by Ellery Adams
“A lonely town,” Nora said, getting up to turn off the stove burner.
When she returned to the table with a steaming bowl of chili and a heel of brown bread, she decided to postpone her research until after her meal. She didn’t have enough hands to eat, type, and take notes, but she could easily eat and read.
Two chapters later, Nora was full and a little disoriented. She’d become so invested in the lives of the fictional characters she’d come to love that she’d forgotten about Celeste. Her confusion didn’t last long, and Nora knew she could continue The Flatshare as soon as she was done sleuthing, but it was still hard to set the book aside and return to reality.
After putting her chili bowl in the sink to soak and refilling her glass with sparkling water, Nora hit the space bar on her laptop. It seemed to take forever for the machine, which was getting old, to wake up.
“I get it,” Nora told her computer. “Some days, you just want to keep dreaming.”
She typed “Cecily Leopold” and “North Carolina” into Google’s search box and found a result that contained both Cecily Leopold’s name and the word “community.”
Nora clicked on the link, which brought her to the site of a daily newspaper located in the eastern part of the state. The article, entitled “School Employee Fired After CBD Use Results in Failed Drug Test,” had been written back in March.
“CBD,” Nora whispered. “Oh, no.”
The article’s focus was one Lazarus Harper, sixty-four-year-old cafeteria worker employed by the Washington County Schools. Harper, who’d suffered from chronic lower back pain for more than a decade, had become fed up with his prescription medicine. The high cost and negative side effects had him looking for alternatives. He was delighted to find that CBD oil was an affordable source of pain relief without any adverse side effects. Unfortunately, in January, he failed a state-mandated drug test. Harper’s THC levels were higher than 0.3 percent, despite the fact that the product label on his CBD oil declared it to be THC-free. Harper purchased the CBD oil from Cecily Leopold of the Still Waters Community. He intended to take legal action against Ms. Leopold and the leader of the Community for selling a defective product as well as the Washington County Schools for wrongful termination.
A headshot of Lazarus Harper accompanied the article. Harper had a scruffy beard, leathery skin, and sunken eyes. The lines on his face, the broken capillaries near his nose, and his thinning hair spoke of a hard life.
“Are you the man from the park?” Nora asked.
Since she couldn’t see any of Harper’s body in the photo, she ran a search for other images but found nothing.
Foiled, she turned her attention to the Still Waters Community. This must be the place mentioned during Celeste’s sedative-induced confession to Deputy Andrews. The place she should have left sooner.
Still Waters appeared as a commercial website and was referenced in three articles besides the Harper piece.
Nora clicked on the Still Waters Gallery website. It was a virtual gallery featuring every imaginable artform. There were pages of paintings, sculpture, jewelry, stained glass, ceramics, textiles, mosaics, calligraphy, drawings, printmaking, furniture, photography, and more. Everything was for sale. Every item included a description, a brief bio of the artist, and a price. Purchases could be completed through PayPal. The contact link was an email form.
Since there was no record of Cecily or Bren on the site, Nora moved on to the articles that mentioned Still Waters.
The first was little more than a blurb describing the collision between a motorist and a six-hundred-pound black bear. The driver’s survival was credited to a resident of Still Waters, a metalsmith named Jacob Dietz, who appeared at the scene to help.
Another resident, a woman named Molly Peterson, found a young girl who’d become separated from her family during a camping trip. After the girl had been missing for two days, Ms. Peterson spotted her on a bed of moss under the protective ledge of a rock pile. She was fast asleep and unharmed. Afterward, Ms. Peterson and the girl became pen pals.
The last piece was less flattering. A Mr. and Mrs. Minnick claimed that their daughter ran away to join the “cult” of Still Waters. As the girl was seventeen, law enforcement was called in to investigate. The investigation resulted in no charges, and the girl returned home without incident. On her eighteenth birthday, she packed her things and moved back to Still Waters. The Minnicks now tell everyone that their daughter lives in the forest like a savage.
“Which forest?” Nora mumbled.
Still Waters Community appeared to have no mailing address. Nor was it on any maps. Only after some deep digging on the county’s property database did Nora finally locate a PO box and a parcel number. The parcel number matched an enormous tract of land two miles outside of Pine Hollow’s town limits.
Nora tried to view the area using the map’s satellite view, but it showed only a sea of pines and a smudge of blue peeking out from the middle of all the green.
She suddenly remembered the photo on the postcard mailed to Cecily Leopold. The lake on that card was the same shade of blue as the one on Nora’s computer screen.
“Prussian blue.”
If Cecily Leopold and Celeste Leopold were the same woman, then Cecily had an enemy in Pine Hollow. Lazarus Harper blamed her for the loss of his livelihood. He blamed her and the place she and Bren used to call home.
Nora thought of the man with the tattooed arm. She thought of the old book page, of its unfamiliar language and the robed figures assembling ingredients for an unknown concoction.
The Minnicks had called Still Waters a cult.
Had Cecily left Pine Hollow because something had gone wrong inside Still Waters? Had Lazarus Harper’s accusations about the CBD oil caused problems for Cecily and Bren? Maybe they’d been told to leave. Maybe they’d been shunned.
