Chapter 10
Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?
—Henry Ward Beecher
Nora got up early, dressed in comfy clothes, and walked through the golden autumnal woods until her footpath merged with a marked trail. As she climbed the hills rising above Miracle Springs, her mind flitted from one thought to the next. She worried about Celeste. And Jed. She wondered what Connie and her she-wolves were up to. She made to-do lists.
This mental maelstrom only quieted when she paused at a breathtaking view. As soon as her body resumed motion, so did her mind. She reviewed what she’d learned about Pine Hollow and Still Waters, replaying details from the article on Lazarus Harper, the nuances of CBD oil, the online art gallery, and the accusation that the community was a cult.
The higher Nora climbed, the harder her legs and lungs worked. The exertion felt good, but eventually, she had to take off her sweatshirt and tie it around her waist. Underneath, she was wearing her HAPPIER THAN A KID AT A BOOK FAIR T-shirt, which was one of Jed’s favorites. She touched the soft fabric and decided to call him when she was back in cell phone range.
What about McCabe? a niggling voice asked. Don’t you want to compare notes on Pine Hollow? See if you found anything he didn’t?
The idea was ridiculous. McCabe could run a background check on Cecily Leopold. He could call whatever law enforcement agency had jurisdiction over Still Waters and ask for a complete lowdown. He and his team probably gathered more information in ten minutes than Nora had in two hours.
Which leaves me where?
She and her friends could continue to help Celeste. They could bake muffins, cook meals, and work at Soothe. But these things wouldn’t make Celeste feel safe or comforted. She’d still go upstairs after work and stay in her apartment until morning. And while a social worker was checking in, and McCabe was keeping tabs on Celeste’s whereabouts, they couldn’t ease her loneliness or dispel her fears. She needed friends. Female friends. A group of women to fill her sad, silent home with noise, food, and cheer.
“The Secret, Book, and Scone Society needs to make a house call,” Nora declared as she reached the bottom of the trail.
At home, she showered, brewed a cup of cinnamon tea, and called Jed. When he didn’t answer, she left a message saying that she missed him and that she hoped his mother was on the mend. She hesitated for a moment before telling him that she and her friends were helping a local woman who’d just lost her daughter. Then, to lighten the mood, she added, “In other news, I have a nemesis. I’m like a comic book character. I might even need a costume. Maybe a jumpsuit and Chuck Taylors. Anyway, I don’t think my bookish superpowers will have any effect on this woman.”
Having rambled long enough, Nora asked Jed to get back to her and hung up.
At the bookshop, she vacuumed floors and dusted shelves. She kept expecting Jed to call and give her an excuse to stop cleaning, but he didn’t.
“Look at you, all bright-eyed and bushy-browed,” Sheldon said upon his arrival.
Nora put her fingers to her face. “Is it bad? Like Count Olaf bad?”
Sheldon took a Maleficent mug down from the pegboard. “It’s just one white hair. Ignore me. You know I’m like the Muppet in the trash can until I have my coffee.”
“A white hair?”
Nora dug a compact out of her bag and examined her brows. She saw the offensive hair immediately, nestled in the middle of her left brow. And then, she spotted a second white hair.
“Jesus. I aged overnight.”
Once he had the coffee brewing, Sheldon cleaned a pair of tweezers, pushed Nora into a chair, and deftly plucked her “white whiskers.”
A few minutes later he handed Nora a steaming cup of coffee. “I shouldn’t poke fun at you with all that you’re going through. Do you want to vent? I promise to be nice.”
Six months ago, Nora would have said no. But talking to Sheldon always made her feel better. He was an excellent listener. He sat very still and never interrupted. His gaze was soft and sympathetic. And he was completely trustworthy.
“I think I do,” Nora said.
Sheldon settled deeper into his chair and waited for her to begin.
“I’ve been putting on a show—acting like this thing with Connie doesn’t scare me, but it does. Remember the last time Miracle Books was vandalized? Between the insurance claims and the police report, I felt like a victim. I never wanted to feel like that again.” Nora sipped her coffee. “Connie isn’t going to let this go. She made that perfectly clear. I wish I could prepare for whatever she plans to throw at me next, but I can’t. There might be a much bigger, scarier beast in town than Connie Knapp.”
After summarizing everything she’d found online last night, Nora fell silent. She cradled her mug and gave Sheldon time to process the glut of information.
He spent several moments gazing into the middle distance. Finally, he looked at Nora and said, “If this Harper guy is creeping around Miracle Springs because he’s mad at Celeste, what can you do about it? I thought you trusted McCabe and Company? Don’t you think they’re capable of handling the problem?”
