Evan had come to return a borrowed book. By the time the garden lights came on, his back wheel was bent and an unfamiliar car was waiting at the gate.

Evan led the bicycle to the far end of the drive. He could hear the music through the open windows. He was looking for a place to leave the book where it would stay dry.

At the gate a woman stepped out of the car. She set a bundle of newspapers on the hood and asked whether he could wait a moment. She had recognized the little brass bell on the handlebars.

The bell belonged to her brother once. Evan had repaired it at the bike shop on Birch Street, and that was where she had intended to go tomorrow. Instead, they found themselves standing in the dark with one wheel that wouldn’t turn.