The first thing I saw when I turned down the street was the blue lights from the police cars. Next to them, a fire truck idled and the road was blocked by an ambulance, which surprised me since Eleanor had said no one was hurt. My anxiety grew as I quickly parked then hurried toward the officer standing near the blocked off area. He turned, his hands rising to stop me, and said, “No one can get past, ma’am. We’ve got us a bad situation up ahead.”
I replied, “Yes, I know. I’m the manager of the bookstore. The owner, Eleanor Waltman, is out of town. She called me to come answer questions and report back to her on the damage. I’m Sugar Taylor. I have ID.”
He stepped back and waved his hand for me to follow him. “This way. You’ll need to talk to Mullroy.”
I fell into step behind him. As we walked closer, I could see the older model Honda Accord that had been driven through the front window. Glass and debris were everywhere.
“Careful where you step,” the officer said, glancing back at me as we drew closer. “Mullroy!” he yelled. My focus shifted to the car that had driven over not only the curb, but a garbage can as well, before crashing into the store. “He’s coming. They’re making sure the woman driving wasn’t hurt before arresting her.”
This got my attention. Was this a crime? I didn’t think it was intentional. “They’re arresting her?”
He nodded. “DUI.”
“Oh.”
“Probably shouldn’t have told you that. Let Mullroy tell you. Okay?”
I replied, “Of course.”
“Is your real name Sugar?” the cop suddenly asked.
This change of subject confused me, but I responded, “Yes.”
He grinned. “I like that.”
Was he really doing this? There was a car in a store window. This wasn’t the best time to discuss my name.
“Hey,” a deep voice said. My head twisted to meet those eyes that I’d only seen once but doubted I’d ever forget. “Sugar,” he surprisingly added after we stood there a moment staring at one another. He smiled, his all-business cop face easing some as he grinned. Not like last night. But it was still a smile.
“Yes. I work here. Eleanor, the owner, is out of town. She called me to come see about things.” I was impressed with the way I said all of that without sounding stupid or stuttering.
“I got this, Harris,” Ansel said to the other policeman without looking at him. My heart felt funny. It sped up when he got closer. He was a cop. I wouldn’t have guessed that last night.
Harris said something before walking away, but I was a bit flustered with the turn of events and didn’t hear what he said.
“Not the best way to wake up on your day off,” Ansel said with an apologetic smile.
“No, it’s . . . not.” I glanced around at the mess surrounding me and worried about Eleanor. She wasn’t going to handle this well. I needed to say more, but taking in the destruction, along with Ansel being here, was a smidge overwhelming. My awkwardness was back in force. I was surprised that I could even speak.
“You drink coffee?” he asked.
“Uh, yes,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what that had to do with this.
“Cream . . . sugar?”
“Both.” My response sounded like a question instead of an answer.
He angled his face without shifting his body and yelled, “Jake! Coffee! Sugar and cream!” Then he looked back at me. “Let’s go do this,” he said, gesturing for me to follow.
We walked towards the wreckage. “The driver isn’t conscious. She’s passed out drunk. Not sure where she was headed yet. We’re assuming home. This isn’t her first DUI. I’ve arrested her before. However, this particular offense is going to get her some time. Suspending her license hasn’t been enough and she’s continued to test the system. The system can and will bite back.”
“Was she hurt?” I asked, realizing it wasn’t any of my business, but for Eleanor, who had been told the driver wasn’t hurt, I had to make sure.
“Bruised up. She’s fine. The store wasn’t so lucky. Considerable damage was done. I haven’t been inside, but it appears from the outside that she destroyed a bar and some inventory.”
The beautiful wooden bar that Eleanor had special ordered and was so proud of was broken beyond repair. Crushed wine glasses were mixed with window glass on the floor. Only the women’s fiction section seemed to be damaged. The other books were okay. Not that it mattered. We couldn’t open back up anytime soon. This was going to take a while.
“Are you okay?” His concern was sincere. My stomach ached and I was positive that my expression mirrored how I felt.
I started to say “yes” but the truth came out instead. “This is awful. Eleanor is going to be devastated. Small independent bookstores have it hard enough as it is.”
“Everything is fixable. It looks bad now but this will be back to the way it was with some effort and elbow grease.” He was trying to be upbeat. I appreciated that. Yet, for a minute or two I needed to be by myself and feel the pain that it caused.
“Yeah,” was all I could say, as I continued to take in the damage, knowing there was no way that I could make this easier on Eleanor. She’d be here in mere hours. We’d worked so hard to bring business through these doors. Keeping a store open like this one, which the Internet had almost made irrelevant, was a daily toil and grind.
“Coffee,” another man said, handing Ansel a cup. He took it then stepped closer to me and placed it in my hand.
“Take a deep breath, sip a little bit, and try to loosen what tension you can in those shoulders of yours, even though caffeine won’t help.”
Ansel smiled that smile as I did what he said. Not because his voice was deep, or because his eyes were stunning, but because I was verging on a panic attack and I needed to get myself under control.
The coffee was a little too sweet but it was hot and it was strong. Hot and strong were what mattered. Maybe a sugar overdose would give me the energy I needed to deal with this.
“Ansel, we need you over here for the witness,” the man who had brought the coffee said. Ansel glanced at him before nodding.
“Sugar, when you’re ready to begin the property damage report we’ll commence with that. Right now, drink your coffee and take a moment for yourself.”
I tilted my head idiotically. That’s all I could think to do. “Mmm-hmm,” I mumbled.
He walked away swaggering. Swagger came naturally to him. This was a distraction that gave me a weird sort of peace, and if I had to face this while looking at Ansel, that was a bright spot, in a dismal scenario. Then I scanned the destruction before me and decided there wasn’t a bright spot within any of this, though it was nice to have him here.