CHAPTER 14

I searched Lizzie’s face for signs she was serving me another tablespoon of sugarcoated gobbledygook.

“We’re going to elope.” The corners of her mouth lifted into a grin. “Ya know, get married.”

“But Joe? Can’t you find someone—more, well, someone else?”

She placed her hands over her heart. “He’s the one I love.” The two women entered the store, bringing with them a gust of chill air. The wind had kicked up; hail slanted down. “It appears we’re going to have snow tonight,” one of the women said to us. “Just heard the weatherman announce it on the radio. The temperature’s plunging.”

I ambled over to the front window to watch sleet spitting down, pedestrians hunched over, a horse and buggy hurrying by. I hoped Armin would pick me up today, considering the weather. So much for the groundhog not seeing his shadow.

One of the women said, “We’d better come back another time.” They scanned the store. “Cute place. Are you open tomorrow?”

“Not on Sundays,” Lizzie said. After the two women exited, Lizzie told me, “This shop may never open again unless you come back on Monday.”

“I can’t believe you’d lay a guilt-trip on me after I’ve been working here for nothing all day.” Anger sharpened my voice, but where that ire was emanating from, I couldn’t decipher. A mishmash of paradoxes swirled in the back of my brain .

The telephone by the cash register rang, and Lizzie answered it.

“That was Mrs. Martin,” Lizzie explained after a stop-and-go chat. “She said you could stay in her back room. She insists you read any books that catch your fancy.”

“Ginger and I live in that cramped little cubicle? It would never work.” On the other hand, it was a roof over my head and a quiet hideaway.

Through the window, I noticed the sleet transforming into white pellets, dotting the streets and sidewalks.

“Ach, what happened to our beautiful springtime weather?” Lizzie wrung her hands. “This isn’t how I envisioned this afternoon.”

“You and me both. Even if Armin gets the Mustang going, that rear-wheel–drive coupe can’t handle snow or icy roads. No weight over the rear wheels.” I could tell by Lizzie’s blank expression she had no clue what I was talking about.

A UPS truck skidded to a stop up front. A uniformed driver lugged in a sizable carton and set it on the floor by the register. “Almost didn’t make it,” he said. “The roads are getting clogged with traffic.” Lizzie signed for the package, and the driver jaunted back to his truck, then sped away, his tires spinning.

I watched Lizzie open the box. “Oh, dear, I’ve got books to put away,” she said. “I mustn’t let them sit in the damp carton over the weekend.”

I helped her empty the box and carried the books to the shelves. She restocked the fiction by author, nonfiction on the bottom shelf, oversize books on the next, by the cookbooks and magazines.

I heard knocking on the back door, and Ginger barked. I left Lizzie and hustled to check my pooch.

“Who’s there?” I said.

“Joe.”

I opened the door and a block of frigid air filled the room. His jacket’s shoulders were darkened by moisture. His tattered Nikes were soaked, as were his pant legs. Droplets from his jacket landed on the carpet.

“Is Lizzie ready?” he said as I let him in. I noticed a fifteen-year-old blue Chevy Cavalier, a compact with a dent in its rear fender and a missing hubcap, parked outside the building.

“To run off with you?”

“She told ya?” Joe’s pale face and round eyes reminded me of a scared rabbit.

“Yes, and you two were so obvious earlier, how could I miss it? But to elope? That’s crazy thinking.”

I questioned myself about my own rational choices. I was considering marrying Donald. Who knew, I might still do it if I got desperate enough. Then I recalled the feeling of safety as Armin helped me from the buggy, his firm, strong grasp.