Chapter 14
Love grows best in little houses, with fewer walls to separate.
—Doug Stone
Two hours later, Sheldon found Nora sitting behind the checkout counter, staring into space. She was supposed to have gone to Wynter House before work, but the only house she could think about was her own.
Sheldon laid his hand over Nora’s. “I smelled the smoke on my way here. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw your house! What happened?”
Nora didn’t look at him. She sat hunched on her stool, gazing listlessly out the window. “It was arson. Someone was trying to scare me. I thought I was lucky. I didn’t get hurt, and I’d get my house fixed, and things would go back to normal. But I don’t have enough savings to cover the repairs. I’ll have to take out a loan. We won’t be able to hire anyone for the shop.”
Sheldon wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What about your insurance?”
“It doesn’t cover acts of arson.”
“Pobrecita. That isn’t fair!” He pressed her head into the soft wool of his sweater vest. “Everything will be okay. I know it will. You’ll find a way to fix your house—make it better than ever—because you get things done. This is not the moment for tackling such a big thing, though. This is a moment for a very strong cup of coffee and a very sweet donut. Luckily, I can give you both of those things.”
Nora murmured, “Not hungry.”
“You only think that because you’re still in shock. I bet you don’t even remember putting on the clothes you’re wearing or unlocking the store, do you?”
“No.”
Sheldon smoothed Nora’s hair. “Exactamente. But I love your mismatched socks. It could be a new trend. You should show them to all the customers today.”
Nora stuck her legs out. She was wearing one blue sock with white stripes and one purple sock with white flowers.
“Shit,” she muttered, which made Sheldon laugh. He pulled Nora against him so she could feel how the laughter made his belly jiggle. Impossibly, it made her smile.
“There you are,” Sheldon said, his voice warm with affection. “You will figure this out, and you’ll have plenty of help. From me, from your friends, from everyone who loves you. In the meantime, you’re going to eat something, drink something, and watch me set up the spy camera. Identifying the book thief will solve one mystery, at least, and that will feel good.”
Nora allowed Sheldon to lead her to the Readers’ Circle. He brewed her such a strong cup of coffee that she had to add cream and four sugar cubes just to make it palatable. Then he stood over her, his arms folded, until she ate one of Hester’s famous apple cider donuts.
By the time she greeted her first customers, she felt almost human. And when a woman came in seeking books for a social media reading challenge, Nora became so caught up in the subject that she actually started enjoying herself.
“I need a spooky classic to read in the fall, but I’ve read Dracula and Frankenstein, Poe and Wilkie Collins—most of the famous ones. I’m trying to figure out what I missed,” the woman said.
Nora showed her several books, including Rebecca, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and The Haunting of Hill House, but the woman had read them all. She’d also read The Phantom of the Opera and every subsequent book Nora suggested.
“How about Northanger Abbey? It has a Gothic vibe.”
“I re-read Austen’s canon every year. I love the Brontës too. Except for Wuthering Heights. I’ve never enjoyed that one. Can you find me something more obscure?”
Happily rising to the challenge, Nora found a short book in the used section that the woman hadn’t read yet called The Best Ghost Stories of Algernon Blackwood.
“This book belonged to another customer, who reads nothing but horror. He told me about one of these stories. It’s about two sailors traveling on the Danube. They stop for the night to rest on an island full of willow trees. They think they’re alone, but strange things start happening that make them question their sanity.”
“I like it, but I wish it were longer. I feel like I’d be cheating if I read something so short. Unless I read two.”
Nora scrolled through a mental Rolodex of spooky story collections. “How about ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman?”
“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t think I’ve read it. What’s it about?”
“Well, it’s more of a psychological thriller than horror. It’s about a woman with postpartum depression back in the times when anything wrong with a woman was given a diagnosis of hysteria. After the woman is locked in a room with peeling yellow wallpaper, she starts seeing shapes in the wallpaper and tries to figure out where they’re coming from.”
