Excerpt from The Serpent King by Jeff Zentner, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Nothing. Just hey. You're being so quiet."

"Don't have much to say today. Thinking."

They crossed over the river into East Nashville and drove past coffee shops and restaurants until they pulled up to a restored Craftsman- style bungalow. A hand- painted sign out front said attic. Lydia parked. Travis reached for his staff.

Lydia raised a finger in warning. "Do not."

They walked in, but not before she had Dill take a picture of her standing next to the sign, and another of her leaning on the wide porch.

The shop smelled of old leather, wool, and denim. An air conditioner purred, pumping out cool air with a whiff of clean mildew. Fleetwood Mac played over hidden speakers. The wood floor creaked under them. A pretty, bohemian- looking strawberry blonde in her twenties sat behind a glass counter display full of handmade jewelry, staring intently at her laptop screen. She looked up as they approached.

"Okay, I love your look. How hot are you, seriously?" she said to Lydia.

Lydia curtsied. "Why thank you, madam shopkeeper. How hot are you, seriously?" Lydia gave Dill a look that said Try to get this kind of treatment at stupid Opry Mills Mall.

"Are you guys looking for anything in particular today?"

Lydia grabbed Dill by the arm and pushed him in front of her.

"Clothes. Duds. Britches. That will fit this guy and make women swoon across Tennessee's Cumberland Plateau region."

Dill averted his eyes. "Let's maybe focus on the fitting part for now, Lydia," he said through clenched teeth.

The woman gasped. "My parents almost named me Lydia. They went with April."

"Lead the way, Miss April," Lydia said. "I see you have an excellent and well-curated selection."

Dill went in and out of the dressing room while Travis sat on a creaky wooden chair and read, lost to the world. Lydia was in her element, seldom happier than when playing dress-up with Dill, her own little fashion charity project.

Lydia handed Dill another shirt. "We need some clothes-trying-on-montage music— 'Let's Hear It for the Boy' or something. And at one point you come out of the dressing room wearing a gorilla costume or something, and I shake my head immediately."

Dill pulled on the shirt, buttoned it up, and studied himself in the mirror. "You watch way too many movies from the eighties."

Eventually they had a stack of shirts, jeans, a denim jacket lined with sheepskin, and a pair of boots.

"I love vintage shopping with you, Dill. You have the body of a seventies rock star. Everything looks good on you." Mental note: in college, any boyfriends should have Dill's body. It's a fun body to dress. Actually, it would also probably be a fun body to— well . . . anyway, it's a fun body to dress.

"I can't afford all this," Dill said under his breath.

Lydia patted his cheek. "Calm down."

April rang them up. Thirty dollars for three shirts. Thirty dollars for the jacket. Forty dollars for the boots. Twenty dollars for two pairs of jeans. One hundred twenty dollars total.

Lydia leaned on the counter. "Okay, April. Here's the deal. I'd love it if you'd sell us all this for fifty bucks, and I'm prepared to make it worth your while."

April gave Lydia a sympathetic head tilt. "Aw, sweetie. I wish I could. Tell you what. I'll do one hundred, the friend price, because I wish we were best friends."

Lydia leaned over the counter and motioned at the lap-top. "May I?"

"Sure."

Lydia typed Dollywould into the browser and waited for it to load. She turned the computer toward April.

Ever been here?"

April squinted at the screen. "Yeah . . . looks familiar. I'm pretty sure I have. Was there an article on here about the best vintage stores in Tennessee?"

Excerpted from The Serpent King by Jeff Zentner. Copyright © 2016 by Jeff Zentner. Excerpted by permission of Crown. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.