Chapter 21
One of the best cures for a reluctant reader, after all, is a tale they cannot stop themselves from reading.
—Neil Gaiman
Nora took a step back and once again admired the display of pumpkins in the red wagon directly below the main display window.
The wagon had been Charlie’s idea. After seeing an illustration of a pumpkin-filled wagon in a children’s book he’d been shelving, he’d offered to wheel his wagon to the farmers’ market, load it up with gourds of every size, shape, and color, and park it in front of the store. As soon as this task was done, he went back to the market for hay bales and potted mums, spending the good part of his Saturday morning transforming the bookstore’s facade.
When Nora saw the results of his efforts, she’d showered him with praise and bought him a huge sub sandwich for lunch.
Hiring Charlie Kim had been one of the best decisions of her life. Though still somewhat shy with the customers, he was a hard worker and keenly eager to please Nora. He was more relaxed with Sheldon, who joked around with Charlie until he smiled or let out one of his rare, high-pitched guffaws.
Nora had never spent much time with a teenage boy. Judging them from afar, she’d always assumed they were a whirlwind of hormones, hunger, and untidiness. Charlie did have a voracious appetite and devoted the majority of his headspace to his crush, but he wasn’t messy. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Charlie couldn’t stand the sight of books lying around on side tables or reading chairs. And he was always scanning the shelves for books that had been placed in the wrong section or out of alphabetical order. Not only did he like order, but he liked tidiness as well. He dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned the kitchen and restroom without being asked. He organized the stockroom.
After two weeks on the job, he’d worked up the nerve to ask Nora for permission to make a few changes to the shop’s social media accounts. Soon he was posting every day.
“You need to keep a record of the time you spend on those posts so I can add the hours to your paycheck,” Nora told him one Friday afternoon.
Charlie, who’d been unwrapping a chocolate bar the size of Nora’s shoe, paused to say, “You don’t need to pay me. I like taking photos and making videos. And guess what? She likes all of my posts.”
Though Charlie had never identified his crush, Nora knew that her name was Tilly. Tilly had moved to Miracle Springs in July and spent many a languid summer afternoon at Miracle Books. She liked iced tea, the color pink, Hello Kitty, young adult books featuring fierce female protagonists, and Greek retellings with a feminist spin. Tilly was smart, confident, and had no problems making friends. Nora heard her introduce herself to other kids her age, and it wasn’t long before she started showing up at Miracle Books with two or three other girls.
By October, she’d made it a habit to stop by the bookstore every Friday after school. She was always friendly to Charlie, but he barely spoke in her presence. He blushed and stammered and seemed unable to look her directly in the eye.
He was in the ticket agent’s office, helping Sheldon winnow down the line of people waiting for coffee, hot chocolate, and pastries, when Tilly’s pretty face appeared in the pass-through window.
“Hey, Charlie,” she said, tucking a lock of espresso-brown hair behind her ear, “were you at the farmers’ market with the red wagon last Saturday?”
Charlie blushed. “Um. Yeah. I was getting, um—”
“Pumpkins,” she said helpfully. “I saw them outside. I took a pic of the wagon and sent it to my mom. She wants to do the same thing on our front porch. You have a really good eye for color.”
“Um. Thanks.” Charlie stared at a point just past Tilly’s shoulder. “Can I get you anything?”
Tilly glanced at the menu board. “I’m not sure. What goes with a story about a Greek queen who’s been unfairly vilified for centuries?”
Charlie reached for a rag and wiped a speck of sugar off the counter. “Are you talking about Clytemnestra?”
Tilly stared at him in astonishment. “Yes! How’d you know?”
“I read Costanza Casati’s retelling. It was awesome.”
“I can’t believe it!” Tilly squealed. “Are you into retellings?”
Charlie nodded. “Greek myth, yes. Fairy tales? Not so much.” Pointing at the menu, he said, “I recommend Agatha Chris-Tea with honey. You know, because the Greeks loved their honey.”
“Okay. I’ll get that.” Tilly leaned on the counter and smiled at Charlie. “Hey, when do you have a break? We could drink tea and talk books. I’m dying to know what other retellings you’ve read.”
“Um . . .” Charlie began.