The woman nodded enthusiastically. “A creepy classic written by a female writer. I’ll take it.”
They moved on to the next category in the challenge, which was a book with apples or a pumpkin on the cover.
“I have several cozy mysteries that’ll fit the bill,” Nora said. “I was actually going to make a fall-themed cozy display this afternoon, so you’re helping me.”
For fall romances, Nora recommended a number of titles, of which the woman selected Ashley Poston’s The Dead Romantics, Jessica Booth’s A Match Made in Autumn, and Sarah Addison Allen’s First Frost.
After finding books for ten of the twelve categories on the list, the woman ended up purchasing a whopping twenty-two books, both new and used, as well as a candle and a handful of bookmarks. While narrowing down her choices, she’d had a cappuccino and a chocolate book pocket.
“If all of my customers were like her, I could afford to fix my house,” Nora told Sheldon later that day.
“Not everyone has her book budget, but we could encourage more spending if we printed out that challenge. We could even offer a prize for customers who complete it. Nothing huge. We could have three winners. Our prizes could be a candle, a coffee and bookmark, and a gift card.”
Nora liked the idea. “I can make copies after I close.”
“Or I can ask June. You know she has color-copy machines at work.”
“I don’t want her to get in trouble.”
Sheldon pulled a face. “Trouble? The woman practically runs the place. If she doesn’t feel comfortable, she’ll just say no. After what happened to your house, your friends will want to help you. And you should let them. I’ll call her, okay?”
He retreated to the ticket agent’s office to make the call, and while Nora couldn’t hear what he was saying, the conversation went on for a long time. Sheldon was up to something, but Nora didn’t have the energy to give much thought to what that something could be.
At four thirty, Sheldon was gone, and the shop was buzzing with high school students, tourists in search of wine-themed books preceding a local vineyard tour, a bridal party staying at the Inn of Mist and Roses, and festivalgoers who’d stopped in Miracle Springs on their way to a bluegrass-and-barbecue event in Asheville. There were customers in every part of the store.
Nora was bagging three Richard Osman mysteries for a bridesmaid when June suddenly appeared at the checkout counter and told Nora to shoo.
“You trained me on this machine a few months ago, so I know exactly how to take these fine people’s money. There’s a line of folks waiting for drinks. Hester is handling the coffee and tea orders, but she’s rusty on the espresso machine.”
“Hester’s here too?”
June hip-checked Nora out from behind the counter. “Honey, someone tried to roast you like a Thanksgiving turkey, so, of course, we came as soon as we could. Estella will be here as soon as she finishes with her last client of the day. The three of us are going to sell the hell out of everything you’ve got for the next hour and a half. Then we’re going to sit down and figure out what you need to get your life back to normal. Now beat it. This gentleman has places to be and doesn’t need to be kept waiting while we yammer on.”
As Nora walked away, she overheard June say, “Good evening, sir. This is our fall reading challenge. If you check off all the categories, you might win a prize. I’ll give you two copies, in case you’d like to hang one up at work, the gym, or anyplace with a public message board.”
Back in the ticket agent’s booth, Hester was passing out checklists with every cup of coffee or tea.
“You should start carrying wine,” she said as Nora entered the room. “You could have a cocktail hour from five to six and offer something besides sweet treats. You’re totally out of food, and it’s not even five. I’m going to talk to Gus about coming up with some afternoon snacks. He’s been wanting to experiment with more savory recipes, anyway. The man works in a bakery and has absolutely no sweet tooth.”
Hester placed an iced tea on the ledge of the pass-through window. After it was collected by a pretty high schooler, with Dutch braids and a READ BANNED BOOKS sweatshirt, Hester took the next customer’s order.
For the next ten minutes, the women moved around the small space like dancers, pouring coffee, tamping grounds, grabbing clean mugs from the pegboard, and dumping dirty mugs in the sink.
When there were no more customers in line, Hester finally pulled Nora into a hug and whispered, “I’m sorry about your house, but I am so relieved that you’re okay.” She wiped away the tears beading her lashes. “I never imagined that someone would come after you because of Lucille. Is it because of the book she gave you?”
