Tuesday proved difficult. All day I put up with Norman moving in and out of my store, my store. The angrier I got at Norman, the more the idea of staying and making a go of the store on my own appealed to me. Maybe it was that psychological thing where kids want to play with a toy only when another child desires it. Norman wanted what I had, and I was determined I would keep it. He spent the day peering over my shoulder, telling me what a great job I was doing for him and chatting with my few customers. He’d stood outside my door at one point for over an hour, announcing to everyone who passed that he now owned Baxter’s Book Emporium. The final straw came in the early afternoon when I overheard a conversation with an elderly female customer who made the mistake of stopping to talk with him.
“What are your plans for the bookstore?” she sweetly asked.
“I’ll probably get rid of all this old junk cluttering up the shelves and turn this place into a first-class adult video store. I may even add a couple of peep-show booths in the back.”
The woman gasped and placed her hand at her throat. “What?” she asked weakly.
“Sure. It’ll get more male customers into the downtown area. Good for everyone’s businesses. It’ll help change the profile of the typical customer around here. I’ll bet it’ll be the most popular store in town with the men.” Norman elbowed the woman, continuing as she paled even further. “And I’ll bet we’ll have our share of women customers too. How about a discount coupon? Or you could come by and audition for a booth space. I’m sure there would be guys who’d want to see a more mature woman put on a show.” He winked at her.
The lady finally managed to gain strength from her building indignation at such rude insinuations. “I would never stoop to darken the door of such a place. As a matter of fact”—she aimed this comment at me as I rushed to the door to try to stop Norman’s outrageous claims—“I’ll never come back to this store. I’ll be sure to tell all of my friends not to come here either. And you, young lady, should be ashamed working in a place like this. What would your mother say?” With that, the woman stormed down the sidewalk, her back rigid and her nose in the air.
By the time I’d recovered from the shock enough to go after Norman, he’d walked beyond my reach, calling over his shoulder that he was going to grab a late lunch. I stood on the sidewalk watching the retreating figure move down the street, gritting my teeth each time he stopped to chat with folks and point at my bookstore. It was obvious he was repeating his story of an adult video store, as several people angrily pulled away from him and gave me scathing looks as they passed me, leaving me to fantasize about throttling my supposed cousin.
“That man is going to ruin any chance of this bookstore succeeding.” I kicked a small stone lying on the sidewalk, watching it skitter into the street. “One of these days, someone is going to shut him up permanently, but by then it’ll probably be too late for my poor store.”
I jumped when I heard a voice behind me. “Problems?”
I turned and found myself face-to-face with none other than Olivia Hokes. Just what I needed. Although at this point I had to be nice to any neighbors still willing to talk to me. “Yes. I’m trying to figure out how not to lose every possible customer I could ever have.” I hoped she hadn’t heard my comment about someone permanently shutting Norman up. I looked back and burned another hole into his retreating figure with imaginary lasers from my eyes.
Following my gaze, Olivia’s watched Norman’s back as he distanced himself from my anger. “Is that nice man bothering you?”
“Nice?” I couldn’t keep my voice from exploding out at the tiny woman, and when she flinched and took a step back, I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Miss Hokes, it’s simply that he’s ruining my business, and I have no way to stop him.”
“How is he managing to ruin your business?” Olivia’s concern seemed genuine.
Maybe I had misjudged her. Could be I’d previously caught her on a bad day. Both times. At least today didn’t seem to be one of them. “Earlier he told me he’d turn this place into a Starbucks. Now he’s telling everyone he owns the place now and is going to turn it into an adult video store with peep-show booths in back. He’s alienating customers, and no one will want to shop here.” My chest tightened, and my throat closed on the last words.
Olivia put her hand on her chest. “Oh my,” she gasped. “I can see why you’re mad. But how is he getting away with saying he owns the place? I thought Paul left it to you.”
“He did.” I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to block the building headache I’d fought since Norman had shown up again first thing this morning. “The only problem is Norman says he’s the rightful heir. He claims to be Uncle Paul’s illegitimate son.”
“Oh no.” The hand remained at the tiny woman’s chest. “That doesn’t sound like the Paul Baxter I knew. What are you going to do?”
“There’s apparently not much I can do right now.” I expelled a frustrated breath. “I tried to reach my parents last night, but Mom’s still kind of hazy on pain pills.” At her odd look, I quickly added, “She had surgery on one of her spinal disks. Dad wasn’t sure about things, and he asked me to wait a couple of days until she’s a little more herself. I hope they can help fight Norman. As it is, though, I have to put up with him until Mom’s a little more clearheaded.”
The older woman patted my arm. “If there’s any way we can help, call us.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Olivia disappeared back inside the antique clothing store. I shook my head at the odd conversation. What had made the woman stand up for Uncle Paul, a man she seemed to intensely dislike?
I shook my head once more and reentered the bookstore when Mason signaled I had a phone call. After crossing the room with quick strides, I picked up the receiver. “May I help you?” I hoped my voice came out sounding as cheerful as I meant it to be.
“Miss Quinn?” The voice on the other end sounded official.