Sheldon shoved Charlie to the side. “Give him five minutes. Since all the chairs in the Readers’ Circle are taken, he’ll bring your tea to the YA section.”
“Perfect,” said Tilly, plunking a ten on the counter. “Keep the change.”
As soon as she was out of sight, Charlie darted to the front of the store and slipped behind the checkout counter.
“Could I talk to you?” he whispered.
Hearing the panic in his voice, Nora said, “Sure. Is everything okay?”
“No,” Charlie hissed. “She’s here, and I can’t remember a single Greek retelling. My mind has gone totally blank.”
Nora was about to tell him to wait until she was done bagging Mrs. D’Agostino’s order when the elderly lady raised a hand and cried, “Don’t ring me up yet! I don’t want to leave without one of those fall candles.”
Charlie offered to get the candle, but Mrs. D’Agostino couldn’t remember which scent she liked best. “I’ll just waddle back to the mystery section and smell them all again.”
As soon as she was out of earshot, Nora put a hand on Charlie’s arm. “Relax. You’ve got this. You’ve been preparing for this moment for months. You’ve read Atalanta. What else?”
“Circe, of course. And Ithaca.” Charlie gazed upward as if the answers were written on the ceiling. “Also, Ariadne, and my favorite, Stone Blind.”
Nora picked up a pen and used it to draw a squiggly line on Charlie’s palm. “If you forget the titles when you start talking to her, just look at this. It’ll make you think of a snake. Medusa will pop in your head and you’ll be off to the races. And, Charlie, remember what the goddesses and queens in those books wanted most.”
“They wanted to be treated as equals.”
“Exactly. She doesn’t want to be put on a pedestal. She wants to talk to you, reader to reader, human to human. Got it?”
“Okay. Um, I gotta go make her tea. Thanks.”
When Charlie’s break ended up being over an hour long, Nora and Sheldon exchanged high fives in the ticket agent’s booth.
* * *
That night, Nora recounted the story to her friends during a lull in their discussion of Daniel Mason’s North Woods.
“I’m glad that girl finally paid him some attention. He’s such a sweet boy,” said June.
Hester placed a wineglass filled with pumpkin mousse in front of Nora. “So, what happened? Did he ask her out?”
Nora couldn’t wait to drive her spoon through the cloud of cinnamon-dusted whipped cream perched on top of the glass, but she restrained herself in order to satisfy Hester’s curiosity. “They just talked about books, but Charlie was dancing on air for the rest of the day.”
“I’m proud of you for hiring him,” said Estella. “At first, I thought you were crazy—hiring the kid who stole from you—but you’re all about second chances. And look how well it’s working out.”
As the women dug into their dessert, they went around the circle, sharing their favorite quotes from North Woods.
When it was her turn, Hester said, “Am I the only one who thought about Wynter House while reading this book? I mean, there was so much history in Mason’s yellow house in the woods, and a lot of that history was sad. The ghosts of the two sisters who never left the house reminded me of Lucille and Lynette.”
“Me too,” said Nora. “I loved how their bond survived beyond the grave. I found it strangely comforting.”
Estella stirred milk into her decaf coffee. “I saw the ad for Wynter House in the paper. I guess the National Trust isn’t going to rescue it?”
Nora shook her head. “Too many houses need saving, and there aren’t enough funds to go around. I don’t know what’ll happen to the house.”
“I like the thought of it becoming a visitors’ center or a museum. I don’t think people should live there anymore,” June stated.
Hester gave her a quizzical look. “What about a hotel or a vacation rental?”
“Nobody’s going to sleep soundly in that house,” June insisted. “Don’t get me wrong. It should be preserved because it’s part of our history, but it needs a new identity. Otherwise, it’ll always be our town’s haunted mansion.”
“I wish a famous writer would buy it,” said Nora. “Someone with tons of money and talent. Like Stephen King or Neil Gaiman.”
Hester gazed at Nora over the rim of her mug. “Stranger things have happened. Charlie could do a social media post on Wynter House, the post could go viral, and the next thing we know, the house becomes a writers’ retreat or a miniature-book museum.”
Nora brightened. “Speaking of miniature books, there’s a good chance Lucille’s dollhouse and collection of miniature books will come back to North Carolina.”