“It could be,” Nora said. “I didn’t think anyone knew I was searching for clues, but I guess I was seen. By whom? I don’t know. One of Lucille’s kids? A Junk Hunks worker?”
“Or Bea?”
Nora shook her head. “She would’ve asked me straight out. Same goes for Cricket. Maybe one of the Junk Hunks has ties to the Red Wolves. Maybe Clem isn’t the only person mixed up with them.”
They fell silent as a man approached the window and asked for cookbooks with food-and-wine pairings. After showing him the three she had in stock, Nora headed to the YA section to search for strays and to make her presence known to any potential shoplifters.
Rounding the corner of a set of display shelves featuring new nonfiction releases, Nora came upon a familiar group of girls sitting on the ground. They all had backpacks and appeared to be engaged in several activities at once. Nora took in the textbooks, binders, and calculators and realized that these girls were doing homework, while also scrolling through images on their phones and flipping through a stack of novels.
“What’s new on Bookstagram, ladies?” Nora asked.
“An author has lost her freaking mind,” said a girl named Brit. “She went after a reader for posting a negative review—which was totally legit, by the way—and harassed this woman on all her socials. People are calling out the author for bullying readers, and she’s trying to play the victim. She’s, like, one post away from being canceled.”
The girl across from Brit, whose name was Taylor, showed Nora her phone. “That’s already happening. See? Here’s a pic of someone returning her books to Barnes and Noble.”
Nora leaned down to get a closer look at a young woman with glasses standing in front of a register, looking peeved. She recognized the books in the young woman’s hand. The author wasn’t on par with the James Pattersons and Colleen Hoovers of the world, but she was one of the better-known authors of her genre.
“Considering she’s written five books, I’m surprised she let a negative review get under her skin,” said Nora.
On one hand, she felt sorry for the author because this single mistake could lead to the end of her career. On the other hand, she’d crossed a line by attacking a reviewer on a public platform.
Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance? Especially if they own up to their mistakes.
As if guessing the direction of Nora’s thoughts, Taylor said, “If she apologized, people would’ve already moved on. I mean, we all say dumb stuff on social media. Maybe she had too many margaritas when she went after that reviewer.”
“Nah, she’s done this before,” Brit interjected. “Other readers are posting messages she wrote in response to their reviews. Some of them weren’t even negative! They were mostly neutral, like, three stars, but she still went after them. She has a history of being nasty to reviewers.”
The girls were completely invested in the drama. They exchanged animated whispers and searched for other examples of bad behavior by the author. The whole thing brought Nora down. She tried to change the subject by asking the girls which of the books on the floor were currently popular with Bookstagrammers. They responded, but their answers were brief and unenthusiastic. Knowing they were eager to get back to their phones, Nora left them to it.
However, she’d made a mental note of the books poking out from under the girls’ backpacks. If any of those books disappeared before closing, Nora would have no choice but to view the girls with suspicion.
I hope it’s not them. I like those young ladies.
The rest of the workday passed quickly. Estella showed up a few minutes before closing with a take-out bag in each hand. She and Hester cleaned the kitchen, while June insisted on running the vacuum. All Nora had to do was shelve strays and run an inventory report on YA sales for the day. She was pleased to discover that the high school girls were not book thieves.
In fact, Brit and Taylor were good for business. They’d each purchased a book and posted a photo of the cover on Instagram. Both girls had tagged Miracle Books in their posts, and several of their friends had left comments saying that they were excited to hang out at the bookstore on Saturday.
“Are you smiling?” June asked as she bent over to plug in the vacuum.
“I overheard an older woman complaining to her husband about the younger generations. She doesn’t think any of them read for pleasure, which is simply not true. They do read.” She held out her phone for June to see the social media post. “They also post photos and reviews. They attend author events, festivals, and conferences. They actually influence market trends. This current generation might just be the biggest book advocates ever.”