Cecily hadn’t packed up and moved on a whim. She’d made plans. She’d leased a building on the other side of the state. She’d rented a house for Bren. She’d picked out a new name: Celeste.
But she hadn’t gone far enough. Her new name hadn’t been different enough.
She’d been found.
By Lazarus Harper? Or someone else?
Who sent the postcard?
Who put the book page under Nora’s mat?
What had happened to Bren?
Nora stared at the lake on her screen. The oval of blue water was surrounded by dense trees. It looked like the eye of a storybook giant imprisoned in the earth. This wasn’t the placid, peaceful lake from the postcard. This lake had hidden depths. Its waters kept secrets.
Nora didn’t want to look at it anymore. She slammed her laptop lid closed, plunging the room into shadow. Suddenly, she realized how late it was. How quiet and dark. The only light in her entire house came from the dim bulb over the stove.
It wasn’t enough. Not if there was a monster in Miracle Springs.
Had a monster come for Bren? Was it stalking Celeste? Was it out there, in the dark?
Watching. Waiting. Wanting.
Chapter 10
Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?
—Henry Ward Beecher
Nora got up early, dressed in comfy clothes, and walked through the golden autumnal woods until her footpath merged with a marked trail. As she climbed the hills rising above Miracle Springs, her mind flitted from one thought to the next. She worried about Celeste. And Jed. She wondered what Connie and her she-wolves were up to. She made to-do lists.
This mental maelstrom only quieted when she paused at a breathtaking view. As soon as her body resumed motion, so did her mind. She reviewed what she’d learned about Pine Hollow and Still Waters, replaying details from the article on Lazarus Harper, the nuances of CBD oil, the online art gallery, and the accusation that the community was a cult.
The higher Nora climbed, the harder her legs and lungs worked. The exertion felt good, but eventually, she had to take off her sweatshirt and tie it around her wai
st. Underneath, she was wearing her HAPPIER THAN A KID AT A BOOK FAIR T-shirt, which was one of Jed’s favorites. She touched the soft fabric and decided to call him when she was back in cell phone range.
What about McCabe? a niggling voice asked. Don’t you want to compare notes on Pine Hollow? See if you found anything he didn’t?
The idea was ridiculous. McCabe could run a background check on Cecily Leopold. He could call whatever law enforcement agency had jurisdiction over Still Waters and ask for a complete lowdown. He and his team probably gathered more information in ten minutes than Nora had in two hours.
Which leaves me where?
She and her friends could continue to help Celeste. They could bake muffins, cook meals, and work at Soothe. But these things wouldn’t make Celeste feel safe or comforted. She’d still go upstairs after work and stay in her apartment until morning. And while a social worker was checking in, and McCabe was keeping tabs on Celeste’s whereabouts, they couldn’t ease her loneliness or dispel her fears. She needed friends. Female friends. A group of women to fill her sad, silent home with noise, food, and cheer.
“The Secret, Book, and Scone Society needs to make a house call,” Nora declared as she reached the bottom of the trail.
At home, she showered, brewed a cup of cinnamon tea, and called Jed. When he didn’t answer, she left a message saying that she missed him and that she hoped his mother was on the mend. She hesitated for a moment before telling him that she and her friends were helping a local woman who’d just lost her daughter. Then, to lighten the mood, she added, “In other news, I have a nemesis. I’m like a comic book character. I might even need a costume. Maybe a jumpsuit and Chuck Taylors. Anyway, I don’t think my bookish superpowers will have any effect on this woman.”
Having rambled long enough, Nora asked Jed to get back to her and hung up.
At the bookshop, she vacuumed floors and dusted shelves. She kept expecting Jed to call and give her an excuse to stop cleaning, but he didn’t.
“Look at you, all bright-eyed and bushy-browed,” Sheldon said upon his arrival.
Nora put her fingers to her face. “Is it bad? Like Count Olaf bad?”
Sheldon took a Maleficent mug down from the pegboard. “It’s just one white hair. Ignore me. You know I’m like the Muppet in the trash can until I have my coffee.”
“A white hair?”
Nora dug a compact out of her bag and examined her brows. She saw the offensive hair immediately, nestled in the middle of her left brow. And then, she spotted a second white hair.
“Jesus. I aged overnight.”
Once he had the coffee brewing, Sheldon cleaned a pair of tweezers, pushed Nora into a chair, and deftly plucked her “white whiskers.”
A few minutes later he handed Nora a steaming cup of coffee. “I shouldn’t poke fun at you with all that you’re going through. Do you want to vent? I promise to be nice.”
Six months ago, Nora would have said no. But talking to Sheldon always made her feel better. He was an excellent listener. He sat very still and never interrupted. His gaze was soft and sympathetic. And he was completely trustworthy.
“I think I do,” Nora said.
Sheldon settled deeper into his chair and waited for her to begin.
“I’ve been putting on a show—acting like this thing with Connie doesn’t scare me, but it does. Remember the last time Miracle Books was vandalized? Between the insurance claims and the police report, I felt like a victim. I never wanted to feel like that again.” Nora sipped her coffee. “Connie isn’t going to let this go. She made that perfectly clear. I wish I could prepare for whatever she plans to throw at me next, but I can’t. There might be a much bigger, scarier beast in town than Connie Knapp.”
