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“Give ya a hundred.”

Ignoring him, Xander turned to Hannah. “Some museum historian read about the sale in the PortlandPress Herald. Is that your doing?”

She nodded, watching carefully for his reaction.

He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Thanks, Hannah. He’s sending an expert up tomorrow to appraise all the penny arcade games. Turns out some collectors will pay a fortune, even for the broken ones.”

“Glad to hear it. Isn’t that the one with the belly dancer? Bet you’ll get a pretty penny for her.”

“From your lips to God’s ear. Emma, we need more bags.”

“On it, Captain.” A teen wearing a Souvenir Planet hoodie saluted and trotted toward the back. Hannah laughed. “Captain?”

“She’s been calling me Captain Kirk all day. It’s getting old.”

“Why not take it as a compliment? Kirk was a total hottie.”

With a grunt, he handed over a UFO soap dish for wrapping. “Don’t you have something more newsworthy to cover?”

“In Trappers Cove? This is about as newsworthy as it gets—unless we have a repeat of the storm of eighty-seven.”

“Hush your mouth, girl.” Cassie, owner of the breakfast café, set her selections on the counter. “Don’t rile up the weather gods.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “If you’re aiming to buy anything, better get to it. These tourists are cleaning the place out like piranhas on a cow.”

“Go on.” Xander lifted his whiskered chin toward the melee. “Get while the getting’s good.”

“Sounds like something Gus would say.” Laughing, she scooted around the counter and joined the fray, stopping here and there to snap photos, interview shoppers, and fill her shopping basket with souvenirs: a fridge magnet with an alien kissing a mermaid, a sexy merman mug for mom, a bag of pecan fudge, and a “Greetings from Planet Xormak” T-shirt, size XXL, to sleep in.

Bittersweet emotions swirled in her chest as she drank in her last look at Souvenir Planet. Mom was right: change is inevitable, but whatever Xander did with the place, she hoped he’d keep its wacky, eclectic vibe.

After ringing up her purchases, she fought her way through the crowd, now tripled in size, for a breath of fresh air. Outside his bakery, Garrett had set up a table where he offered coffee, hot cocoa, and cupcakes topped with green alien faces. She ordered a coffee, then surveyed the stuffed parking lot, noting license plates from Oregon, British Columbia, and even California.

A moment later, Xander staggered up, adorably disheveled with wild curls and his shirt half untucked. He grasped the table like a drowning man clinging to a buoy. “Coffee, I’m begging you.”

Chuckling, Garrett poured him an extra-tall cup and proffered a cupcake. “You need this, brother.”

Xander pulled a sour face. “Got anything without aliens?”

“Oh, hush.” Hannah bumped him with her hip. “Isn’t this great?”

Xander blew on his cup. “Those people are crazed. I caught one guy trying to chisel graffiti off the bathroom wall.”

“Okay, that’s a little extreme. But remember, when you re-open, they’ll be back to see what you’ve done with the place. Gus left you more than a building—he left you passionate customers. Look.” She pointed to a minivan rolling into the lot. “They drove out from Idaho!”

A multi-generation family tumbled out of the van, each clad in Souvenir Planet T-shirts. The littlest one aimed a plastic ray gun as he passed. “Pew pew! I’m a alien.”

Xander huffed. “I’m trying to turn this freak show into a respectable business. How am I gonna do that with customers like these?”

Was he really that dense and hard-headed? She planted her fists on her hips. “Xander Anagnos, if you can’t see the potential here, you’re as shallow as a puddle. Gus must be rolling in his grave.”

He glared back, just as stubborn. She’d met her match in this handsome Greek. “Listen, I loved Gus, but it’s my shop now. I steer this ship.”

“You’re gonna run aground if you ignore Souvenir Planet’s place in the TC…” She flapped a hand overhead— “galaxy.”

Xander’s voice rose to an outraged squawk. “It’s a freakin’ souvenir shop selling plastic crap and hokey T-shirts and—”

One of the teen helpers jogged over. “Mr. A, there’s a big-ass line of people waiting to send messages to outer space.”

Hannah fought a smug grin. “I’m not gonna say I told you so, but…”