The bowl of steaming chicken soup smelled delicious, but Alice hadn’t tasted it. She hadn’t even touched the spoon by its side.
“Eat, please,” Becca said, looking at Alice and then giving Ona, who sat next to Alice, a worried look. “You’ll feel better.”
Alice couldn’t imagine that food would make a difference. Not at a time like this.
“We need to look at that wall,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, and only a notch above a whisper. The dust from the collapsed wall and ceiling in the bookstore had wreaked havoc on her lungs and throat. “And the ceiling. The scaffolding must’ve held it in place. That was no accident…”
“All in good time,” Becca said.
“There’s no time. Before the evidence disappears, we have to get in there.”
“We can’t, Alice,” Ona said. She was still wearing her Regency outfit, except it all looked gray, covered in mortar dust. “Chief Jimbo has cordoned off the area. The volunteer firefighters have gone over the structure, and they’ve confirmed the obvious: The bookstore building is too dangerous to enter. The rest of the ceiling could collapse at any moment.”
“But it can still be fixed, right?” Alice looked at her friend. “We’ll finish the fundraiser, we’ll renovate, we’ll find buyers…”
Ona took Alice’s hand. “Sweetie, it’s over. The fundraiser didn’t work out.”
“Didn’t—?”
Alice was confused. “But we were selling books. There were so many people…”
Becca said, “The money we raised on book sales was good. But it would never be enough to fix the bookstore. Not now.”
Kris slid into the booth, sitting next to Becca, across from Alice.
“Becca’s right,” she said. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she’d been crying. “I spoke with Mayor MacDonald, and he says the building will be condemned. It’s too unsafe.”
“What?” Alice leaned forward, almost knocking her soup bowl over. “That can’t be true. There must be a way to save the bookstore.”
“Bunce doesn’t believe there is,” Kris said. “He says—”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she had to take a moment to recover before adding, “He says that he’s going to sell to Darrell Townsend. That he doesn’t have a choice. Darrell’s the only one who will buy, and even then, it’s such a low bid, Bunce might as well be giving it away for free.”
Just like with the Oriels’ cabin…
And once again, Darrell would win. He would count on everyone giving up once the building had collapsed. But Alice wouldn’t give up.
I’ve got to save the red door…my Wonderland…and not just that…
When she’d first come to Blithedale, the wardrobe with the red door—her hideaway—had mattered the most. But she saw now that the joyful memories of her childhood lived on in the bookstore itself.
I’ve got to save Mom’s bookstore…whatever’s left of it.
Alice tried to stand, which wasn’t possible in the confines of the booth, and turned to Ona, trying to shove her way past.
“We’ve got to talk to Bunce. We can raise more money. Offer a higher price. Buy the property before Darrell destroys it.”
Ona put a hand on her shoulder.
“Alice,” she said, her voice so low and slow, it was like a mother speaking to her child. “We tried. Becca, Kris, and I offered to pool our savings. Which isn’t much. But it wouldn’t amount to more than what Darrell’s offering.”
“No…”
Ona gently guided her back down to her seat. Alice slumped down, her whole body going limp as Ona’s sad eyes told her what she knew deep down: They couldn’t save the bookstore from destruction.
She leaned her elbows on the table and put her face in her hands.
Becca and Kris whispered about the situation, but the words blurred together in Alice’s tired mind. Vaguely, she was aware of Becca and Kris leaving the booth. But Ona stayed, still holding her hand.
“There must be some way to save the bookstore…” Alice mumbled, her mind a confused muddle of clues and questions: Darrell’s plans…ceiling collapsing…gold necklace…Old Mayor Townsend’s journal…Mom’s bookstore…
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She had to focus on the immediate problem: How to stop Bunce from selling to Darrell.
If only she knew someone who cared about bookstores enough to step in and offer Bunce a higher price. Someone who wouldn’t raze the building to construct a strip mall. Someone whose passionate love for books would ensure Blithedale Books continued to exist as an independent bookstore…
She raised her head from her hands. A massive weight pressed down on her, a weariness that made her too exhausted to even cry. Because she knew who she’d just described.
Someone who cared so deeply about books that he’d step in to save an independent bookstore.
She dug out her phone.
“Alice, what are you doing?” Ona asked.
“I’m calling Rich.”