For long periods of my life, I had imagined I’d always be on my own until I died, surrounded by good friends but lacking that partner to talk through the challenges of daily life with. But now, here I was, mulching around the hundreds of crocus leaves that were beginning to appear in what would be my yard in just a few short days, a yard I was tending with my fiancé, Jared.
My fiancé. Just the thought made me smile as I carefully bounced the pitchfork and let the brown pine bark mulch bounce around the emerging bulbs. Jared and I had planted almost one thousand bulbs in the fall with the idea that we’d have a blooming show in the yard for the wedding, which was just ten days away. The ceremony would be in the backyard, and the purple, yellow, and white flowers would do most of the decorating for us if the weather stayed warm and sunny.
That was if we didn’t collapse from exhaustion before the wedding. Jared’s promotion to sergeant at the police force and my bookstore, All Booked Up, getting busier, both were amazing, especially since it meant we were starting our marriage with a little nest egg and could do what we had decided was most important to us as a couple—give generously where our funds would help.
Often, this meant we gave cash to homeless people or provided money for a hotel when a family might have been forced out by fire. We contributed to another microloan through Kiva each month, which was rewarding. But our dream was to help even more people, mainly when housing was in such need. We had visions of buying the land behind our house and putting up tiny houses that could be temporary homes for people who needed a place to land while they got back on their feet.
Well, that and to fund the local animal shelter as much as possible, seeing as we were both big animal lovers and had two dogs and a grumpy cat named Aslan. We had even talked about getting a puppy for a bit, but that idea was short-lived when we remembered how busy our lives were and how often a puppy needed to piddle.
I filled my last wheelbarrow load of mulch and dumped it around the live oak out the front before spreading it. Then I parked the wheelbarrow against the side of the house, too tired to even think about putting it away properly. That would have to wait until my day off. Now, though, I needed to get to work—after a shower, a long, hot shower.
Mayhem, my Black Mouth Cur, and Taco, my basset hound, had already tuckered themselves out playing in the backyard, so when I called them to make the few blocks walk to work, they heaved themselves to standing as if they were elephants just waking from a twelve-hour nap. Soon, though, they were shuffling along and sniffing everything on the way to the store as if they hadn’t sniffed the same things twice a day, almost every day, for a month now. I guess dog noses didn’t get bored.
These two were best friends to each other and me, and today, I would surprise them. But first, we had to open the bookstore, and at this rate, we would arrive at closing. I gently tugged on their leads and picked up my pace. Fortunately, Taco must have been tired enough to comply but not too tired to walk. Otherwise, he would simply lie down and stay there, his center of gravity so low that no amount of coercing would move him against his will. It wasn’t uncommon for Jared—and sometimes me—to carry the lazy dog home after a long walk.
We reached the store's front door with not a minute to spare before opening. I typically got in early and spent time putting the store in order, caffeinating, and setting things up, but I’d just been too busy lately to get here that early. I flung open the door, flipped on the neon sign, and let the dogs do their usual lap around the shop.
I could smell coffee brewing from Rocky’s café and didn’t even stop to put down my bag or leashes before heading her way. I knew it wasn’t good for me to drink as much caffeine as I had been, but I wouldn’t make it without some help.
Seeing me coming, Rocky put a triple shot into the large travel mug I kept under her counter and added plenty of vanilla before steaming the rest with milk. I only had to stand at the counter for a few seconds before she handed me my drink and said, “Good morning. How are things?” She studied my face, and I wasn’t sure why.
“Good morning. Things are good, busy, but really good.” I looked at her to see she was now squinting at me. “Why?” I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice and barely succeeding. I was so tired.
“You’re too tired, Harvey. You need more rest. Can you do that?” My friend was leaning far over the counter, her eyes holding mine.
I sighed and slumped beside her on the counter. “I don’t think so,” I said. “There’s just so much to do.”
Rocky put her hand on my arm. “Let us help,” she said. “You and Jared are going to make yourselves sick doing all this, and then you won’t even enjoy your hard work.”
“You guys have already helped enough.” I was so bad at accepting help, mostly because I’d grown up thinking I was only a burden to most people.
“Nope, we have not.” She pushed off the counter. “I’m sending out the book signal.”
I smiled and sighed. “Okay,” I said as I picked up my latte and returned to the bookstore.
The “book signal” was the term that my friends had made up for the group texts I sent when I wanted to communicate with all of them at once. We made potluck dinner plans and sent SOSs to each other. Now, Rocky was going to mobilize everyone to help with the wedding. I was almost teary with gratitude.
