by Ellery Adams
When she got home, Jed and Henry Higgins were sitting on her deck. She knew, just by looking at Jed, that he’d seen the article.
“Do you still want to go on that hike?” he asked.
“Violence is never the answer, but if I don’t tire myself out and clear my head a little, I might do something stupid.”
Henry Higgins was pulling on his lead, so Jed set him free. When the Rhodesian ridgeback nudged Nora’s palm with his nose, she bent over and kissed the burnished red fur on the top of his head.
“I still think you’d be happier if you had a pet,” Jed said after Nora had changed and packed their lunch. They’d just entered the woods and it already felt like they were miles away from town.
Nora didn’t answer. She was silently responding to every line in Olga’s article.
“A little dog would be the perfect bookstore mascot. He could have a doggie bed under the checkout counter. Hester would make him special treats, June would knit him Hogwarts sweaters, Estella would keep his fur on trend, and Sheldon would be his dog whisperer.”
Jed prattled on until their local trail joined the Appalachian Trail. They’d hike the AT for several miles before veering onto another side trail to end up at Nora’s favorite lookout.
As they ascended hill after hill, they encountered a dozen fellow hikers. Most carried light packs or none at all. A few were clearly through-hikers continuing their southbound journey on the AT. These men and women in ragged clothes were covered with scratches and insect bites. They were dirty and thin. But their gait was proud and confident, and they smiled at Jed and Nora before warning them about the timber rattler around the next bend.
“You’ll see a pine stump and a triangular rock on your right. The rattler’s chilling under the rock. He let us know that he wasn’t gonna share his space,” said a man with leaves in his beard.
They thanked him and kept walking. Nora went first, holding tight to her walking stick. Jed followed directly behind, keeping Henry Higgins close to the left side of his body. As they approached the pine stump, they heard the snake’s rattle and caught a glimpse of his coiled body.
The sight of the snake hiding in the shadows reminded Nora of her encounter with the four members of the Women of Lasting Values Society. They’d given her a warning rattle before leaving the bookstore, but she’d ignored it. Now they were striking out at her. Spreading their poison. But what was the antidote to a smear campaign? This was the question Nora was trying to answer as the forest fell away, revealing a wide, grassy meadow.
Taking off her baseball cap, Nora headed for the massive boulders where she and Jed would lay out their picnic lunch. No one else had claimed the spot, so their dining companions were the swallowtail butterflies in the ironweed and the hawks circling in the cloudless sky.
“That’s the first smile I’ve seen since we left your place,” Jed said, pouring water from a canteen into a bowl. “What are you thinking about?”
Nora watched Henry Higgins lap water from the bowl. “That I shouldn’t worry this much about a group of women targeting me when I’ve got my own group of women.”
The corner of Jed’s mouth twitched. “And your society is better than theirs?”
“In so many ways.”
While Jed stretched out on the picnic blanket, Nora gazed down at the valley below. From this height, she felt invincible. This close to the sky, that article on page four didn’t seem as powerful as it did in town. Up here, Nora was able to stop feeling hurt and angry long enough to remember who she was.
She was a bookseller. And being a bookseller meant that she was also a matchmaker, reference librarian, travel agent, therapist, friend, mentor, grief counselor, fellow reader, and more. The town needed her bookshop. It needed her. Nora had staked everything she’d owned on that belief six years ago, and she’d been right. She still believed in Miracle Springs.
She only hoped it still believed in her.
* * *
“Women of Lasting Values Society, my ass,” snarled June. “Look at those capital letters. Wolves in sheep’s clothing. Or, in this case, wolves who shop at Talbots.”
Estella sniggered, but June was just getting warmed up. “And what’s with the pack mentality? Four of them coming at you at once? In your own store? And Lord! I cannot get over Dominique. I’ve known that woman for years. We’ve been in knitting circles and Bible studies together, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat with her in church. She’s a good woman. I don’t know how she ended up with these other . . .” She raised her hands heavenward. “I am not going to say it.”