June nodded. “They’ve definitely made sure we have more diverse reads. I hardly ever saw a Black woman on the cover of the books I read when I was in high school. Granted, I wasn’t reading Toni Morrison or Zora Neale Hurston back then. I was checking out as many romance paperbacks from the library as I could get. I remember when I saw a Harlequin with a Black couple on the cover. Lord, I thought it was so beautiful. I still remember the title. Adam and Eva.”
“You’ll have to find a picture of that and show us while we eat,” Estella said as she emerged from the fiction section and made a beeline for Nora. “Come on, darlin’. You must be wrecked. When I think about how your day started, it’s a miracle you’re still on your feet. And helping customers for the past eight hours like nothing happened. Jack made dinner for all of us, so we’re going to stuff our faces and talk. Two things we do extremely well.”
Hester and Estella laid out a feast of comfort foods in the Readers’ Circle. There was cottage pie topped with a crust of golden mashed potatoes, Jack’s famous biscuits, autumn squash risotto, a green salad with apples and walnuts, three bottles of hard cider, and a bottle of sparkling apple juice for Estella.
June dimmed the lights and lit the tea light candles scattered around the coffee table. When all the candles were lit, she grabbed her bottle of hard cider and raised it in a toast. “To quote the wise and wonderful Oprah, ‘Turn your wounds into wisdom.’ ”
“And may your wisdom help send the bastard who set fire to your house to jail,” added Hester.
The women knocked the necks of their bottles together.
As June loaded food onto Nora’s plate, she said, “We’ve been through so much together, ladies, and we’ll get through this too. Let’s start with the practical stuff. You have a home with McCabe, thank goodness, but you still need everyday types of stuff. Which is why I picked up a few things for you.”
After putting the loaded plate in front of Nora, June went to the Children’s Corner and returned with a pair of bulging shopping bags. “You can look through these later, but your immediate clothing needs are covered. Bras, underwear, socks, jeans, and a few tops. I even found a pair of Chuck Taylors in your size.”
Before Nora had the chance to thank June, Estella cried, “My turn!” and grabbed the bag she’d stashed in the ticket agent’s booth.
“I was in charge of toiletries, so prepare yourself. Most of these are from the salon. There’s a boar’s hair brush, shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, face wash, sunscreen, moisturizer, serums, exfoliating wash, masks, and makeup. I know you tend to stick with lipstick and mascara, but I added a few more things, like blush, shadow, eye pencils, concealer, and a manicure kit with some neutral polish. Just in case you need an extra dose of self-care.”
Nora gaped at Estella. “You can’t give me all of those products. It’s too much.”
“I got every item at cost, remember? Besides, I can’t wait to see how you look with a dark brown smoky eye look or vamp-punk lips.”
Peering into the bag, Hester said, “What’s vamp-punk?”
“A statement lip in deep red or a reddish brown.”
Hester turned to Nora. “My contribution isn’t mine alone, but I’ll explain more over dessert.”
Hester disappeared into the ticket agent’s office, emerging a few minutes later with a casserole dish. She placed the dish on a folded tea towel and headed back into the kitchen. “I just have to grab the ice cream.”
“Is this what I think it is?” Nora asked hopefully.
“Yep. Apple-and-mixed-berry crumble.” Hester removed the foil from the casserole dish and plunged a spoon through the oat-and-brown-sugar topping. “Still warm enough to melt the ice cream. June, would you do the honors?”
June added perfect scoops of vanilla ice cream to each serving of apple-and-berry crumble.
Nora smiled at Hester. “I keep a special compartment in my stomach reserved for your desserts. Thanks for making my absolute favorite.”
Hester, who’d served herself a smaller portion than anyone else, was the first to put down her spoon and dab her lips with her napkin. “That is good. Wanna know what else is good?” she asked Nora.
“The three of you. I feel a million times better than I did this morning.”