Nora said, “I trust McCabe, but Celeste doesn’t. She won’t tell him what he needs to know. Why not? Her daughter’s dead. Why wouldn’t Celeste do everything in her power to find out what happened? Is she afraid that McCabe will find out about Lazarus Harper? Or something worse?” She put her coffee cup down with a forceful thud. “Celeste accused Bren of keeping secrets, and now, she’s doing the same thing. How can McCabe protect her without knowing who her enemies are?”
“I’m worried about Celeste, but I’m worried about you too.”
Nora shrugged. “I keep telling myself that once I turned that book page over to McCabe, I was no longer in the equation, but I don’t really believe that. Why was it under my mat in the first place? Why do I feel like I’ve been marked?”
Embarrassed by the Old Testament theatricality of that last line, Nora averted her eyes.
When she glanced over at Sheldon again, his mouth was pinched with worry. “For whatever reason, you’re in the center of two storms. Connie Knapp has decreed you a bad influence on our youth, and she’ll wage war against you as long as she has command over her Mama Bear soldiers. As for the second target, that’s your penalty for showing an interest in Bren.”
Nora started to protest, but Sheldon shushed her. “You home in on certain people. People with a need. So do June, Hester, and Estella. You’re the magical women of this town, and you need to use your powers to get Celeste to talk. The cork has to come out that bottle, though it might take a bottle or two to get the words flowing.”
“I don’t like the idea of using booze to coerce her.”
Sheldon looped his index finger through the handles of their empty coffee mugs and stood up. “You know what they say about extraordinary circumstances.”
“They call for extraordinary measures?”
Sheldon spread his hands. “Where I come from, that’s called tequila.”
* * *
Nora sent a group text to the members of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society detailing her plan to visit Celeste. She then asked what evening would work best. After a brief flurry of messages, the group settled on Thursday.
Nora was just penciling the event on her desk calendar when Hester sent another text.
We can’t show up with food and expect C to talk. It’s too much pressure. We need a distraction. It’s not a Pictionary or card game kind of night.
Nora thought about the various books she had on grieving. Some of the workbooks included activities like journaling, writing letters to loved ones, creating memory boards, or filling a box with special objects.
One of my books will have the answer, she replied. I’ll find something.
And then Estella typed. It’s gonna be awkward. Should we bring wine?
June and Hester sent thumbs-up emojis.
Nora refused to use emoticons, so she just typed, Yes.
She put her phone away and glanced out the window in time to see the trolley from the lodge pass by. The morning rush was about to begin.
Nora carried a broom outside and swept the sidewalk in front of the shop. The painted pumpkin from last week’s festival was still in the planter, but without the farm-to-table context, its food quote had lost its charm. Nora decided to replace it with a plain pumpkin.
After relocating the black pumpkin to the stockroom, she jogged up the street to the hardware store where she bought a tall pumpkin with a twisty stem, a flowering kale, and a creeping Jennie. She planted the kale and the creeping Jennie in the front half of her container and deposited the pumpkin in the back.
She was watering the plants when a couple approached the display window. Nora saw them out of the corner of her eye, but the woman spoke before she had the chance to turn and say hello.
“Didn’t our guide tell us to skip this store?”
“Yep,” answered the man.
“Well, I’m not going to listen to her. I like bookstores. Don’t you, Hank?”
“Yep.”
Nora stepped aside to give the couple a wide berth. She didn’t follow them into the shop. Instead, she glanced up and down the sidewalk, searching for other lodge visitors. They were easy to pick out of a crowd because every guest received a turquoise shopping tote with the lodge logo upon check-in.
Nora saw two women carrying the telltale totes pause in front of a clothing boutique. After briefly examining a piece of paper, they entered the shop. What was written on that piece of paper? A list of shops to visit? Or a list of shops to skip?
A vision of Connie’s face surfaced in Nora’s mind.
“I’ll kill her,” she muttered, and marched into the bookstore.
For once, she didn’t notice the rainbow-colored book spines or smell the sweet perfume of coffee, leather, and paper. She didn’t hear the companionable creak of pine boards under her feet or the delightful sigh of pages being turned. The only thing that got through the hornet’s nest of anger in her head was the hiss of the espresso machine’s steam wand.
Nora felt like the milk Sheldon was heating. She was a whirlpool of air bubbles on the brink of scalding, and only one thing could cool her down. She needed to pair the right book with the right reader. If she could make a bookish match, she could stop her world from tilting for a little while.
