by Ellery Adams
“I believe we do,” said the woman. She pointed at her chest. “I’m Gertie and this is my husband, Hank. We’re visiting Hank’s sister this Thanksgiving, and I’d like to take her a hostess gift. She loves to read but is very particular about her books. She can’t abide swearing, intense violence, or adult content, if you catch my drift.”
“I do,” said Nora. “Is she a fan of mysteries?”
“She’s wild about them. She has a huge collection of Agatha Christie novels, and she’s read most of them twice. I’d like to give her more mysteries like those. Classy and clean.”
“Should we stick to books set in England?”
Gertie considered this. “I think she’s ready for a new setting. In fact, I bet she’d love a Southern setting. She lives in a small town in Mississippi. She has two cats, a dog, and several horses. She volunteers at her local animal shelter and at the library. She’s a wonderful woman.”
Nora smiled. “Sure sounds like it. And you’d be wonderful sister-in-law for introducing her to a new series set in Mississippi. I know of two terrific candidates.” She pulled a book off the shelf and handed it to the woman. “I have a feeling that your sister-in-law would get a kick out of Carolyn Haines’s sleuth, Sarah Booth Delaney. She’s an unconventional Southern belle with a penchant for solving crimes, and Ms. Haines is an animal lover and advocate.”
“How fabulous. And I see that it’s a long-running series, so if my sister-in-law falls in love with the first book, we can buy her more for Christmas!” Gertie pocketed her phone and passed Them Bones to her husband. “Would you hold on to this, Hank?”
“Speaking of libraries,” Nora said, reaching for another book. “This is Murder Past Due. It’s the first book in the Cat in the Stack series by Miranda James. It’s also set in Mississippi. It features a charming librarian named Charlie Harris and his equally charming cat, Diesel.”
Gertie put a hand on Nora’s arm. “Oh, just look at that darling cover! I want to read this one too. It’s just perfect. I’m so glad we came in today. Aren’t you, Hank?”
Before Hank could reply with his ubiquitous “yep,” Nora asked if she could help him find a special book.
Hank’s cheeks turned pink. Though was he was probably in his seventies, he looked like a little boy who hadn’t expected his teacher to call on him.
“I really enjoyed our train ride from Asheville. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a train, but I’ve always liked them. My sister gave me Murder on the Orient Express for Christmas one year, and I read it in one night. Do you have other mysteries with trains?”
“Let me think.” Nora’s eyes moved over the shelves. “Have you read The Great Train Robbery or Thrilling Stories of the Railway?”
Hank confessed that he’d never heard of either book.
“My husband hasn’t had much time to read,” Gertie said, smiling tenderly at Hank. “He worked every day of the week so that our five kids could graduate from college free and clear of loans. He finally retired a few months ago, and his GP wants him to take it easy. So if books with trains will help him relax, then we’ll take all of them. I’ve always spent my evenings reading, and now, my love will be joining me.”
Later, after Gertie and Hank had paid for their books and were quietly deliberating over whether to snack on chocolate book pockets or grab something at the Gingerbread House after visiting another shop or two, Nora’s anger returned. It wasn’t as fierce as before, but it was there.
The bookstore should have been busier. There should have been more lodge guests browsing the shelves, but they weren’t even coming inside. More than once, Nora saw people with turquoise totes stop in front of the display window. They’d study the magical, bookish scene before walking away, their lips pursed in disapproval.
“Gertie?” Nora called from behind the checkout counter. “You and Hank definitely want to visit the bakery. If the Sugar Plum Fairy traded her wings for an apron, you’d have Hester, the owner. Not only is her food delicious, but it’ll make you feel good too.”
“Sounds like we should go there next,” said Hank. “Thanks for the advice.”
Coming out from behind the checkout counter, Nora approached the couple. “Seems like you’re getting plenty of that today. I overheard you say that you were told to skip this store. I won’t mention it to your guide, but lodge employees don’t usually tell guests where to shop.”
Hank pointed at the logo on his tote bag. “It wasn’t our guide. It was the concierge.”
“That’s right,” added Gertie. “She got on the tour bus and told us that most of the stores in town were gold stars, but a few were what she called ‘think twice’ shops. We should think twice before visiting those merchants. Isn’t that what she said, Hank?”
“Yep.”
Nora struggled to maintain her calm. “What stores were on her think twice list?”
Gertie fished around in her purse and withdrew a tiny notepad. “Soothe, Red Bird Gallery and Gifts, and Miracle Books.”
Nora feigned confusion. “Did the concierge say why those places were on the list?”
Gertie exchanged a puzzled look with her husband before answering. “It seems strange, now that we’ve been in your shop, but the lady said that these places were considered—what was the word, Hank?”
“Disreputable.”