After summarizing everything she’d found online last night, Nora fell silent. She cradled her mug and gave Sheldon time to process the glut of information.
He spent several moments gazing into the middle distance. Finally, he looked at Nora and said, “If this Harper guy is creeping around Miracle Springs because he’s mad at Celeste, what can you do about it? I thought you trusted McCabe and Company? Don’t you think they’re capable of handling the problem?”
Nora said, “I trust McCabe, but Celeste doesn’t. She won’t tell him what he needs to know. Why not? Her daughter’s dead. Why wouldn’t Celeste do everything in her power to find out what happened? Is she afraid that McCabe will find out about Lazarus Harper? Or something worse?” She put her coffee cup down with a forceful thud. “Celeste accused Bren of keeping secrets, and now, she’s doing the same thing. How can McCabe protect her without knowing who her enemies are?”
“I’m worried about Celeste, but I’m worried about you too.”
Nora shrugged. “I keep telling myself that once I turned that book page over to McCabe, I was no longer in the equation, but I don’t really believe that. Why was it under my mat in the first place? Why do I feel like I’ve been marked?”
Embarrassed by the Old Testament theatricality of that last line, Nora averted her eyes.
When she glanced over at Sheldon again, his mouth was pinched with worry. “For whatever reason, you’re in the center of two storms. Connie Knapp has decreed you a bad influence on our youth, and she’ll wage war against you as long as she has command over her Mama Bear soldiers. As for the second target, that’s your penalty for showing an interest in Bren.”
Nora started to protest, but Sheldon shushed her. “You home in on certain people. People with a need. So do June, Hester, and Estella. You’re the magical women of this town, and you need to use your powers to get Celeste to talk. The cork has to come out that bottle, though it might take a bottle or two to get the words flowing.”
“I don’t like the idea of using booze to coerce her.”
Sheldon looped his index finger through the handles of their empty coffee mugs and stood up. “You know what they say about extraordinary circumstances.”
“They call for extraordinary measures?”
Sheldon spread his hands. “Where I come from, that’s called tequila.”
* * *
Nora sent a group text to the members of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society detailing her plan to visit Celeste. She then asked what evening would work best. After a brief flurry of messages, the group settled on Thursday.
Nora was just penciling the event on her desk calendar when Hester sent another text.
We can’t show up with food and expect C to talk. It’s too much pressure. We need a distraction. It’s not a Pictionary or card game kind of night.
Nora thought about the various books she had on grieving. Some of the workbooks included activities like journaling, writing letters to loved ones, creating memory boards, or filling a box with special objects.
One of my books will have the answer, she replied. I’ll find something.
And then Estella typed. It’s gonna be awkward. Should we bring wine?
June and Hester sent thumbs-up emojis.
Nora refused to use emoticons, so she just typed, Yes.
She put her phone away and glanced out the window in time to see the trolley from the lodge pass by. The morning rush was about to begin.
Nora carried a broom outside and swept the sidewalk in front of the shop. The painted pumpkin from last week’s festival was still in the planter, but without the farm-to-table context, its food quote had lost its charm. Nora decided to replace it with a plain pumpkin.
After relocating the black pumpkin to the stockroom, she jogged up the street to the hardware store where she bought a tall pumpkin with a twisty stem, a flowering kale, and a creeping Jennie. She planted the kale and the creeping Jennie in the front half of her container and deposited the pumpkin in the back.
She was watering the plants when a couple approached the display window. Nora saw them out of the corner of her eye, but the woman spoke before she had the chance to turn and say hello.
“Didn’t our guide tell us to skip this store?”
“Yep,” answered the man.
“Well, I’m not going to listen to her. I like bookstores. Don’t you, Hank?”
“Yep.”
Nora stepped aside to give the couple a wide berth. She didn’t follow them into the shop. Instead, she glanced up and down the sidewalk, searching for other lodge visitors. They were easy to pick out of a crowd because every guest received a turquoise shopping tote with the lodge logo upon check-in.
Nora saw two women carrying the telltale totes pause in front of a clothing boutique. After briefly examining a piece of paper, they entered the shop. What was written on that piece of paper? A list of shops to visit? Or a list of shops to skip?
A vision of Connie’s face surfaced in Nora’s mind.
“I’ll kill her,” she muttered, and marched into the bookstore.
For once, she didn’t notice the rainbow-colored book spines or smell the sweet perfume of coffee, leather, and paper. She didn’t hear the companionable creak of pine boards under her feet or the delightful sigh of pages being turned. The only thing that got through the hornet’s nest of anger in her head was the hiss of the espresso machine’s steam wand.
Nora felt like the milk Sheldon was heating. She was a whirlpool of air bubbles on the brink of scalding, and only one thing could cool her down. She needed to pair the right book with the right reader. If she could make a bookish match, she could stop her world from tilting for a little while.
She found the man named Hank and the woman he’d come in with browsing new releases in the Mystery section. After introducing herself, Nora asked if they needed any help.