While tidying the store and restocking our bags, I saw Rocky tapping away on her phone between customers. She talked a lot, and I couldn’t imagine what they were saying. My friends had kept me off the group text this time, so I had no idea what was happening. I decided that was probably good and headed to the fantasy section to straighten things up. We’d just started a YA fantasy book group, and those kids—and adults—were pouring through our collection. I’d already had to reorder The Fragile Threads Of Power, V.E. Schwab’s latest, twice, and it looked like we’d need to fill that order again, but I couldn’t blame them because the book was so good.
For the next few hours, I straightened shelves and pulled returns, placed an order for more books, and even had a little time to dust. It was quiet. But around eleven a.m., I heard the murmur of voices outside. Soon, almost all of my friends were in the middle of the bookstore, huddled around my mom.
I smiled and walked over. “What’s happening here?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Mom said. “We’ve got this.”
“Got what?” I said, playing dumb.
“Got you,” said my friend Stephen as he stepped forward and hugged me. “Rocky, Mart, and your mom have gathered a list of tasks to complete before your wedding, and we are your street team.”
I glanced around, but I didn’t see any sign of Mart. “Is Mart coming?”
“Oh no,” said my friend Cate as she sidled up and bumped my hip. “She’s engineering all of this from the winery.” Cate smiled. “But she’ll be here later.”
“Your mom is right, though,” our friend Elle said. “We’ve got this.”
“I’m in charge of decorations,” Pickle, one of the good “good ole boys,” said and then winked at me.
Mom smacked his arm. “Stop that. Do not stress the bride.” She turned to me. “Now, don’t the pups have an appointment today?”
I looked at my watch. “Oh, right. Their spa day. I’d better get them over there.”
Dad strolled over and grabbed the dogs’ leashes from the hook behind the counter. “I’ll go with you, then take you to lunch.”
“Great plan,” said Marcus, my assistant manager. “I’ve got the store.”
I wanted to protest, to assert that I didn’t need all this attention and pampering, which was what Southern women did—refused help—but honestly, I was too tired to even mount a slight grumble. So I took Mayhem’s leash from my dad, attached it to the tail-wagging creature now at my feet, and followed Taco and Dad out the door.
This spa day had originally been Jared’s idea. He was worried that the dogs were feeling our stress and thought they might need a bit of pampering to help keep them calm until the wedding. I loved the idea, but for different reasons—our dogs stank, and I wanted them to smell like spring flowers for the event. I had to admit, though, that Jared was on to something. I just wished I had time to get a spa day in for myself.
The new doggy spa and day care in town was called Doggy Dos. While I felt like maybe the words doggy and do conjure up a different image than fur styling, I did want to support new businesses in town. Besides, their front entrance was so cute with the cartoonishly giant animated fire hydrant and the manicured “facilities” that they had installed in the alley next to the shop. I hadn’t seen grass that green except at a putt-putt course.
A mechanical woofing sound went off as we walked in, and within a moment, a young woman with a gorgeous butterfly tattoo on her sternum said, “How can I help?”
I walked toward her as I took Taco’s leash from Dad. “I booked these two in for a full spa day. Mayhem and Taco,” I said as she began to tap on the screen.
“Oh yes,” she said with a smile. “They’re here for the Scrub and Fluff, the Puppycure, and the Canine Cuddle.” She looked at the dogs. “You two are also in luck. Our new Reiki practitioner is here for her first day. If you don’t mind,” the woman said, looking at me, “we’ll get them with her, too.”
I could feel Dad bristle just a bit beside me. Reiki and acupuncture, anything not pretty typically Western in its health approach, was suspect to my dad. But I was learning to keep an open mind. “Sure,” I said. “As long as the person is qualified.”
My dad looked at me and raised his eyebrows as he mouthed, “Qualified?”
“Oh yes,” the woman said. “She’s been working in veterinary offices around Virginia for years. She knows what she’s doing.”
The young woman pulled a red book out from below the counter and said, “Can I just get your contact info and payment information? We’ll get that all squared and have a receipt for you when you pick the pups up.”
“Of course,” I said as I pulled my wallet out and handed her my credit card before sharing my address and phone number.
“Perfect,” she said as she closed the book and came around the counter to kneel and greet her guests. “It’s nice to meet you, Taco and Mayhem.” She looked up to me to be sure she had applied the right name to the right pooch.
I smiled and nodded before giving the pups a scratch myself. “When should I come back for them?”
