Once we’re finally on our way to Bainbridge, I take out the 1967 playlist my dad made for us. I set my phone up to work with Rune’s stereo and hit play. The first song up is The Monkees Daydream Believer.

“Granty loved this song,” Rune tells Lorelei in the back seat.

Of course, Lorelei has no idea who The Monkees are. As she looks them up on her phone, we tell her as much as we can remember about the fake American rock band that was made up for a TV show to try and cash in on the success of The Beatles.

“They were a little like an old-fashioned Hannah Montana,” Rune tells her.

“Hannah Montana’s old-fashioned,” Lorelei laughs.

“Ouch,” Rune winces dramatically.

“Well, she is!” Lorelei retorts, “You’re old fashioned too; you’re thirty-two, almost thirty-three!”

“And feeling every moment of it right now,” Rune tells her, “Thank you, Pup.”

“I’m even older,” I admit, “I’m an ancient thirty-four.

“I thought you were younger,” Lorelei says, “You don’t have as many wrinkles around your eyes as Rune does.”

“Oh, double ouch!” Rune exclaims as Lorelei, and I giggle conspiratorially.

“I guess my expensive face oil isn’t doing its job,” Rune laments, “Do I need to stop at Sephora on the way for some eye cream?”

“You’re not that vain,” Lorelei admonishes him, “You’ve just been super stressed.”

“Yes, I have,” Rune admits, “But I’m getting better. We both are,” he says, giving her a pointed look in the rearview mirror.

“Yes,” she agrees and squeezes his shoulder.

I get why Lorelei’s stressed; she’s getting a new stepmom she’s not looking forward to. But why is Rune? I guess the mix of his mom’s death, being fired from a film, and dating so many beautiful models you can’t keep their names straight could do that to you.

“Lorelei, since you’re kind enough to let me borrow Rune for a few hours tonight,” I say, “how about if I make it up to you with a trip to the library next week?”

“The library?” she asks, sounding confused.

“It’s this crazy old-fashioned technology,” Rune chimes in, “They let you borrow books for free.”

“I know what a library is; Granty took me to them all the time,” Lorelei retorts, “I just didn’t think we had one around here.”

“There’s one in Kingston, but there’s a bigger one near downtown Poulsbo I like to go to, too,” I tell her.

“But you have to have a library card, don’t you?” she clarifies.

“I have one,” I tell her, “We’ll use mine and sign you up for one. We should come up with a list of books you want now so I can order them, and they can have them ready.”

“I want a book on Sybil Luddington if they have one,” she tells me. I open my phone to take notes.

“We need another copy of Howl’s Moving Castle, I’m not done with your copy yet, and I think Lorelei should read it,” Rune says, “especially if you might immortalize me as Howl,” he throws me a sly, self-satisfied glance much like the wizard in question.

“What’s Howl’s Moving Castle?” Lorelei asks.

“One of Granty’s favorite fantasy books,” he tells her, “She gave it to me and Shelby to read the last summer we were up here together.”

I glance at him sideways, surprised he remembers. I’m usually the one with the elephant memory.

“It’s also a beautiful, animated film you should watch,” I tell her.

“I’d love to,” she starts, then says, “Wait, are you going to draw Rune as a character in the story? That would be so cool.”

“Maybe,” I tell her, opening my Instagram to check on how the voting’s going. Wow. I now have over one hundred votes for Howl. This is fun, “So far, Jaimie Campbell Bower is in the lead according to my follower’s votes.”

“Let me see!” She asks eagerly, reaching for my phone, “You’re in third place, Rune,” she tells him after studying my post for a few moments, “not bad for being retired.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Shouldn’t I have a home-court advantage or something?” Rune asks. Is he actually into this idea? Is Theo, right?

“I think he should,” Lorelei agrees, “Will you make him wear the earrings?” She must be looking at images from the animated film of Howl’s on YouTube.

“Yes, but in the book, he only wears one,” I tell her.

“It’s so 80s,” Rune laughs, “and he wears enchanted robes that help him charm women. A useful tool, that.”

“I’m a little frightened at how similar the two of you are,” I tell him. He smiles cheekily at me, “Though, to be fair, it’s Sophie who accidentally enchants his robe.”

“I haven’t gotten to that part yet,” he admits, “So, is this library adventure a girls’ day out, or am I allowed to tag along?” Rune asks after we’ve gone back and forth on more book ideas for Lorelei.

“Well….” Lorelei ponders, “I think we should allow him to come, Shelby, but only if he buys us lunch at Grandpa’s favorite diner in downtown Poulsbo.”

“The one decorated like the 1950s?” I ask.

“Yes!” She cheers, “They have excellent milkshakes.”

“That’s a hard bargain, but considering the books at the library are free, I think I can swing it,” Rune tells us.