“Isn’t Connie the pastor’s wife?” asked Hester.
“Not the pastor from my church,” June huffed. “Connie’s married to Reverend Morris Knapp, the assistant pastor at that church that looks like a movie theater. All I know about the Knapps is that they moved here from Alabama back in June. Reverend Knapp is watching over the flock while Pastor Yates is on his mission trip. He’ll be away for a month.”
“Interesting timing. We never heard about these wolves before now,” Estella said. “I mean, no one tried to recruit me, and I’ve been such a good girl lately. I’m not a wife or mom, but everyone knows that Jack and I are an item.”
Nora put a hand on Estella’s shoulder. “No one’s ever going to ask the town bombshell to join the morality movement. But I’m glad they haven’t approached you. You just got your business back in the black, so you might want to keep your distance from me until this blows over.”
Estella stiffened. “The hell I will. You’re my friend!”
“I know that. But you or Hester don’t need to risk your livelihoods by getting into the ring with these women,” Nora said gently.
“Don’t even try your this-ain’t-your-fight bullshit on me,” June warned when Nora glanced her way. “I have a T. rex–sized bone to pick with these wolves. My socks are for sale at Red Bird Gifts, so it’s personal. And what about Marie? The woman is going to be a single mom in a few months, and the shop is her only means of support. No way am I going to keep quiet while people trash-talk another woman of color.”
Hester held up a copy of the newspaper. “Can you threaten the paper with some kind of legal action? Force them to print an apology? I mean, isn’t Olga’s article slanderous?”
Nora sighed. “Based on what I read online, I’d have no case because the article’s framed as an opinion piece. It’s presented as a conversation, not fact. The names of the businesses are never mentioned. Olga knew exactly how far she could push the envelope, and her article slyly plants seeds of doubt about Miracle Books, Soothe, and Red Bird. Is this veiled attack enough for these women? Or is this just the beginning of their campaign?”
“I know how we can find out,” Estella said, arching an elegant brow.
Nora sank into the chair next to her. “Don’t tell me that you’re planning to join their demented group.”
“You don’t look like the woman on their brochure,” June mumbled.
Estella let out a tinkling laugh. “I don’t stand a chance. One of the women would tell the others about all the men I’ve seduced—or that my daddy’s serving time for murder—and I’d be tossed out before the tea was poured.” She shrugged. “But I don’t need to go to them, because Connie’s coming to me. Tomorrow afternoon. For a cut and color. It didn’t dawn on me until we started talking because she’s in my books as C. Knapp, but when I heard her last name, it hit me.”
Hester grinned. “And women always talk to you when you’re doing their hair.”
“They sure do. They say things they wouldn’t say to anyone else.”
Nora was dubious. “But doesn’t it take a few appointments before people open up?”
“Usually,” Estella admitted. “But when Connie called to book an appointment, I was on the other line, so she left a voicemail saying that she wanted a cut and color that would make her look like a First Lady.”
Hester frowned. “First Lady? Why not the president?”
&nbs
p; “That’s right, sister.” June reached out to fist-bump Hester.
Estella scooted to the edge of her chair, her eyes shining. “Don’t you see? Connie Knapp wants to lead. She wants to be in a position of power. Her husband is in charge of the church—at least until the senior pastor comes back—and Connie wants to be in charge of something too. That woman has plans, and I need to find out what they are.”
Nora tensed. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”
Estella flicked her wrist. “Just listen to my idea. Tomorrow morning, you and I are going to have a very loud, very public argument at the Pink Lady.”
“That’ll just draw more negative attention to Nora,” Hester said. “If she’s yelling and smashing plates, it’ll make people uncomfortable and they might start avoiding Miracle Books.”
Nora passed her hands over her face. “That’s my worst nightmare.”