“Five this afternoon is great. But you might want to bring the car. As I’m sure you know, Bassetts are ruthless when they’re determined not to move. And these two will be puppy puddles when you come back.” She smiled at me as I handed her the leashes.
“Great tip,” I said. “Thanks.”
Dad and I walked back onto the street as my dogs followed their new friend without a moment’s hesitation. I figured they must use a treat-scented air freshener to lure them back. Either that or the dogs knew they were about to be spoiled.
“Please do not tell me you asked that woman if their Reiki specialist for dogs was qualified. How could she possibly be qualified to wave her arms over people—I mean dogs—and do anything?”
I sighed. “Dad, I don’t know how all this works, but I do know that I feel better when I’ve had Reiki done. Also, people who know the practice say you need to be careful who works on you, so if I need to be careful, I need to be careful with my dogs, too.” I added this last bit because I knew it would push Dad’s buttons a little. He had gotten better about seeing dogs as more than dirty creatures who should always live outside. When it came to his dog, Sidecar, he was practically treating that pooch like a human child, but he still couldn’t quite break through the belief that you didn’t pamper an animal.
To his credit, and probably because Mom had put the fear of God into him about stressing me out, he let the subject drop. We headed over to Chez Cuisine, our favorite place for lunch because I could get the owner, Max’s, famous risotto, which I loved, and Dad could get escargot, which I couldn’t even watch him eat. Still, it was our tradition—he called me boring, and I called him gross—and we caught up a bit.
We’d just placed our order with our waitress when a group of three women, including the young woman from the dog spa, came in and got a table next to us. I smiled at the woman who had taken Mayhem and Taco.
“They’re doing great,” she said with a big smile. “Taco has quite a snore.”
I laughed. “That he does,” I said. “Thanks for taking such good care of them.”
The young woman started to reply to me, but the woman to her right, with a severe streak of white running through her carefully styled hair, said, “Caro, we are in a meeting,” and pulled Caro by the arm until she sat down.
“You’re staring, Harvey,” Dad said as he sipped his water.
“That woman just kind of assaulted her employee,” I said as I turned my eyes to him.
“What?” he said as he started to push back his seat.
“No, it’s okay. She just pulled on her arm. They seem all right now.” I didn’t want to make a scene over something that Caro herself might not have been bothered by, and besides, I could still see their table if something else happened.
Dad and I chatted about the wedding, his consulting business, and Mom’s many charity events while we enjoyed our lunch and decided to split a crème brûlée. We were just about to tap the sugar on the top when the voices from the table beside us got very loud.
I saw the older woman leaning forward so far that she was spitting into Caro’s face as she shouted and pumped one fist in the air. “Hurt your feelings? If this is how you are going to act, then I don’t think this position will work out for you. I can’t believe you’re being so overly sensitive.” Her voice was getting louder, and her fist beat the air more vehemently with each word.
Dad was just about to stand up when I heard Max, who had surprisingly become a very dear friend, say, “Madame, we do not tolerate abusive behavior of any sort in this establishment.” His voice was even but firm.
“Abusive?” The woman rolled her eyes. “You need to stay out of what you don’t understand.” She had lowered her voice a little, but not much.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave. Please pay for your meal and go.” The bartender, a large man with suspenders and a handlebar mustache, walked over and stood beside Max. “Now.”
The angry woman grew very still, then stood up and pushed the table away from her with such force that several glasses fell off and broke on the floor. “I will do no such thing.” She picked up her keys and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving the bill unpaid.
Caro and the other woman with her stared straight ahead for a long moment before Caro bent down and began to pick up the glass shards.
“Please stop,” Max said. “We will clean that up. Why don’t the two of you move to this table?” he pointed to a small one in the back corner of the restaurant, “and I’ll bring you some chamomile tea.”
Dad stood and followed Max toward the kitchen while I made my way over to Caro and her friend. “Are you guys okay? That was pretty scary.”
Caro nodded, even though I saw tears in her eyes. Her friend was sitting very still.
I tugged another chair over and sat down. “I’m Harvey,” I said to the young woman I hadn’t met yet.
She blinked a couple of times and then looked at me. “Sheila,” she said as she forced a small smile onto her face. “I’m new to town.”
“Sheila is our new Reiki master,” Caro said. “She worked on Mayhem this morning.”
I smiled at Caro and turned back to Sheila. “Is my girl a puddle like Caro promised?”
“Oh yes,” Sheila said as some rigidness left her body. “She has some sore back legs but will sleep soundly tonight.” A soft smile made Sheila’s dark brown skin glow like a sunbeam.