“How do you know?” asked Estella. “The auction isn’t until November.”
“Because I got an email from Harper. She was told that a North Carolina state senator flew to New York to preview the dollhouse and the book collection. The senator told the folks at Sotheby’s that her grandfather had made her a similar dollhouse, but it had been destroyed when a tree fell on her house. She’s a tobacco heiress, so if she wants the Wynter House dollhouse and all the books, she can afford to buy it.”
“I hope she does,” said Estella. “I never had a dollhouse, but I loved my Barbie Dreamhouse. It was a used one that belonged to a girl down the street. She gave it to me when she stopped playing with her Barbies, and I loved giving my Barbie the beautiful, happy home I didn’t have. I know it sounds silly, but those dolls helped me survive some bad times.”
June smiled at her. “Doesn’t sound silly at all.”
The four friends talked about their favorite childhood toys until the conversation circled back to Harper.
“I didn’t think you’d ever hear from her again,” said June. “She wasn’t exactly your biggest fan.”
Nora snorted. “Still isn’t, but she did email me a few paint swatches she thought would look nice in my bedroom. They’re all soothing shades of blue, green, or yellow. I’m leaning toward a blue called Lullaby.”
“Oh! Maybe I should use that color in the nursery,” said Estella.
The conversation changed course once again as the women weighed in on which shades should and shouldn’t be used in a bedroom.
“You could paint every inch of my room in Lullaby, and I still wouldn’t sleep,” complained June. “These night sweats are killing me. How am I supposed to age gracefully when I’m dripping with sweat at two in the morning and wake up to find a new hair on my chin?”
Estella darted a nervous glance at June. “You’ve been dealing with insomnia ever since we met. I’ve always slept like the dead, so I don’t know how I’m going to function when I’m sleep deprived.”
“Not well,” said June. “But we’ll be here for you. I can’t wait to watch that baby while you take a nap or do whatever you want to do.”
“Same here!” echoed Hester.
Estella looked at Nora. “I know you’re not a baby person, so you can babysit when he or she is old enough to read.”
“Deal. I’ll make sure your kid has the best library in town.”
Eyes shining, Hester told them how she’d already done a sketch of Estella’s baby shower cake.
“I’ve been knitting things for this child since August,” laughed June.
“Three doting aunties. This kid is going to be so lucky.” Estella laid a hand on the soft mound of her belly and smiled at Hester. “How is your baby doing?”
“Good. She’s decided to go back to school for her teaching certificate. I’m going to spend Thanksgiving week with her, and she’ll tell me about her plans when I’m there. Can you believe she’s still writing me letters instead of calling or emailing me? I thought she might get tired of the Mennonite lifestyle as time went on, but she loves it. She’s thriving, too, and that’s all I care about.”
For a moment, Hester looked so vulnerable that Nora wanted to enfold her friend in her arms.
Catching Nora’s eye, Hester said, “I’m okay. I really am. I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine. It was awkward at first—seeing Jasper around town—but when he comes to the bakery now, we can talk and laugh like we used to. I’ll always love him, and I want him to be happy.”
“With Hollowell?” Estella asked in horror.
Hester gave a little shudder. “God, no. But he won’t stay with her for long. I honestly think he likes her dog better than he likes her.”
Everyone laughed.
“You know I’ve been kind of sad for months,” Hester told Nora. “But not anymore. I’m not lonely either. I’m enjoying my own company, which is something I learned from you.”
Nora’s heart swelled with affection for her friend. “And I learned something from you—that I needed to hire some help and have a life outside the bookstore. Because of you, I’m taking this Sunday off. Grant and I are heading up to the Shenandoah Valley for a day of leaf peeping, hiking, and flea market shopping.”
“I know all about your day trip,” June muttered. “Sheldon won’t shut up about it. He thinks you’re going to come back with a truck full of treasures for him to polish, price, and display. He must’ve been an antiques dealer in another life.”
“Or a crow,” said Nora. “It would explain his penchant for disco balls and glittery things.”
Estella gestured at Nora with her mug. “You and Grant should spend Saturday night at some romantic B and B. The Wynter case was really rough on both of you. You could use some sexual healing.”
