by Ellery Adams
Remembering Bren’s gutted teddy bear, Nora squeezed her napkin into a tight ball. “What about the man with the tattoos on his arm?”
“We’ve placed calls to the area hotels and campsites. None of the managers knows of a guest with those markings.” McCabe gave a little shake of his head. “It would be easy enough to hide those tattoos from view. Also, this man could be long gone. The festival drew over a thousand people to town. Some stayed around here, but others took off before the concert got underway.”
“And Celeste? Was she able to talk last night?”
McCabe looked aggrieved. “No. When Andrews saw the state she was in, he called her caseworker and let her take charge of Celeste. I’ll stop by her place later. I have to question her, though I’ll try very hard to not upset her.”
Nora wished that Celeste could take all the time she needed to hide from the world, but the world would never allow it. Not only had her daughter died suddenly, but someone had also destroyed her daughter’s belongings. Celeste was the only person who could shed any light on these acts, and McCabe had to find out what she knew. He didn’t want to cause her distress, but the truth was paramount to Grant McCabe. He valued truth above all things.
Getting to her feet, Nora said, “Please let her caseworker know that I’m available. If she needs someone to sit with Celeste, or read to her, or do errands, she should call me. I want Celeste to know that she isn’t alone.”
McCabe promised that he’d convey the message. As he walked Nora back to the lobby, he told her that his sister had loved the cookbook he’d given her.
“I owe you a better lunch. We’ll have to go out next time,” he said. He then touched the brim of his hat and added, “I’m glad I ran into you. I expect it’ll be the highlight of my day.”
Warmth spread through Nora’s body. She almost told McCabe that she’d missed him. It was true, but she bit back the words and settled for “mine too.”
Outside, the sky was clotted with gray clouds and rain seemed imminent. Nora picked up her pace. She wanted to get her grocery shopping done and be home before the storm hit.
Dumping her bags into a cart, she rushed around the produce section, spending less time inspecting fruits and vegetables than usual. The line for the deli counter was long, so she grabbed a number and, leaving her cart parked near a pallet of boxed sodas stacked to form the shape of a football goal post, she headed down the soup and canned meats aisle.
Connie Knapp’s cart was positioned directly in front of the soups. There was no way Nora could reach her favorite brand without asking Connie to move.
The two women hadn’t seen each other since Connie’s visit to Miracle Books, but Connie smiled at Nora like they were old friends.
“Hello, neighbor. Am I in your way?”
Nora wanted to rip the can of cream of mushroom soup from Connie’s hand, pop it open, and pour it over her head. Instead, she moved so close to her that she could smell Connie’s floral perfume and see the constellation of freckles on her neck.
“Spare me your Mr. Rogers act,” Nora whispered. “What you said in Olga’s article wasn’t very neighborly.”
Connie touched her pearl necklace as if it were a talisman. “This is America, and I’m entitled to my opinion. It’s my God-given right to say what I believe, in print or otherwise. We told you what we thought of your window. We were direct and honest. We gave you a chance, but you ignored us. That wasn’t smart.”
Nora was too tired to control her anger. “Do you know what belief my display defends? My customers’ God-given right to read the books they choose to read. You weren’t able to bully me, so you organized a smear campaign against me and two other business owners. Three hardworking women trying to earn a comfortable living. Why are we such a threat to you?”
“I think I made that point crystal clear,” Connie replied. “Your businesses are a bad influence on our youth, especially our girls. Lots of people agree with me.”
“So what comes next?” Nora asked. “The article came first. After that, the vandalism. Is this what a pastor’s wife does for fun? Destroys the livelihoods of her neighbors and draws devils on shop signs?” She grabbed a can of split pea soup and dropped it in Connie’s cart, crushing a loaf of bread. “Why not start a soup kitchen? Or collect coats for the homeless? You could do so much good with your influence. But you want more, don’t you? You want a following. You want to be a leader. A woman of power. Do you see the irony here?”
Nora’s blow hit its mark, and Connie’s lips twitched.
