4
Xzanthia Nicholas was one of my favorite people in Octonia, and not just because she loved me. She was a no-nonsense woman whose kindness ran as deep and strong as her backbone. When I walked into the historical society offices that were just up the street from Mika’s shop, she greeted me warmly with a hug and then a stern, “You have not been here enough, Ms. Historian. We need each other.”
I blushed. She was right. I’d been so busy with parenting and my business that I’d not done a lot of the history work I needed to do, the work I loved to do. “I’m sorry,” I said as I hugged her again and breathed in the warm scent of the coconut oil she used on her chestnut skin. “You’re right. Today, though, I have some big-time history for us to do if you have a few minutes.”
Ms. Nicholas did her