She found the man named Hank and the woman he’d come in with browsing new releases in the Mystery section. After introducing herself, Nora asked if they needed any help.
“I believe we do,” said the woman. She pointed at her chest. “I’m Gertie and this is my husband, Hank. We’re visiting Hank’s sister this Thanksgiving, and I’d like to take her a hostess gift. She loves to read but is very particular about her books. She can’t abide swearing, intense violence, or adult content, if you catch my drift.”
“I do,” said Nora. “Is she a fan of mysteries?”
“She’s wild about them. She has a huge collection of Agatha Christie novels, and she’s read most of them twice. I’d like to give her more mysteries like those. Classy and clean.”
“Should we stick to books set in England?”
Gertie considered this. “I think she’s ready for a new setting. In fact, I bet she’d love a Southern setting. She lives in a small town in Mississippi. She has two cats, a dog, and several horses. She volunteers at her local animal shelter and at the library. She’s a wonderful woman.”
Nora smiled. “Sure sounds like it. And you’d be wonderful sister-in-law for introducing her to a new series set in Mississippi. I know of two terrific candidates.” She pulled a book off the shelf and handed it to the woman. “I have a feeling that your sister-in-law would get a kick out of Carolyn Haines’s sleuth, Sarah Booth Delaney. She’s an unconventional Southern belle with a penchant for solving crimes, and Ms. Haines is an animal lover and advocate.”
“How fabulous. And I see that it’s a long-running series, so if my sister-in-law falls in love with the first book, we can buy her more for Christmas!” Gertie pocketed her phone and passed Them Bones to her husband. “Would you hold on to this, Hank?”
“Speaking of libraries,” Nora said, reaching for another book. “This is Murder Past Due. It’s the first book in the Cat in the Stack series by Miranda James. It’s also set in Mississippi. It features a charming librarian named Charlie Harris and his equally charming cat, Diesel.”
Gertie put a hand on Nora’s arm. “Oh, just look at that darling cover! I want to read this one too. It’s just perfect. I’m so glad we came in today. Aren’t you, Hank?”
Before Hank could reply with his ubiquitous “yep,” Nora asked if she could help him find a special book.
Hank’s cheeks turned pink. Though was he was probably in his seventies, he looked like a little boy who hadn’t expected his teacher to call on him.
“I really enjoyed our train ride from Asheville. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a train, but I’ve always liked them. My sister gave me Murder on the Orient Express for Christmas one year, and I read it in one night. Do you have other mysteries with trains?”
“Let me think.” Nora’s eyes moved over the shelves. “Have you read The Great Train Robbery or Thrilling Stories of the Railway?”
Hank confessed that he’d never heard of either book.
“My husband hasn’t had much time to read,” Gertie said, smiling tenderly at Hank. “He worked every day of the week so that our five kids could graduate from college free and clear of loans. He finally retired a few months ago, and his GP wants him to take it easy. So if books with trains will help him relax, then we’ll take all of them. I’ve always spent my evenings reading, and now, my love will be joining me.”
Later, after Gertie and Hank had paid for their books and were quietly deliberating over whether to snack on chocolate book pockets or grab something at the Gingerbread House after visiting another shop or two, Nora’s anger returned. It wasn’t as fierce as before, but it was there.
The bookstore should have been busier. There should have been more lodge guests browsing the shelves, but they weren’t even coming inside. More than once, Nora saw people with turquoise totes stop in front of the display window. They’d study the magical, bookish scene before walking away, their lips pursed in disapproval.
“Gertie?” Nora called from behind the checkout counter. “You and Hank definitely want to visit the bakery. If the Sugar Plum Fairy traded her wings for an apron, you’d have Hester, the owner. Not only is her food delicious, but it’ll make you feel good too.”
“Sounds like we should go there next,” said Hank. “Thanks for the advice.”
Coming out from behind the checkout counter, Nora approached the couple. “Seems like you’re getting plenty of that today. I overheard you say that you were told to skip this store. I won’t mention it to your guide, but lodge employees don’t usually tell guests where to shop.”
Hank pointed at the logo on his tote bag. “It wasn’t our guide. It was the concierge.”
“That’s right,” added Gertie. “She got on the tour bus and told us that most of the stores in town were gold stars, but a few were what she called ‘think twice’ shops. We should think twice before visiting those merchants. Isn’t that what she said, Hank?”
“Yep.”
Nora struggled to maintain her calm. “What stores were on her think twice list?”
Gertie fished around in her purse and withdrew a tiny notepad. “Soothe, Red Bird Gallery and Gifts, and Miracle Books.”