“You’re not making a lick of sense,” she snapped. “This conversation is over. I have a family to get home to. If you had one of those, you might understand why I do what I do.”
Just then, an elderly woman in a burgundy dress pushed her cart over to where they stood.
“Wasn’t the choir especially good today?” she asked Connie.
Connie agreed that it was, and the woman smiled and shuffled off.
After retrieving the can of split pea soup and returning it to the shelf, Connie looked at Nora and said, “‘So you will get what you deserve.’ That’s from Proverbs.”
“‘Who are you to judge your neighbor?’ That’s from the Book of James.” Nora walked around Connie’s cart and plucked cans of chicken noodle and beef barley soup off the shelf. “I’m no satanist. I’m a book lover. Like most books, the Bible is full of wisdom. And like most books, you have to read it with an open mind and an open heart. If you’re having trouble doing that, you should come see me. I could recommend some wonderful devotionals.”
This was true. Over the years, Nora had gathered a list of titles for customers struggling with their faith. In her experience, people of all faiths and creeds faced times of doubt.
Connie’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t step foot in your shop until it has a new owner.”
And with that, she pushed past Nora and turned the corner.
Back at the deli counter, Nora had to pick another number. Hers was called ten minutes ago and, when no one responded, it had been skipped.
Nora finished ordering roasted turkey and provolone cheese seconds before a hammering noise came from the store’s ceiling.
“What is that?” asked a woman waiting for sliced honey ham.
Just then, a clap of thunder sounded.
The deli clerk raised his eyes to the heavens and said, “The angels are crying, and the devil is dancing. We’re in for a heck of a storm.”
* * *
The Gingerbread House was typically closed on Mondays, so Nora was surprised when Hester sent a text telling her to pick up her book pockets.
“My customers will be thrilled,” Nora said when Hester held open the back door to the bakery. “But what are you doing here?”
“Making muffins. Celeste is opening Soothe today.”
Nora followed Hester into the kitchen. Trays of muffins sat on cooling racks, and the room smelled like coffee, melted chocolate, and cinnamon.
“Are you hungry? I have a few mistakes here.” Hester pointed at several muffins with uneven domes. “There’s pumpkin cream cheese swirl, apple crumble, or chocolate espresso.”
“I never say no to chocolate in the morning. Or in the evening. Or at noon.” Nora unwrapped the warm muffin and took a bite. The sweetness of the chocolate was offset by the subtle bitterness of ground espresso. Hester had added dried cherries to the mix, and that hint of tartness boosted the rest of the flavors. “Wow, Hester. These will sell out in an hour. How did you make this happen?”
“I called Celeste’s social worker last night to see how she was doing, and she told me that Celeste planned to open for business today. When I heard that, I volunteered to make muffins. I’m just getting the ball rolling on your idea.” Hester reached around and grabbed the piece of paper on the counter behind her. After shaking off a sprinkling of flour, she handed it to Nora. “Here’s our Secret, Book, and Scone sign-up sheet.”
Nora looked at the paper and saw that Estella had offered to
help for several hours on Tuesday and Thursday, while June was giving up all of her lunch breaks to work at Soothe. Nora was touched, but not surprised, by her friends’ kindness.
“As long as Sheldon’s okay with it, I’ll help Monday and Wednesday afternoons. I’ll have to play Friday by ear.”
Hester tossed her a pen. “Pencil yourself in while I box up your book pastries. June’s going to ask for volunteers during her knitting circle Wednesday night too.”
Nora’s brows rose. “In front of Dominique? I like her chutzpah.”
Hester began transferring the book pockets from tray to box. “Dominique’s a mom. I don’t think she’ll have the heart to pick on Celeste anymore. I don’t think anyone will after they hear about Bren.”
Nora was trying to decide if she should mention her encounter with Connie when Hester said, “I have something else to tell you, but it can’t leave this room. Seriously. It. Cannot. Leave. This. Kitchen.”
“It won’t. Promise.”
