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“Griffin Cole.” I offered my hand. She took it with a grip stronger than I’d expected. “I appreciated your question last night. About anchor tenants.”

“I appreciate someone who doesn’t dismiss questions from people who’ve been here longer than their business plans.” She released my hand and turned to Nora. “How’s the hostage situation?”

“We’re surviving.”

“That’s a start.” Ivy’s attention returned to me. “You’ve done your research on property values and structural assessments. Have you researched the people?”

“I’m learning.”

“Learning is good. Most developers assume they already know.” She pulled a book from the shelf behind her without looking, a hardcover with a cracked spine and gilt lettering. “A history of Holly Creek’s founding families. Published in 1962, out of print since 1978. If you want to understand what you’re working with, this is where to start.”

I accepted the book. It was heavier than it looked. “How much?”

“Consider it a loan. Return it when you’ve read it.” She looked at me over the top of her glasses. “And read it. Don’t just scan for relevant data points.”

“I’ll read every page.”

“Good.” She turned back to Nora. “Pearl was coming down the stairs when she heard you and Griffin arguing about cutting the sleigh rides. She told Mrs. Morrison, who called me in a panic.”

Nora’s glance assigned me my share of the panic. “We’re exploring options that might reduce costs without eliminating the program. Nothing is decided.”

“Make sure it stays that way until you’ve talked to her directly. She’ll fight harder if she feels ambushed.” Ivy took off her glasses. “Trust is harder to rebuild than Main Street.”

We left the bookshop with Ivy’s loan heavy under my arm.

“She likes you,” Nora said as we continued down the sidewalk.

“She handed me homework and implied I lack depth of understanding.”

“For Ivy, that’s practically a warm embrace.” Nora’s lips twitched, but the smile never fully formed. “She’s testing whether you’re serious about learning or just putting on a due-diligence show.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Due diligence ends when the acquisition closes. Learning means you keep asking questions even when the answers are uncomfortable.”

We passed Sweet Provisions, where somebody small had cut paper snowflakes and taped them inside the glass at a height that gave away the child who’d cut them. Pearl spotted us through a gap between the snowflakes and waved. Then she pointed at my hands and fanned herself. Nora answered with an emphatic thumbs-down that made Pearl laugh and turn back to her customers.

Nora’s phone buzzed. She checked the message and shook her head. “Pearl says she’s already told three customers that you found her walk-in’s problem in four minutes. Apparently, accuracy earns an encore.”

“It took four minutes, and I wanted to know if I was right.” I shifted the book to my other arm. “I was right.”

“Pearl’s bakery almost closed three years ago,” she said, quieter now. “Her late husband, Danny, got diagnosed with something that drained their savings. Insurance covered part of it, but the gaps were enough to put them under.”

I waited.

“The merchants organized. You heard about Margaret Ferris reducing Pearl’s rent by forty percent last night. Frank kept her ovens and her plumbing running and never sent a bill. Ivy covered her utilities. I did her books. Colette Brennan owns the flower shop and keeps the merchant association’s volunteer phone tree and meeting notes. She ran a fundraising campaign disguised as a shop-local initiative.”

“Everyone absorbed part of the loss?” I asked.

“The community protected its own.” Nora stopped walking and turned to face me. “That’s what you’re not seeing in your vacancy rates. These shops aren’t islands. They’ve looked out for one another for generations. When one struggles, the others step in.”

“What happens when the network depletes its resources?”

“Then we find new resources. That’s what we’ve always done.”

“And when the new ones run out?”

She didn’t answer. We both knew that was the question.