Nora feigned confusion. “Did the concierge say why those places were on the list?”
Gertie exchanged a puzzled look with her husband before answering. “It seems strange, now that we’ve been in your shop, but the lady said that these places were considered—what was the word, Hank?”
“Disreputable.”
“That’s it. She said that she and her friends steered clear of those stores, so we might want to as well.” Seeing the hurt in Nora’s eyes, Gertie reached out and took her hand. As she gazed down at the bubbled skin and the partial pinkie finger, her face filled with compassion. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, Hank and I will tell every guest not to pay a lick of attention to that concierge. You made us feel like family, and we’ll come back again. You can count on it.”
Gertie’s kindness tamped down Nora’s fury, but not for long. The couple was barely out the door before Nora was calling June.
“You’re shitting me!” June exclaimed when she heard what had happened. “That concierge is breaking the rules. Lodge employees aren’t supposed to recommend one local business over another. The concierge is supposed to pass out the downtown shopping map, explain the trolley schedule, and make dining reservations. My boss will lose his mind when he finds out that this woman was bashing local businesses.”
“I want her to lose something,” Nora seethed. “A few teeth would be a good start.”
“Honey, I’ve got this,” June said. “I’m going to record this woman’s think twice speech. I’ll come to town on the next trolley, but I need to hurry if I want a seat in the back. I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses and keep my face hidden behind a map. I tell you, girl, I’ve got this.”
Nora relaxed a little. If anyone could put this situation to rights, it was June.
Around noon, Nora waited for the lunch rush to begin. This was a popular time for locals to pick up special orders or select their next read. It was also when many of the lodge guests who’d started shopping at the other end of town reached Miracle Books.
Gertie and Hank must have done something to influence their fellow trolley riders, because the bookshop was busy from noon until two thirty. As Nora put away strays, she counted customers.
“We have seven customers and less than an hour until the midafternoon rush,” she told Sheldon. “I feel bad, but by the time I got to Soothe, I’d pretty much have to turn around and come back. I’ll call Celeste and let her know that I’m not coming.”
Sheldon, who had a sink filled with dirty mugs, didn’t bother to hide his relief. “That means I can go home, take a hot bath, and then spend the evening in a recliner with my heating pads.”
One look at Sheldon’s swollen wrists and knuckles and Nora knew that he was having nasty rheumatoid arthritis flares. She pointed at the wall clock. “You’re leaving now. Turn around. I’m untying your apron. Don’t bother arguing.”
“I won’t. Everything hurts.”
Nora pulled the bow loose and grabbed the apron before it could fall to the floor. When Sheldon turned back around, she wagged a finger at him. “You’re supposed to tell me when you’re hurting. I’d rather have you here for a few hours a day than in bed for days in a row. No acts of heroism. That was our deal.”
“Look who’s talking, Edna St. Vincent Millay,” he said. “You’re burning your candle on both ends so fast that you’ll be a puddle of wax by Halloween. You can’t fix your own problems if you’re wrapped up in your customers’ problems, Celeste’s problems, and Jed’s problems too.”
Nora cocked her head. “I’m not trying to solve a problem for Jed. His mom’s sick. I can’t change that. Or are you talking about something else? What do you know, Sheldon? Come on. Out with it.”
“Okay, okay!” Sheldon threw up his hands in surrender. “He called about twenty minutes ago. I couldn’t interrupt you because you were talking to that man who just lost his dog, but I know that Jed’s going to ask for something you can’t give him.”
“Like what?”
Shaking his head, Sheldon grabbed his lunchbox and headed for the door. “I am not delivering that message. No way. You’ll just have to call him back.” He paused to add, “From somewhere private.”
Even though Sheldon’s cryptic behavior put her on edge, Nora called Celeste first. She’d already missed half of her voluntary shift by that point, but Celeste told her not to worry.
“It’s been a slow day,” she said. “I know slow isn’t profitable, but it was nice to talk to people without being rushed. Those customers made me feel like what I’m doing is worthwhile.”
“It is,” Nora said, pushing aside thoughts of Lazarus Harper. “Listen, Celeste, I’m sure you’re tired at the end of the day, but my friends and I would really like to visit with you on Thursday evening. It’d be me, Hester, Estella, and June. We’ll just bring some food and sit and talk for a bit. What do you say?”
The pause on the other end of the line felt interminable. Finally, Nora heard a faint sniffle. Then Celeste whispered, “Okay.”
“Okay. Take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nora was thrilled that Celeste had agreed to dinner, but her delight didn’t last long. As she walked to the front of the shop to call Jed, her anxiety returned full force.