“Earlier this morning, Jasper was on his way to work when he saw my car parked out front. He came in to see why I was here because he didn’t know that I’d talked to Celeste’s social worker. He devoured a few of my pumpkin cream cheese swirl mistakes while I filled him in.” She smiled, momentarily lost in the memory of her boyfriend appreciating her food.
Nora rinsed her hands in the prep sink. The noise snapped Hester out of her daydream, and she resumed her narrative.
“While he was eating, he got a call. I was using the mixer at the time, so he went to the front to talk. When I turned the mixer off, I heard him say, ‘positive for marijuana, but no other drugs? Is he sure?’ He hung up, and I asked if the call was about Bren’s tox screen. He told me to forget what I’d heard and rushed out.”
“No other drugs,” Nora murmured. “She smoked at least one joint, so she would have tested positive for marijuana. But if there were no other drugs in her system, then what killed her?”
Hester’s expression was grave. “Exactly.”
This conversation replayed in Nora’s mind as she broke down the farm-to-table displays and returned the remaining books to the appropriate shelves. While she worked on this project, Sheldon made drinks, served food, and put out all the treasures Nora had found on Sunday.
Foot traffic was slow, which was normal for a Monday morning. There’d be an uptick around lunchtime, another when school let out, and a small rush between five and six when people came downtown for cocktails or dinner.
Nora wanted to use every lull to get the bookshop ready for the Highland Games. The festival didn’t take place in Miracle Springs, but a percentage of the twenty-five thousand attendees would pass through town on Friday, and Nora hoped to sell books to all of them.
Her first goal was to create an endcap for the Romance section. Thanks in part to the success of the Outlander series on television, romance novels set in Scotland had become very popular. Nora’s female readers couldn’t get enough of men in kilts, and during last year’s festival, any book that so much as hinted at a Highlander had flown off the shelf. Sadly, Nora’s inventory had been insufficient, and she’d failed to satisfy her customers’ needs.
This year, she was prepared. Not only did she have stacks of Diana Gabaldon in her stockroom, but she’d also ordered a generous supply of other captivating romantic fiction including Kiss of the Highlander, Lady of the Glen, On a Highland Shore, Kilted for Pleasure, To Love a Scottish Lord, and more.
The Mystery section would have its own endcap featuring the works of Ian Rankin, Conan Doyle, Val McDermid, Molly MacRae, Anna Lee Huber, and Kaitlyn Dunnett. And since there couldn’t be a celebration of Scotland without the inclusion of one of Nora’s favorite authors, a table near the readers’ circle would be devoted entirely to the charming works of Alexander McCall Smith.
On the Land of the Scots table, customers could find the requisite copies of Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott poetry as well as contemporary Scottish writers like Carol Ann Duffy, Kate Atkinson, Irvine Welsh, and Jenni Fagan.
Weeks ago, Hester had told the Secret, Book, and Scone Society that she planned to sell boxes of shortbread to the Highland Games crowd. She’d been baking for weeks, and her freezer was now loaded with lemon, white chocolate, maple, peanut butter, chocolate chip, and traditional Scottish pan shortbread.
Knowing that people would be inspired by Hester’s special treats, Nora decided to display a selection of Scottish cookbooks at the checkout counter.
However, she couldn’t possibly do all of these things in a single day. After finishing one of the tasks on her list, she waited until the lunch rush had died down and walked up the street to Soothe.
Nora paused on the stoop to gaze at the statue with the broken wing.
If you’re a guardian angel, you’re not very good at your job.
But then Nora remembered that a devil mask had been covering the marble woman’s face the night Bren had died. She also remembered Celeste saying how all the woman in her family had been named after this woman. Juliana. A woman who tried to help people. She’d been a healer. Not a fighter.
Feeling contrite, Nora laid her hand over the marble woman’s hand. She found the cool marble comforting.
Nora was apprehensive about walking into Soothe, but she needn’t have worried. Soft music played, the water feature babbled, and Celeste was busy wrapping a large gift basket for a woman in yoga attire. Another woman was standing at the jewelry counter, and Nora could tell that she was interested in a piece in the case.