“I never said anything about breaking china,” protested Estella. “We just need to convince folks that we’ve had a falling-out. Then, during Connie’s color application, I’ll tell her that I had a fight with one of my best friends. While her color is processing, she can whip out her phone and verify my story. The texts will come flooding in, confirming our tiff, and by the time I’m doing her cut, she’ll be ready to talk. The only challenge is not giving her the Van Gogh treatment while she’s talking.”
Nora glanced around at her friends. “This is crazy, right? For starters, I can’t act. And what if we follow through with this whole charade and Connie doesn’t tell Estella a thing?”
Since no one could come up with an alternative, Nora reluctantly agreed to Estella’s plan.
“I’ll talk to Dominque,” said June. “Our knitting circle meets Wednesday night, and I’ll invite her over for supper beforehand. She and I need to hash this thing out.”
“We’re still meeting this weekend to talk about The Whisper Man, right?” Hester asked Nora. “I’ve been listening to it on audio and let me tell you, at five in the morning, in the dark bakery, that story is freaking me out. It’s the perfect creepy read for this time of year.”
Nora smiled. “Yes, we’re getting together. Our book club is the highlight of my week. Come on. Let’s go out the front.”
As the four women stood on the sidewalk, gazing at the display window, Hester turned to Nora and asked, “Have you thought about changing it?”
“This isn’t about a window display,” June answered before Nora could. “It’s about Nora’s freedom to sell all kinds of stories about all kinds of people. That’s what we see when we look at this window. That’s why it’s magical to us and threatening to others.”
“I never thought I’d wake up to an article implying that Cherokee art, pain-relieving CBD products, and a bookstore display window featuring novels about powerful women would be construed as immoral. To call this satanic is absurd.” She looked at Hester. “Honey, I didn’t start this fight, and I wish those women had never darkened my door. But look at the books. They’re worth the fight.”
“When Jasper read Fahrenheit 451 last year, he underlined specific passages,” Hester said in a hushed voice. “He showed me the one about the woman who stays inside her burning house because she won’t leave her books. I’ll never forget that scene because that woman reminds me of you, Nora. Even though you know what it’s like to be burned, I can still see you staying with your books.”
“Not me. I’m done with fire.” Nora put her arm around Hester’s waist. “Don’t worry. Everything will work out. It might get worse before it gets better, but it’ll work out.”
Staring at the cauldron flames in the window, she desperately wanted to believe her own lie.
Chapter 5
The devil’s agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not?
—Arthur Conan Doyle
Nora didn’t have to do much acting at the Pink Lady Grill the next morning. The hostess put her in a foul mood by asking when she’d be “taking all of them creepy witch books” out of her shop’s display window, so she had no problem starting a fake argument with Estella.
Over coffee and breakfast sandwiches, the two friends continued to bicker, drawing curious glances from the other patrons. By the time Estella stormed out of the diner, she had everyone’s attention.
Unfortunately, their performance didn’t have an effect on Connie Knapp. She spent most of her ninety-minute appointment on the phone with her mother, and whenever Estella managed to engage her in small talk, Connie was friendly but reserved. She talked about her husband, their two children, or happenings at their church while perusing the Thanksgiving recipes and decorating tips in the current issue of Southern Living.
Finally, Estella swung Connie’s chair around to reveal her chic layered bob and caramel highlights. Seeing Connie’s delight in her work, Estella said that she’d read about the Women of Lasting Values in the paper and wanted to learn more about the group. Connie gave her a cold smile and said that joining a church was a good “first step” for any woman. She then paid and left the salon.
“I should have given her a mullet,” Estella told Nora over the phone.
“Or a mohawk,” Nora said, trying to hide her disappointment.
June didn’t fare any better. Her heart-to-heart with Dominque never happened because Dominique was in bed with a head cold.
She wasn’t the only one feeling poorly. The temperature had dropped by twenty degrees and now half the town was sniffling.
Fall had come, ushering in brisk mornings and nights that smelled of woodsmoke. Dried leaves filled gutters and covered lawns. Crushed acorn caps speckled the sidewalks. People sipped pumpkin spice lattes and apple cider.