“Oh, thank you,” I said. “That girl played hard when she was a younger dog, and now that she’s into middle age, it’s catching up to her.”
“Well, feel free to bring her in regularly. It might just help her.” Sheila took a deep breath. “I will need to call my own practitioner after that.” She glanced toward the door where the angry woman had just left.
No one had ever accused me of being too aloof about other people’s business, so I didn’t hesitate to ask. “What was that all about?”
Caro and Sheila exchanged looks, and then Caro said, “That’s our boss, Penelope. She isn’t always, um, easy to work for.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Sheila said. “She’s upset today because I’m giving free Reiki sessions.”
I sighed. “Well, if it helps you, I’m happy to pay.” I wasn’t exactly flush with cash, especially with the wedding coming up, but I didn’t want Sheila to get in trouble for caring for my dog.
“Absolutely not,” Caro said as Sheila nodded along. “Penelope knew we were giving first sessions for free when she suggested we bring in a Reiki practitioner. She doesn’t get to go back on that decision just because she’s running out of money.”
I nodded but left that comment alone. As a business owner, I knew how hard it was to make ends meet sometimes. While I didn’t particularly appreciate how Penelope talked to her employees, I wouldn’t judge the woman, especially not about business finances.
“If she didn’t own two Teslas and a Jaguar,” Sheila said, “she’d have plenty of money.”
I gaped but still stayed silent. People always judge other people for what they spend money on. I saw it in the line when someone used government assistance to buy some soda for a birthday party, and the person behind them thought they had a right to comment on the “use of their tax dollars.” I wasn’t about to do the same thing to someone possibly in a higher tax bracket than mine. Still, I did see Sheila’s point.
“Well,” I said as I stood up. “If it turns out that you need to skip Reiki for Taco, please do. No problem.”
Sheila shook her head. “No, that guy has some serious built-up tension in his hips. He needs me.”
I smiled and went back to my table. “You heard her,” I told Dad. “Taco has tension in his hips.” I tried to keep my face sincere.
“Sure he does,” Dad said. “Let’s get you back to work.”
Walking toward the door, I heard Max tell Caro and Sheila, “Your meal is paid for, women. Enjoy your day.”
I glanced over at my dad, who didn’t even smile.
I spent most of the afternoon wandering around the bookstore and talking to customers. Marcus was getting all our regular weekly work taken care of with the help of Stephen and Walter, and now, Elle was apparently at our house finishing up the landscaping with Pickle and Bear. Cate and Henrietta were completing the few remaining wedding-related tasks with Mom, and Dad had headed out to finalize a few “surprises” that Mom had come up with. While I was nervous about what my mother might add as a surprise for my life, I was immensely grateful for the mental space to be in my store and talk books.
I had the privilege of suggesting two coffee table books, including the gorgeous collection of Frida Kahlo’s complete paintings, to an art student who was graduating from nearby Washington College and had gotten a request for “exquisite” gift suggestions from her great aunt.
But, by far, my favorite part of the afternoon was talking with two first graders who were excited to be able to pick out their favorite picture books since they had just gotten As in reading for the term. The three of us sat on the floor in the children’s section and pulled book after book off the shelves as I told them why I loved the illustrations in one or the story in others. Their moms sat nearby and watched us with huge smiles on their faces.
They ultimately chose two titles each—Knight Owl by Christopher Denise, The Little Ghost Who Was A Quilt by Riel Nason, The Night Gardener by Terry and Eric Fan, and Memory Jars by Vera Brasgol. All of their choices were tender, sweet, and beautifully illustrated, and choosing books with knight and night gave me a chance to talk about homonyms, a subject the girls were still discussing as they headed out the door later.
By the time five p.m. rolled around, and my shift at the store was over, I felt sated in a way I hadn’t in a long time because I’d recently felt like I’d never quite get done everything I needed to do in a day. Now, though, everything was finished—or at least getting done—and I had been both part of the doing and not responsible for it all. That was a great feeling.
After we bid goodbye to Marcus, Rocky and I walked out together. “See you tomorrow,” she said, heading toward her car.
I waved and made my way to the dog spa. When I got closer, I marveled at the adorable lights that framed the fire hydrant art out front and decided I’d ask Penelope if I could have the artist’s name so they could do something for my shop, too. Maybe we could make it a Main Street theme.
But all thoughts of art disappeared when I walked into the front door and found Caro and Sheila standing over Penelope’s body, a pair of silver shears protruding from her chest.