Summer 2026

In the spring letter, I wrote about things becoming visible. This season, they've done something better than that. They've arrived.

The trilogy we've been carrying for years—Where the Dirge Plays—is complete, and all three books are out in the world. Second Half Compass, which we spent months building quietly, has opened its doors. And in August, we release the book that means more to me than anything we've published: a novel called The Magic, written as a retirement gift for Laurie.

I keep noticing that the things we make for one person are the things that end up traveling farthest. The Cake Doctor began as a birthday gift and became our best-selling novel—it's now been reviewed by more than fifty readers. The Magic began the same way: one story, for one person, about the thing she loves. We'll see where it goes. But it's already done the only job it was ever asked to do.

Laurie remains at the center of all of it—editing, steadying, and occasionally reminding me that not everything needs to launch in the same month. She's usually right. We do it anyway.

— Robert
(with Laurie, always)

Every so often, a book comes along that a publisher has to be honest about: this one is personal.

When Laurie retired, I wanted to give her something that no one else could. She and I share a slightly ridiculous, completely wonderful hobby—Disney pin trading—and somewhere in the middle of all those trades, a story started forming. About wonder. About what we pass between us when we think we're just trading small things.

Some stories take everything you have, and then ask for a little more. This trilogy is that story—and after years of writing, revising, and living inside it, all three books are finished and available now.

All three books are available now in ebook and audiobook—individually, or as a bundle for readers who want to walk the whole road at once. The complete trilogy lives on its own page at the site.

The Cake Doctor continues to be our best-selling novel, and the reviews arriving each month say things we never could have said ourselves—about grandmothers' cookbooks, about recipes that carry intention, about reading the whole thing in one sitting with a box of tissues nearby. If it hasn't found you yet, it's still waiting.

Alongside the summer launches, two bodies of work are moving through their final stages—publication and audio production—and both are close to our hearts:

Both will be available directly through the site, and there is already more there to discover than one letter can hold—tools, reflections, and a few quiet corners we've built for the readers who like to wander. Browse slowly. Some things find you before you find them.

Every book and membership purchased this year moves the Glimpse Library closer to being real and sustainable—not an occasional gesture, but a lasting structure. We're building it carefully, and we're building it to endure.

If you're affiliated with a hospice program, hospital, or rural library, we'd still love to hear from you. Your perspective will help us build this well.