The room erupted in giggles, squeals, and groans.
Hester started scrolling on her phone. Within minutes, she’d picked out several Airbnbs for Nora.
“You should totally spend the night at this place. It has a fire pit, an outdoor movie screen, and a hot tub. Look at the view! You could sit in the hot tub, drinking bubbly, and watch the sun go down behind the mountains.”
Taking the phone from her, Nora thought about how tired McCabe had been lately. The Wynter case had stretched on long after Beck’s arrest. It had taken weeks to identify Lynette’s body, as well as the remains of the child buried beside her. The bones in the bathtub were also tested, and DNA analysis confirmed that the fragments belonged to Frederick Vandercamp.
With no family to claim him, his remains were sent to Raleigh for cremation. Lucille’s sister and child were also cremated, but Harper had their ashes placed in a family vault alongside Lucille and Clem.
Long after the Wynters were laid to rest, McCabe was still dealing with the paperwork. A change of scenery would do him good, and as long as Nora could get someone to take care of his cats, she could surprise him with a night away.
“Let’s do it,” she told Hester. “I want to book that place.”
While Hester typed in Nora’s information and credit card, June suggested Nora hire her son to feed McCabe’s cats. “Tyson’s got half-a-dozen side hustles going on right now, and pet sitting is one of them. You know he’s been saving up for a house down payment, and he’s getting real close. I am so proud of that boy.”
Nora couldn’t help but think of Beck and what his life would’ve been like if he’d been raised by someone like June. She felt the dual pangs of sympathy and anger she always felt when she thought about Beck, and for a moment, it was September again, and she was in the library of Wynter House, staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Hey, boo,” June whispered, recognizing the pained expression on Nora’s face. “Those bad days are behind you. Time to look ahead. And Beck? Well, the things he’s done will haunt him for the rest of his life. But that doesn’t mean his life is ruined. He can still grow and change. He can still lead a purposeful life.”
Nora leaned into her friend’s shoulder. “Maybe he’s already started. Harper told me how much he loves working in the prison library. He sent her a long list of books to buy using his share of the money from the estate—when everything is settled.”
“Improving the library won’t erase his guilt, but it might ease it a bit. Especially if he sees the other inmates benefiting from the materials he buys,” said Hester. “Libraries are all about community. Maybe he can help create one.”
Estella bobbed her head in agreement. “My daddy became a reader while he was incarcerated, and look at him now, he reads more than I do.”
Hester told the group how Gus listened to audiobooks at the bakery. Every morning, well before dawn, he was in the bakery’s kitchen, mixing, kneading, and sliding pans into the ovens. Because the movements were second nature to him, he could listen to novels while he worked. At this point, he was listening to one or two books a week. At night, he read the books in print he’d purchased from Miracle Books.
“What about Harper?” asked June. “Do you think she’ll ever become a reader?”
Nora’s lips curved upward as she thought of the book she’d gifted to Harper. Based on what she’d written in her email, Harper had read several chapters.
“I never thought that woman’s name would make you smile,” said Hester.
“I’m smiling because of her email. At the very end of it, she made a request.”
Estella tapped her chin. “Let me guess. She wants you to donate a kidney.”
“Or fly to Dallas to walk her dogs.”
“Or get a red wine stain out of her white shag carpet.”
Laughing, Nora held up her hands. “It’s a good thing. Actually, it’s a great thing. It’s my reason for being. My purpose in life. The thing I do best and never get tired of doing. Harper Wynter asked me for a book recommendation.”
The other women stared at her in surprise. And then, June picked up her coffee cup and said, “To the new reader.”
“To the new reader,” the other women echoed.
The four friends gazed at the stacks, their eyes shining with tenderness as they moved over the books. The whole shop was aglow with light and color. The air smelled of coffee and autumn leaves. Music tiptoed through the speakers. The women in the Readers’ Circle were full and warm, relaxed and happy.
This is my favorite time of the week, every week, thought Nora.
She knew her friends were thinking the same thing. For an hour or two every week, they had this time together. A time of food, sisterhood, and books. A time worth more than any treasure.
Waving her hand toward the shelves, Nora said, “So. What should we read next?”