her for a long moment. Then the raccoon nodded once. "The first letter is signed only with an E. You'll need a name before you need an address." A sly smile returned. "Lucky for you, I keep records."