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... jingle. Mike was standing behind the counter, arranging pastries into neat rows. He looked up as soon as I walked in and smiled at me.

"Morning, Fiona," he said warmly.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and immediately felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry if I’m late—"

"You’re not," he interrupted, shaking his head. "Relax. You’re right on time."

Relieved, I nodded and headed toward the back where I’d seen the cubbies yesterday. I dropped my bag and books in one of the ...

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