by V. M. Burns
I was drawn into the kitchen by my two favorite scents—coffee and bacon.
Nana Jo handed me a cup of coffee and pushed the creamer and packets of artificial sweetener toward me. “I’ll take them out. You eat.” She took Snickers from my arms and headed downstairs.
I downed half the cup of coffee before I realized I hadn’t thanked her.
When she came up, I made up for it.
She slid a copy of the River Bend Tribune in front of me. “You might as well get this over with.”
I read the account of yesterday’s events and tried not to cringe at the old picture the paper had found to print of me. “Good thing we’re closed today.”
“That hasn’t stopped the reporters. They’ve been taping outside the door and calling the bookstore phone, trying to get a quote.”
I read on. “It says Mayor Carpenter couldn’t be reached.”
“He chose the wrong time to go to Portugal, but I’m sure he will be able to clear his name when he’s back.” Nana Jo stretched. “Ruby Mae got her daughter to agree to clean the bookshop. I’d better go let her in.”
“Clean?”
Nana Jo frowned. “Detective Pitt . . . I don’t think the rug can be saved, but they have a lot of experience with crime scene cleanup.”
“Have we gotten any word on how he’s doing?”
Nana Jo shook her head. “I’m not family, so the hospital won’t tell me anything other than he’s still in critical condition. I sent flowers from both of us and figured we could go to the hospital and see what we could find out.”
I glanced over at the decorations that I’d bought for the going-away party. “Do you think we should still have the party? I mean, it might be a bit macabre.”
“I think we should still meet, at least for dinner, and wish your mom and Harold well.”
Dawson was downstairs supervising the cleanup and preventing any overzealous reporters from getting too close. He’d checked out fine at the hospital and, apart from a headache, seemed no worse for the wear.
When he saw me, he hurried to the back room and came out carrying a box. “Mrs. W. This box came yesterday, and in all of the excitement, I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”
I was confused. This was a bookstore, and boxes of books arrived almost daily.
Nana Jo smiled and pulled out her phone and started recording. “Go ahead, open it.”
I looked at the label, and that’s when recognition hit. “Oh my God!” My hand shook as I tried to pull the tape from the box. Dawson handed me a box cutter, and I was able to get through the layers of tape. I unfolded the top and looked down at a box full of my book, Murder at Wickfield Lodge. I pulled out a copy of the book and stared at it while tears flowed. “I can’t believe it. That’s my book. That’s my name on the cover.” I cried. “I wish Leon were here to see this.”
Nana Jo put down the phone and hugged me. “He is here. He’s never left. He’s right here with you.”
The books were stamped with a bright label that proclaimed them Advance Reader Copies.
When Nana Jo and I went to the hospital to visit Detective Pitt, I took one of the copies of my book. Chief Stevenson was there talking to a doctor. The chief smiled when he recognized us.
“You have perfect timing. Detective Pitt has just regained consciousness. His condition is being moved from critical to stable.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad.” I extended the book. “Would you please see that he gets this?”
Chief Stevenson looked at the doctor, who gave a nod. “Why don’t you give it to him yourself?”
“I thought only immediate family were allowed?”
“Yep. That’s why I think you and your grandmother should go in. You believed in him when no one else did.” He grinned. “That sounds like family to me.”
“He’s still very weak,” the doctor said. “Two minutes.”
We tiptoed into the room. Detective Pitt looked weak and was wearing one of those cotton hospital gowns.
Nana Jo whispered, “That’s got to be the first time I’ve seen him wearing anything except polyester.”
His eyelashes flickered, and he opened his eyes and looked at us. “You okay?”
“I am. Thanks to you. You’re a hero.”
He tried to smile but winced. “All part of a day’s work,” he said softly.
“Thank you.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. “This is my book. I wanted you to get the first copy.” I held it up so he could see.
“I’m not much of a reader.”
“No worries. I just wanted to give you something to let you know how much I appreciate what you did.”
Nana Jo moved forward. She looked down at Detective Pitt and smiled. “You did good, Bradley. I’m grateful, and I’m very proud of you.”
Detective Pitt stared, and a small tear fell from the corner of his eye.
We turned to leave but were stopped when Chief Stevenson moved forward. “Detective Pitt, I want you to know that as soon as you’re better, I’ll expect to see you back on the job.”
We all left Detective Pitt to rest.
* * *
The going-away party was more low key than we originally planned. We skipped the streamers and koala-specific decorations and instead just had a meal with family and friends.
Emma was excited to hear that we’d seen Detective Pitt and that his condition was stable. She was also excited to share a bit of her own good news. “I got them. Last night, when I got back to the dorm, there they were.” She held up the letters and screamed. “I got into Columbia’s and Northwestern’s medical schools!”
We cheered and hugged.
“Those are both excellent schools,” Harold said. “Which one will you choose?”
She gave a slight glance in Zaq’s direction and then said, “Northwestern.”
Dorothy smiled and hugged Jillian. “My granddaughter has some good news to announce too.”
Jillian smiled. “I got the Bolshoi scholarship. I’m going to be spending my summer in New York.”
Harold stood and raised his glass. “This calls for a toast.”
Everyone picked up their glasses. “We have so many wonderful things to be thankful for. Grace and I are starting our new adventure in Australia. Christopher and Zaq have new jobs in Chicago. Jillian is going on a new adventure with the Bolshoi in New York, and Emma is starting her new adventure at Northwestern University’s medical school.”
“Don’t forget Sam’s new book,” Nana Jo yelled.
“We cannot forget Sam’s new book.” Harold smiled. “Let us all raise our glasses to family, friends, and new adventures.”
We drank.
The food was delicious. Dawson’s cake was not only beautiful but also moist, delicious, and everything that a cake should be.
When we finished eating, I grabbed Frank by the hand and slipped outside. I handed him a copy of my book. “I wanted to give you this.”
He hugged me. “I am so very proud of you. This is amazing. Did you sign it?”
“Of course.”
He started to open it, but I stopped him. “Before you do that. I wanted to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For the party. The food. For being so kind and understanding and patient. For always being there whenever I needed you, especially yesterday. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
He pulled me into his arms. “You won’t ever have to find out. I’m not planning to go anywhere.”
I snuggled into his chest and thought about how nice and cozy it was to be here with my friends and family nearby. My bookshop and a man who loved me. After a few moments, I pulled away. “You can open it now.”
Frank opened the book and flipped to the front. There was only one word:
YES.
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