When Jed didn’t pick up, she left a message saying that she was sorry she missed his call and that she’d definitely answer the phone the next time he tried to reach her.
What was Jed going to ask her? Did he want her to take care of Henry Higgins? Nora didn’t know how she’d manage a dog on top of everything else, but she’d find a way.
“It can’t be that,” she muttered as she washed the last mug. “Sheldon would have told me.”
The sleigh bells clanged, and seconds later, two boys raced past the ticket agent’s booth on their way to the children’s corner. Their mother, an avid reader and loyal customer, wasn’t far behind.
“Hey, Nora.” After taking a moment to catch her breath, she said, “I’d love a Louisa May Alcott for me, a book on Christopher Columbus for Max, and a book on life cycles for Davis. Progress reports go home next Friday, which means projects for everyone. Due Monday. Fun, fun!”
Other mothers and children arrived with similar requests, and the afternoon passed in a blur as Nora handed children books on sea voyages, shipbuilding, explorers, ecosystems, and weather patterns. She also rang up lots of Scottish romance novels.
“I wonder how Bill would look in a kilt,” one woman said to another as they headed for the door. “I could give it to him for Christmas.”
“Where would he wear it?” asked her friend.
The first woman put her hands over her daughter’s ears and said, “Where do you think? The bedroom!”
Her friend’s reply was lost in the clamor of the sleigh bells, but Nora took pleasure in the smiles on the women’s faces and the bags of books dangling from their hands.
The midafternoon rush never ebbed, and before Nora knew it, the workday was over. She’d just finished straightening the shelves and was preparing to lock the front door and turn off the light over the checkout counter when her phone rang. It was Jed.
“You’ve been on my mind all day,” Nora said. “How are you?”
“Horrible. Mom’s in a coma.” He drew in a watery breath. “I’m really scared, Nora.”
Nora heard the pain in Jed’s voice and wished she could ease it for him. Her heart twisted in sympathy, and she pressed the phone closer to her cheek as if she were pressing his body closer to hers. “I’m so sorry, Jed. Can I do anything to help?”
“I need you. Here. Now.” This came out in a raw whisper, as if Jed didn’t have the strength for more. “I don’t want to go through this alone. I’m so tired. I need you to come and be with me.”
His request floored Nora. She’d expected him to ask her to take care of his dog, not borrow someone’s car and drive across the state to join him at his mother’s bedside. There was no way she could do that. She couldn’t abandon Celeste. She couldn’t leave while Connie Knapp and the Women of Lasting Values were targeting Miracle Books. And the Highland Games crowd would be heading to Miracle Springs in a few days. It was impossible.
“Jed . . .”
She didn’t need to say more. The refusal was in her apologetic tone.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She was sorry. Sorry that she couldn’t be with him. Sorry that she had to let him down. Sorry that she’d hurt him when he was already hurting.
“Me too.” He sounded deflated, but also angry. “Just this once, I hoped you’d put me first.”
She heard a click, and Jed was gone.
Nora stood in her empty shop, feeling stunned. It was as if a grenade had detonated, but she hadn’t seen it land or heard the explosion.
“What just happened?” she asked the books, but they had nothing to say. The shelves were swathed in shadow. The colorful spines were a study of grays. All the titles had closed their eyes for the night.
“It’s not your fault,” Nora said, putting her hand on the closest book. “I knew this time would come. When I wouldn’t be enough for him.”
After running her fingertips down another book spine in an attempt to recover her equilibrium, she turned to the front to lock up for the night.
Nora was in a daze as she flipped the sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED, which was probably why she didn’t react when she saw that Sheriff McCabe had cracked the front door.
“I know you’re closed, but there’s someone I want you to meet before you head home. Do you have a minute?”
A woman stood on the sidewalk, looking at something across the street. With her face averted, all Nora could see was a mass of auburn curls.
Suddenly, the woman turned toward the bookshop, and Nora felt like she’d been sucker-punched. She forgot how to breathe. The bones in her legs wobbled. She clutched the doorjamb, unaware that her arms were shaking.
“Are you okay?” McCabe began to push through the doorway. “You’re white as a ghost.”
She’s the ghost.
Nora couldn’t think straight. She was confused—torn between the present and the past.
Pressing her palm against McCabe’s chest, Nora stopped him from coming inside. “It’s not a good time.”
She closed the door in his face, locked it, and vanished into the stacks.
In the middle of the Fiction section, she sank to the floor and hugged her knees.
She would hide there, among all the stories, until it was safe to come out.