“This is Jenna Quinn. May I help you?” I repeated my question.
“I’m with Hokes Folly Community Bank. We’ve had to freeze the accounts of the late Paul Baxter.”
“On what grounds?” My stomach clenched, and I closed my eyes, knowing the answer.
“We’ve received an affidavit from a law firm in Raleigh stating that a Norman Childers is contesting the disbursement of Paul Baxter’s trust. Mr. Childers claims to be the rightful beneficiary, and if that’s the case, we cannot release the funds to anyone but him. We have to wait to see how this all works out.”
I gripped the phone tightly and swallowed back a snotty retort. After all, it wasn’t this poor woman’s fault. She was only the bearer of bad news. “Thank you so much for notifying me. I haven’t written any checks against the account yet, so there should be no problems.”
After saying goodbye, it was all I could do not to slam the phone down as hard as I could, but instead I placed the phone on the base with a gentleness I didn’t feel. No sooner had I hung up than it rang again.
“Now what?” I reached for the receiver. “Baxter’s Book Emporium.” I tried to put on my cheerful bookseller voice once more. After all, I couldn’t afford to lose a customer right now because I was rude to them on the phone.
“Miss Quinn?”
I couldn’t quite place the familiar voice. “Yes?”
“This is Horace Grimes. May I talk to you for a moment?” His strained tones communicated his unease with the call.
“Sure. What’s up?” I had a feeling I was going to regret asking.
He cleared his throat. “Norman Childers is officially contesting the trust disbursement. Since we have to wait until we have the correct beneficiary identified, we cannot allow one or the other of you to have access to the store without proper supervision. I’m sorry.”
“Can he really do all of this with just a few old papers? Can’t we do a DNA test or something?” My chest tightened, and I tried to calm my breathing.
“So far, Norman has not responded to a request for a test. I’m preparing legal papers to send to his attorney insisting on it. However, even then it could take weeks to get it through the court and to get a test completed.”
The room spun, and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened to come. “I’ll try to wrap things up here and have the keys to the store to you first thing in the morning. Will that be okay?”
“Yes. That’s fine.” Horace sounded relieved.
“If there’s nothing more …”
“Actually, there is the little matter of the apartment. You might not own it either. You’ll either have to move out by the end of the day tomorrow or you’ll have to sign an agreement to pay rent into the trust.”
My knees wobbled, and I sat on the phone table with a thump, causing its spindly legs to shift and creak. Fortunately, it didn’t collapse, but it would’ve fit the situation if it had. Everything else seemed to be falling out from under me again. Why not this?
Mentally I assessed my dwindling finances, knowing it wouldn’t take long to deplete what was left. My stomach plummeted. “I’ll sign the agreement, Mr. Grimes. Norman Childers may be able to ruin my business and may try to steal my inheritance, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to put me out on the street as well.” Not when I finally have a home again!
Ignoring the fact that Horace Grimes was no more responsible for any of this than the bank lady, I disconnected the call without saying goodbye, knowing I would burst into tears if I tried to utter another word. This was unfortunate, since the phone rang for the third time almost immediately.
“Baxter’s Book Emporium.” There was no hope of getting the cheerful tone I’d aimed for with the first two calls.
“Miss Quinn,” said another slightly familiar voice.
“Yes?” I snapped, not caring if I pissed off a customer. Right now I only wanted to find a corner and cry.
“This is Stan Jergins. As we had discussed the possibility of representing you in the sale of Paul Baxter’s store and apartment, I am letting you know that this has been indefinitely put on hold. Norman Childers informs me he’s the rightful heir and will live in the apartment and will run the business after he straightens out the legalities.”
“Oh?” Fury ripped through me, overriding the despair that had threatened to overwhelm me moments before. “Mr. Jergins, I’m sorry to hear you say that. I’m sure another real estate agent will be more than willing to handle the sale and earn a large commission after I prove Mr. Childers is a fraud. Will there be anything else?” I chose not to tell Stan that I might not sell either.
“No. I … no …” The stuttered reply sounded over the line.
“Good. Thank you for your call.” Giving Stan no time to add anything, I disconnected, indulging myself with a tiny slam into the phone’s cradle. How dare Norman Childers? Who did he think he was? He sure wasn’t Uncle Paul’s son as he claimed, so who was he really? And why was he so hot to get ahold of Uncle Paul’s estate?
Norman didn’t reappear at the store that afternoon, much to my relief. I would probably have hit him over the head with one of the large cookbooks on my shelves. If he’d tried this kind of thing before, it was a miracle someone hadn’t killed him already.
Mason and I worked steadily all afternoon, determined to get as much done as we could before leaving. Who knew when we’d get to come back and finish? Or if we’d get to come back. We stayed later than usual and accomplished a lot. Not that it really mattered if Norman Childers managed to cheat me out of my inheritance and was serious about an adult store.
I tried not to get worked up again when I said goodbye to Mason as he walked toward his car. I turned and looked around the store once more. My bookstore. There had to be a way to put a stop to Norman Childers, and I’d find that way, no matter what it took.