Ethan Mack

Quick Facts

• Role: Shop-Way owner; a sixty-something Scottish immigrant and trusted town connector in Sowell Bay
• First seen: Manning the Shop-Way register, teasing a customer for even showing her loyalty card
• Key relationships: Tova Sullivan (long-held crush, later gentle romantic prospect); Cameron Cassmore (surrogate son)
• Physical snapshot: Heavy Scottish accent; “freckled bulb” of a head; a short, wiry beard mostly white with a reddish cast; kind green eyes; an awkward, stocky frame with a bad back from longshoreman days; a belly that strains his Shop-Way apron

Who They Are

Warm, garrulous, and quietly brave, Ethan Mack is the soft-spoken heart of Sowell Bay. From behind his grocery counter he becomes the story’s quiet catalyst—feeding, hiring, and nudging people toward one another until their separate lives braid into something like family. His small acts of generosity do the heavy lifting of the plot, but they also embody the novel’s belief in chosen bonds and everyday care, the spirit of Found and Biological Family and the ache and relief of Loneliness and Connection.

Personality & Traits

Ethan’s “scuttlebutt” habit and his tenderness are two sides of the same impulse: he pays attention. That watchfulness—of people’s needs, of town news, of what might help—makes him a natural welcomer and a gentle fixer. His sentimentality (that prized Grateful Dead tee) doesn’t undercut his sturdiness; it humanizes him, showing how memory and loss shape his kindness.

• Kind and generous: He feeds Cameron when he’s broke, hires him at Shop-Way, and lets him park a camper in his driveway “indefinitely”—practical help that becomes emotional refuge.
• Chatty, gossipy—in a useful way: He’s “well-versed in the town’s scuttlebutt” and even points the lawyer for Lars’s estate toward Tova at the aquarium, turning gossip into a plot hinge.
• Lonely but open-hearted: He came to America decades ago “chasing a lass” and ended up alone; his friendliness with customers and quiet devotion to Tova reveal a hunger for connection he pursues without bitterness.
• Supportive, fatherly: With Cameron, he offers structure, patience, and presence—habits of care that model what a dependable parent looks like.
• Sentimental beneath the gruff: He cherishes his rare Grateful Dead T-shirt and nurses a long, respectful crush on Tova; that devotion signals how seriously he takes memory and meaning.
• Physical humility: The bad back, the awkward frame, the apron-strained belly—details that emphasize an unpretentious man who works hard and shows up.

Character Journey

Ethan begins as the town’s kindly shopkeeper—a familiar face who knows your loyalty number by heart. When Cameron stumbles into Shop-Way, Ethan’s decision to feed him, hire him, and point him toward the aquarium quietly reorients the novel. Through Cameron, Ethan becomes a hinge between strangers, turning coincidence into companionship. Emboldened by this web of care, he finally risks asking Tova to tea, and later sits down with her and Cameron at Thanksgiving. By the end, the man who once lived alone has helped midwife a new family—and found a seat at its table.

Key Relationships

• Tova Sullivan: Ethan’s affection is gentle, old-fashioned, and deeply respectful. He frets over her late shifts, grieves with her, and awkwardly, sweetly invites her out for tea—an emblem of a second chance built on patience rather than pressure. Their chemistry is tender because it feels earned: trust first, companionship next, romance maybe.
• Cameron Cassmore: Ethan becomes the steadiness Cameron has never had. He supplies basics (a job, hot food, driveway space) and also models adult reliability—showing Cameron what responsibility, humor, and warmth look like in daily practice. Their bond anchors the novel’s exploration of found family, turning Cameron’s drift into belonging.

Defining Moments

Ethan’s turning points are modest on the surface, but each one shifts the story’s center of gravity toward connection.

• Meeting Cameron at Shop-Way: He offers a free meal and conversation to a stranger at his lowest. Why it matters: This is the first step in their father–son dynamic and the first stitch in the book’s new family.
• Steering Cameron to the aquarium job: His recommendation lands Cameron in Tova’s orbit. Why it matters: It sets the novel’s main relationship dominoes falling, moving the parentage mystery toward resolution.
• The tea invitation: He blurts out an awkward, heartfelt ask. Why it matters: It marks Ethan’s move from passive admirer to active participant in his own happiness.
• The “disastrous” dinner and the Grateful Dead shirt mishap: Tova accidentally ruins his prized tee. Why it matters: The scene exposes their different worlds but proves his feelings run deeper than possessions; affection survives embarrassment.
• Thanksgiving at Tova’s: He shares a holiday table with Tova and Cameron. Why it matters: The image seals Ethan’s arc—from solitary immigrant to cherished member of a new household.
• Pointing the lawyer to Tova: His gossip routes crucial information to the right person. Why it matters: It shows how Ethan’s attentiveness, even in idle chatter, becomes instrumental care.

Essential Quotes

“I’ll hardly need to see that, love,” Ethan Mack says as Tova presents her loyalty card. The cashier is a chatty fellow with a heavy Scottish accent who also happens to be the store’s owner. He raps a callused knuckle against his wizened temple and grins. “Got it all up here; had your number punched in no sooner’n you came through the door.”

This playful boast captures Ethan’s storehouse memory and neighborly attention. He doesn’t just recognize customers; he anticipates them—an intimacy that makes Shop-Way feel like a communal kitchen rather than a checkout line.

“Tova, I’m sorry to hear about your brother’s passing.”
Tova lowers her head but says nothing.
He continues, “You need anything at all, just say the word.”

Condolence becomes commitment here. Ethan moves from public sympathy to private readiness, offering not platitudes but availability—the cornerstone of how he loves.

“If you want to thank me,” Ethan blurts, “perhaps you’d join me for tea sometime.”
Tova freezes. “Tea? Here?” She glances at the deli.
“Well, no, not here. The tea here is shit, to be honest. But it could be here, if you’d like. I hadn’t actually worked that part out yet.”

Awkward, honest, and funny, this is Ethan at his bravest. The charm lies in his lack of polish; vulnerability is the point, and the invitation signals his shift from bystander to participant in his own emotional life.

“He was a good bloke, Will Sullivan.”
“Yes, he was.”
“Well, then.” Something in Ethan’s voice reminds Tova of a soufflé that’s begun to sink.

Ethan honors Tova’s grief without pretending to fix it. That soft “Well, then” acknowledges the limits of comfort; the image of the sinking soufflé evokes tenderness tinged with helplessness—a compassionate realism that defines him.