The Farm to Table Festival organizers couldn’t have asked for better weather. Fridays in September and October always brought visitors to Miracle Springs, but this year, the festival had attracted even more.
“I don’t think that sticks-and-stones article is keeping anyone away,” Sheldon said as he and Nora stocked a table with farm-to-table cookbooks.
The shop was filled with customers. The sight of people holding books, reading books, and pulling books down from the shelves warmed Nora’s heart. “Business has been great this week. Fingers crossed that it stays this way.”
“Cookbooks!” a woman cried as she approached the table. “My kryptonite.”
“You get a coupon for a free dessert at tonight’s Hops and Blues party with every cookbook purchase,” Nora said, indicating the promotional sign in the center of the table. “A food truck called Apple of My Eye is serving desserts, and the owner makes these baked apples filled with oatmeal cinnamon crisp that are to die for.”
The woman let out a little moan. “I’m gonna need two cookbooks because I am not sharing with my husband. He can get his own baked apple.”
Sheldon followed Nora to the checkout counter. “Are you going to the party?”
“I haven’t decided,” said Nora. “It’s been a long week and I wouldn’t mind a night on the sofa with a book. On the other hand, I love burgers and that baked apple is a serious draw. How about you? Are you up for a date night with your boss?”
“Won’t your smoking hot boyfriend be jealous?”
“He left for the coast this morning. His mom is sick.”
Sheldon made a sympathetic noise. “Poor her. And poor him. That six-hour drive must wear on him. Why doesn’t he convince her to move to Miracle Springs?”
“When Jed took the job here, I don’t think he planned on staying for more than a couple of years.”
“And now?”
Nora fidgeted with the credit card receipts. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”
“Relationships are hard,” Sheldon said. “But burgers are easy, and since I’m feeling especially fabulous, we should go to the party. You need to be seen, mija. You need to smile and show those judgy women that their silly page-four article didn’t bother you one bit.” Leaning over the counter, he whispered, “If you ask me nicely, I might e
ven wear a witch hat.”
“Stick with your fedora, okay?”
Sheldon laughed. “Okay.”
Feeling happy for the first time in days, Nora spent the next hour doing what she did best: matching books with readers. She’d just finished recommending Tad Williams to a Tolkien fan when Hester entered the shop. She wore a jean jacket over a floral dress and her curls were gathered into a messy bun. She looked ready for a night out. Until Nora noticed the anxious expression on her friend’s face.
“Have you talked to Celeste since that article came out?” Hester whispered when they were alone.
“Yeah. On Tuesday,” Nora said. “I dropped by Soothe with coffee. Bren was barely awake and didn’t say a word, but Celeste was totally fine. She told me that she expects people to be suspicious of her products and looks forward to educating them. I wish I could be as relaxed as she is about all of this. I envy her.”
Hester put her phone on the counter. “She’s probably not relaxed now. Look.”
Nora examined the image on the phone screen. It took her a moment to understand that she was looking at the angel in front of Celeste’s store. Someone—she assumed it wasn’t Celeste—had put a plastic devil mask over the angel’s face and taped a plastic pitchfork to her marble robe.
“Jasper’s at Soothe now, talking to Celeste,” Hester said. “I told him to meet me here when he’s done. Do you think one of those women did this?”
“Seems more like a kid’s prank.” Nora pointed at the photo. “This stuff is for sale at the dollar store. Anyone with a couple of bucks could have bought it.”
Hester passed a finger over her screen. “Tell me if you still think that after you see the Red Bird sign.”
The second photograph was a close-up shot of the cardinal on the gift shop’s sign, which had been carved and painted by a local Cherokee woodworker. A graffiti artist had given the bird a pair of black horns and a pointy beard.
“It’s permanent marker.” Hester’s voice was tight with anger. “Marie is really upset. I’m upset. First, the article. Now, they’re marking places with a devil. Wow. Just wow.”