“Where are the keys?” Nora called to Celeste.
“It’s not locked,” she said, smiling in relief. “Thanks.”
Nora vowed to spend the next ninety minutes being the best salesperson on earth, starting with the woman looking at the jewelry. Nora let her try on half a dozen pieces and the woman ended up purchasing two necklaces and three bracelets.
Celeste approached the jewelry counter. She watched Nora rearrange the pieces on the top shelf for a minute before saying, “I wish I could keep the rest, but I can’t afford to be sentimental.”
Nora carefully straightened a crystal pendant. Bren had created this piece. Once it was gone, there would be no replacing it.
“The woman who just left said that she felt a sense of calm as soon as she touched Bren’s necklace.”
Celeste’s expression turned dreamy. “That’s how my girl used to be. A calm, easygoing spirit. She rarely got mad. Rarely yelled. She was quick to smile. Was always humming or singing.”
Nora had a hard time associating this girl with the hostile young woman she’d met. “What caused the change?”
“She didn’t want to move,” Celeste said. She crossed the room and began to tidy up her basket wrapping station.
Though this wasn’t the first time she’d used this as an excuse for Bren’s anger, Nora believed there was more to the story. What had Bren left behind that made her so upset? A home? Friends? A lover?
Whatever the reason, Bren was twenty years old. Her mother couldn’t force her to move, so why had she? There was definitely more to this than Celeste was letting on.
What had Celeste told Deputy Andrews the morning after Bren’s death? She’d said that she regretted not leaving the community sooner. What community? Had something bad happened there? Something dark and violent? Had this bad thing followed them to Miracle Springs? Did it tear Bren’s house apart? Had it caused her death?
Another customer entered the shop. She examined several baskets before striking up a conversation with Celeste. Nora overheard her say that although she wanted to buy two baskets, she needed to know if Celeste could provide a COA first.
Nora had no idea what this meant, so she edged closer to the two women.
Spotting her, Celeste beckoned her over. “I should explain this to you, Nora. It’s really important.”
“This lovely lady is a smart shopper,” Celeste said, indicating her customer. “COA stands for Certificate of Analysis. This is a document from a la
b that shows the exact number of various cannabinoids in a CBD product. By checking this document, customers know that they’re buying products containing no THC. And since there are so many fake CBD products on the market, it also shows them that the content of CBD matches what’s on the product label. I keep copies of all my COAs in this green binder. In case you ever need to show one to a customer.”
Evidently, the woman was satisfied by what she saw. She bought two baskets and told Celeste that she’d be recommending Soothe to her friends.
At that moment, two more customers walked into the shop, followed by the mail carrier. Seeing that Celeste was busy, the mail carrier approached Nora.
“One business isn’t enough for you?” he teased, passing her the stack of mail.
“I’m playing hooky. Besides, I heard there were muffins.” The mailman looked at the glass case. “They must be good. There’s only one left.”
Nora went behind the counter, popped the last apple crumble muffin in a bag, and handed it to the mail carrier. “On the house.”
After adding a few dollars to the register to cover the cost of the muffin, Nora decided to put the mail on the back counter with the rest of Celeste’s paperwork. She scooped up the pile of catalogs, leaflets, and letters, but a postcard escaped the bundle and fluttered to the floor.
As Nora bent down, her eye was immediately drawn to the name in the addressee section. The card wasn’t addressed to Celeste Leopold, but Cecily Leopold. And though Nora didn’t mean to read the message, it was so short that she couldn’t help noticing it.
YOU CAN RUN
BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE
Nora crouched over the postcard, frozen with dread. Once the initial shock wore off, she turned the card over. The front showed a photograph of a lake surrounded by pine trees. It was a tranquil scene that could have been taken anywhere.
She flipped it over again and was struck anew by a sense of dread. Tearing her gaze away from the message, she examined the post office stamp. The card had been mailed from Pine Hollow, North Carolina. Nora had never heard of the place.
