“There’s some left. I’ll bring it to the next harvest festival meeting.” “Ah yes, the harvest festival committee.” Alex’s dumb face slips into something smug. “I heard you volunteered to help Nova with her business visits.” “Where did you hear that?” Alex shrugs. “The phone tree.” Goddamn it. I knew it. I slap both hands on the counter. I knock over a cup of pens and a haphazard stack of novelty Post-it notes. “Why the hell am I not getting phone tree messages?” Alex picks up his book and flips through the pages, trying to find his place. He dog-ears the corners every time he stops, like an
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