**

After dropping Lorelei off at her friend Charlotte’s house, Rune and I are navigating our way to the fundraiser. Like all this region, the island is lushly green, hilly, and woodsy.

Following the directions on my phone, we’re winding our way through bucolic country lanes, passing paddocks with cows, goats, and the occasional horse, as well as impressive, well-appointed homes. It’s an interesting mix.

It couldn’t be a more perfect day. It feels like we’re on a vacation. Like we’re on our way to some sort of camping trip in the mountains, or considering how we’re dressed, some kind of rustic but glamorous lodge.

“Do you remember the fairy tale East of the Sun, West of the Moon?” Rune asks, interrupting my fantasy life. He’s referring to a well-known folktale in which an ordinary but brave young woman is the one who saves the prince.

“Yes, I’ve read a few novels inspired by it,” I tell him, “And there are some gorgeous 1914 Kay Nielsen illustrations created for it.”

“Really? Will you add any favorite versions to your library list and send me links to the illustrations?”

“Sure, why?”

“Did you know it’s Norwegian?”

“Hello, fellow Norwegian here,” I remind him.

He laughs, “Yes, but at least you have some Italian blood to make you spicy. I’m 100% white bread.”

“Hey, you’re half something else, too,” I say, realizing I don’t remember him ever discussing his father. I knew as a kid not to bring him up.

“English,” he says shortly, “my dad’s English, complete with a snotty pedigree and a good dollop of Finnish.”

“Are you in touch with him?” I ask. I only remember that Rune’s mom and dad never married. My mom used this as one of the excuses why hanging out with Rune between summer vacations wasn’t a good idea. For some reason, neither she nor my dad were keen on my sister or me hanging out with friends who had single parents.

“Normally, he ignores my existence, but he’s helping me with a project right now. It turns out being nominated for an Emmy gave me some cache.”

“Oh. That’s right. I’m sorry I forgot about that,” I tell him, which is true and embarrassing. I totally forgot he’d been nominated for an Emmy for playing Greg Allman.

“Well, my nomination was during the pandemic, and you were focused on other things,” he points out.

“True,” I say, and then, because I don’t want to be sad or dig more, “Why did you bring up East of the Sun, West of the Moon?”

“My mom and I were brainstorming on more immersive storytelling to bring fairytales to life online, and she loved that one. She wanted to make sure we included old stories with female heroes.”

“Why do you say storytelling? Don’t you mean TV or movies?"

“Not necessarily, though we didn’t count them out,” he tells me, “We were thinking of more interactive websites and with audio and some video content. Stuff that’s much less expensive and quicker to produce.”

“That’s an interesting idea,” I say, intrigued, and then realize I need to pay attention to where we’re going, “Turn right at the next street and we’re almost there. We just need to find someplace to park on the street.”

Rune slows down when the sides of this narrow lane become filled with cars. He has to stop and back up to find a spot.

I want to know more about his storytelling platform idea, but first, I ask, “Do you like producing more than acting?”

“In some ways, especially if I’m directing too,” he says as he expertly maneuvers his SUV into a space.

I hide my surprise. I had no idea he’d ever directed anything. I make a mental note to look up what he’s done while I check my reflection in my compact to ensure my elaborate eye makeup hasn’t smudged.

Rune exits the car and removes the brown velvet jacket from the back seat. I hide a smile as I get out, watching as he slips it on and checks his reflection in the car’s side window as he buttons it. He charmed Marguerite into doing a quick tailoring job on it for him to make sure it fit perfectly, of course.

“I don’t hate acting; it’s just that the whole being famous and having little privacy thing becomes such a grind,” he says as he slips the straps of both cameras over his head.

“Is it going to be a problem when people recognize you tonight?” I ask as another layer of dread builds. In my obsessing about seeing Jack with Amy tonight and then my outfit, I hadn’t even considered Rune as a celebrity being an issue.

“No, and they probably won’t,” he reassures me with a smile that makes me forget for a moment anything about Jack, “It’s not like Los Angeles or New York, where everyone’s on the constant lookout for celebrities. You’d be surprised how few people recognize me without sandy blonde hair, blue contacts, and a spray tan.”

“You wore spray tans?” I ask in disbelief as we start walking toward our destination. He never admitted this when we were younger.

“Frequently,” Rune says as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

We make our way down the long narrow tree-lined street of large lots with fancy houses. The street curves slightly and there at the end a tall, well-tended hedge and estate gates come into view at the end of the street.

The closer we get, the more fairy-tale-like they appear. This would be a perfect shot for Rune’s storytelling platform idea. The hedge is almost two stories tall. The iron gates aren’t only tall, but so elaborately wrought that they seem like they came from an ancient French chateau. We could be entering a film set for Beauty and the Beast.