“A lot can happen in a day.” Hester exchanged cryptic glances with Estella and June before continuing. “Jasper called to tell me about your house late this morning. Apparently, the sheriff gathered his officers together and said that he wouldn’t rest until he apprehended the arsonist. He seemed perfectly calm on the outside, but he was obviously furious.”
Nora nodded. “The thought that I might’ve been home, in bed, when that bottle crashed through the window scared him. It scared me, too, but I got tired of feeling like a victim pretty quickly. I’m not scared anymore. I’m angry. I want to know who did that to my home.”
“You have to be a monster to torch a red caboose,” Estella grumbled.
Hester said, “Sheldon shared the bad news about your insurance. They really won’t cover the damage?”
Nora visibly deflated. “Nope. The store is covered, but not my house.”
June let out a frustrated sigh. “The CEO of your insurance company should share a cell with the arsonist because that’s just criminal.”
“Luckily, you’re part of a pretty special community,” Hester went on. “A community that loves your caboose cottage. And you. Which is why people have already contributed to the crowdfunding site I set up earlier today.”
June showed Nora one of the fall reading challenge handouts. “You haven’t seen this yet, because we knew you wouldn’t like it. Not the reading challenge. We knew you’d like that. I’m talking about what’s on the back of the sheet.”
Nora flipped the sheet over and paled. “You gave this to my customers today?”
“You bet your ass we did,” said June.
Estella pointed her sparkling apple juice at Nora. “You help people every day. You listen, you comfort, you offer advice and bibliotherapy. You don’t know how many lives you’ve changed with your magical book matchmaking, but judging by the contributions to your fundraiser, the answer is lots.”
“It’s going to take a few days to spread the word about this campaign, but it’s already started off with a bang. Do you want to know how much people have donated in one afternoon?”
Despite Hester’s enthusiasm, Nora shook her head. “I know you all mean well, but this feels wrong. Fundraisers are for sick kids or pets in need of a lifesaving surgery. They’re for families who’ve lost everything in a natural disaster. I have a job. I have a place to stay. I have McCabe and all of you. I’ve lost my house, but only temporarily.”
“While we’re counting your blessings, let’s count a few other things.” June held out her right hand, fingers splayed. “How many vacations have you taken in the past five years? Zero. How many times has someone else closed the store for you? Zero. How many times have you called in sick? Zero.”
“If you drain your savings, you and Grant will never visit his sister in Texas. And didn’t you say you wanted to drop by that bookstore in Houston?”
“Murder by the Book,” said Nora. “Yes, I want to go there. I want to go to Booksellers’ Row in London too. But they’re bucket list trips.”
Hester gave her a stern look. “A vacation shouldn’t be on your bucket list. Vacations are something people do to stay sane.”
June raised her hands to the heavens and cried, “Amen.”
Seeing Nora’s stricken expression, Estella leaned across the table and patted her knee. “We’re not going to take advantage of people’s generosity. Once you have the money you need to rebuild and furnish your new and improved space, we’ll cancel the fundraiser. One of my clients is the only female contractor in town, and I already called her to see if she’d give you an estimate. I’ll share her contact info with you before I leave.”
Nora passed her hands over her face. It was one thing for her friends to help out in the store for a few hours or bring her dinner, but it was quite another to take donations from her customers and neighbors.
“We know we’ve hit you with a lot,” Hester said softly. “But we wanted your day to end on a better note than it started.”
Nora stood up to hug her friends. She held each of them for several seconds, hoping her touch could convey a fraction of the gratitude she felt.
“I hate to break this up, but I’m meeting McCabe in thirty minutes.” She quickly explained that she and McCabe would be hunting together for the rest of the clues from The Little Lost Library.
Estella began stacking their dessert plates. “In that case, we’d better clean up.”
“I hope you find the library,” Hester said as she collected their empty glasses. “It wouldn’t make up for Lucille’s death or the damage to your house, but I feel like the books need to be rescued.”
Glancing around at the book spines neatly tucked into their warm wooden shelves, Nora whispered, “Me too.”