Dora’s first words were a pained cry. “Where have you been? Minnie was here this morning begging me not to go to the police. She doesn’t want Deanna to get a bad reputation. I had no idea where you’d gotten to and couldn’t promise her anything.” She stopped. “You’ve been out all night! You worried me to death.”
She moved on without waiting for Jenny to answer. “Now Minnie’s mad at me and says she will never take one single book out of my library ever again in her whole life if we ruin her daughter.”
Jenny put her arms around her quaking mother. “Mom, I talked to Ed. He says what’s done to Johnny and Deanna will be up to you. You don’t have to press charges if you don’t want to. Maybe just get Johnny or Deanna to repay what it’s costing you.”
“Johnny Arlen doesn’t have a pot to . . . well, you know he’s got nothing. Barely works. Drinks. I can’t tell you, Jenny, how happy I am you never married that boy.” She sighed, looking hard into her daughter’s face. “I’m not pressing charges and I won’t make them pay. The books cost me nothing. People have been dropping off more than I can use in a month of Sundays. Anyway, Tony gave me a very fair deal on the new houses. Neighbors are already offering to man the libraries on given days to take the pressure off me—though I don’t mind it at all. Still, it will be nice to see my neighbors more often and share the books with them. Especially with children. A few little ones have come to the door asking if their library’s open yet.”
“So you won’t press charges?”
Dora shook her head. “There’s just one thing I’d like. I’d like to talk to them. I want them to know what your dad’s library means to me and to the town. I’d like them to know about books—for real. That they’re not just paper and cardboard. It’s about learning what people think and do outside of Bear Falls. It’s like . . .” Dora spread her arms wide. “Your father offered me a whole new world with his gift. And a whole new—bigger—world to the town. I’d like to say that to them.”
“Oh. Something else. What was it now?” She shook her head. “Anyway, Lisa called. She’s so nervous. Can’t stop thinking about us. She says I could be in danger, living here where two people got killed. I tried to tell her I’m just fine, and I’ve got you. Maybe you should call her.”
“Was that what you forgot?”
She shook her head and put her hands to her cheeks. “No. It was Abigail Cane. She called, wanted to talk to you. I told her you were out and I didn’t know when you were getting home. I asked if she wanted you to call back but she said no. She’ll get ahold of you as soon as she can.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? ‘As soon as she can’?”
Dora shrugged. “You know Abigail. Everything in her life’s always been the most important thing that ever happened to anybody. Personally, I think money does that to people, makes them important in their own head.”
“I’ll call Lisa.” She headed to the kitchen to get hot tea and lemon slices to go with it. She felt in need of a little pampering. “You see that house Zoe’s painting?”
“Darling. Just darling. And she just got a new house for her garden. Funniest fairy you ever saw is going to live there. Little being’s got a wig on her head, with a tiny daisy sticking straight up.”
Jenny, halfway to the kitchen, turned to say, “Think I should get into fairy houses?”
“That would be nice, dear,” Dora called after her.
“Kidding, Mom. Just kidding.”
***
By late afternoon, Abigail Cane still hadn’t called. Jenny phoned Lisa to tell her everything that had been going on and was given a stern warning to call every day.
“If you don’t, I’m going to go crazy worrying. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to drop everything and get on a plane.”
The conversation ended with Jenny promising a phone call every day.
“Love you, Jenny.” There was a break in Lisa’s voice. “Don’t want to lose you.”
“Me, either. I don’t want to lose me.”
“Brat,” Lisa said and hung up.
Jenny heard nothing from Abigail in the next hour. She gave up waiting and went next door to see Zoe, missing her daily dose of mayhem and madness.
A voice yelled, “Come on in!” after after Jenny toured the fairy gardens to visit the new fairy with a daisy growing out of her head and then said hi to each of the other peeking faces, all having moved since her last trip around. An unsettling idea—that the fairies watched her from different houses and different windows. Even worse, that they’d seen a man murdered. But even worse than all of it, Jenny told herself, was the fact that Zoe’d gotten her to believe in fairies.
Zoe was on the phone when Jenny walked in. She was giving all short answers. Nods and smiles and big, wide-opened eyes. “Of course I want to go. Oh, that. Don’t worry. I’m certain I’ll have no trouble. Why, after all, what human being would want to stand in my way. You’ll come here? Why, Christopher, you don’t need to . . . of course, I understand. Yes, I’ll be on time. Waiting. Time is of the essence. You’ll have it planned to the minute, I’m sure.”
She hung up and turned to Jenny. “Three weeks!” she crowed. “Three weeks! The White Rabbit’s coming for me. Heavens to teacups! What a surprise! An award!” Zoe clapped her little hands. “A big, New York award. That was Christopher Morley. He said he’s very proud of me and my work.”
“An award? For what?” Jenny asked before thinking.
Zoe put her hands at her waist and an exasperated look on her face. “For my book, of course. What did you think it was—best fairy garden in the world?”
“Could be,” Jenny said.
“Well, it isn’t. It’s the National Award for Literary Research. Me! Can you imagine? Me and my Oz book, The Wizard of Oz as Dream. Christopher said this will make the book a classic.” Her face slowly darkened. “Oh goodness, what does one wear to such an affair? I won’t know a soul.”
“You’ll know Mr. Morley.”
“But will I enjoy myself?” Her happiness slipped down a long slope. “You met Christopher. No frivolity. Time. Time. Time. A very busy man. No, no, no. I’ll go with him and act happy.”
“But you can’t leave town!” Jenny felt like Mary Poppins at the up-in-the-air tea party, all brought down by a sad thought. “Ed Warner warned you.”
“Three weeks, Jenny! We have three weeks to put all of this to rest. I think I’m onto something new right now. Something I’ve been trying to figure out about those letters.”
“Ah, Sherlock. I should never have doubted.”
“Don’t make fun. If I’m not out of trouble by three weeks from now, I’ll be hanging in the town square. A warning to future writers.”
“Zoe,” Jenny chided, “I’ve had enough drama for one day. I think I’ve got Tony mad at me.” She told Zoe about her reluctance to believe Johnny murdered anybody and how Tony took it.
“He should be angry,” Zoe said. “He’s a good man, Jenny. You don’t seem able to pick a good one from a bad one.”
“Pick! Pick!” Jenny mimicked her. “Is that like picking apples? So far two have had worms.”
“Silly analogy.”
“You said to look behind words. Pick. Pick. Pick. Pick my nose. Pick my seat. Pick!” She stuck her tongue out at Zoe, which made both of them laugh.