“That’s it. She said that she and her friends steered clear of those stores, so we might want to as well.” Seeing the hurt in Nora’s eyes, Gertie reached out and took her hand. As she gazed down at the bubbled skin and the partial pinkie finger, her face filled with compassion. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, Hank and I will tell every guest not to pay a lick of attention to that concierge. You made us feel like family, and we’ll come back again. You can count on it.”
Gertie’s kindness tamped down Nora’s fury, but not for long. The couple was barely out the door before Nora was calling June.
“You’re shitting me!” June exclaimed when she heard what had happened. “That concierge is breaking the rules. Lodge employees aren’t supposed to recommend one local business over another. The concierge is supposed to pass out the downtown shopping map, explain the trolley schedule, and make dining reservations. My boss will lose his mind when he finds out that this woman was bashing local businesses.”
“I want her to lose something,” Nora seethed. “A few teeth would be a good start.”
“Honey, I’ve got this,” June said. “I’m going to record this woman’s think twice speech. I’ll come to town on the next trolley, but I need to hurry if I want a seat in the back. I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses and keep my face hidden behind a map. I tell you, girl, I’ve got this.”
Nora relaxed a little. If anyone could put this situation to rights, it was June.
Around noon, Nora waited for the lunch rush to begin. This was a popular time for locals to pick up special orders or select their next read. It was also when many of the lodge guests who’d started shopping at the other end of town reached Miracle Books.
Gertie and Hank must have done something to influence their fellow trolley riders, because the bookshop was busy from noon until two thirty. As Nora put away strays, she counted customers.
“We have seven customers and less than an hour until the midafternoon rush,” she told Sheldon. “I feel bad, but by the time I got to Soothe, I’d pretty much have to turn around and come back. I’ll call Celeste and let her know that I’m not coming.”
Sheldon, who had a sink filled with dirty mugs, didn’t bother to hide his relief. “That means I can go home, take a hot bath, and then spend the evening in a recliner with my heating pads.”
One look at Sheldon’s swollen wrists and knuckles and Nora knew that he was having nasty rheumatoid arthritis flares. She pointed at the wall clock. “You’re leaving now. Turn around. I’m untying your apron. Don’t bother arguing.”
“I won’t. Everything hurts.”
Nora pulled the bow loose and grabbed the apron before it could fal
l to the floor. When Sheldon turned back around, she wagged a finger at him. “You’re supposed to tell me when you’re hurting. I’d rather have you here for a few hours a day than in bed for days in a row. No acts of heroism. That was our deal.”
“Look who’s talking, Edna St. Vincent Millay,” he said. “You’re burning your candle on both ends so fast that you’ll be a puddle of wax by Halloween. You can’t fix your own problems if you’re wrapped up in your customers’ problems, Celeste’s problems, and Jed’s problems too.”
Nora cocked her head. “I’m not trying to solve a problem for Jed. His mom’s sick. I can’t change that. Or are you talking about something else? What do you know, Sheldon? Come on. Out with it.”
“Okay, okay!” Sheldon threw up his hands in surrender. “He called about twenty minutes ago. I couldn’t interrupt you because you were talking to that man who just lost his dog, but I know that Jed’s going to ask for something you can’t give him.”
“Like what?”
Shaking his head, Sheldon grabbed his lunchbox and headed for the door. “I am not delivering that message. No way. You’ll just have to call him back.” He paused to add, “From somewhere private.”
Even though Sheldon’s cryptic behavior put her on edge, Nora called Celeste first. She’d already missed half of her voluntary shift by that point, but Celeste told her not to worry.
“It’s been a slow day,” she said. “I know slow isn’t profitable, but it was nice to talk to people without being rushed. Those customers made me feel like what I’m doing is worthwhile.”
“It is,” Nora said, pushing aside thoughts of Lazarus Harper. “Listen, Celeste, I’m sure you’re tired at the end of the day, but my friends and I would really like to visit with you on Thursday evening. It’d be me, Hester, Estella, and June. We’ll just bring some food and sit and talk for a bit. What do you say?”
The pause on the other end of the line felt interminable. Finally, Nora heard a faint sniffle. Then Celeste whispered, “Okay.”
“Okay. Take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nora was thrilled that Celeste had agreed to dinner, but her delight didn’t last long. As she walked to the front of the shop to call Jed, her anxiety returned full force.
When Jed didn’t pick up, she left a message saying that she was sorry she missed his call and that she’d definitely answer the phone the next time he tried to reach her.
What was Jed going to ask her? Did he want her to take care of Henry Higgins? Nora didn’t know how she’d manage a dog on top of everything else, but she’d find a way.
“It can’t be that,” she muttered as she washed the last mug. “Sheldon would have told me.”
The sleigh bells clanged, and seconds later, two boys raced past the ticket agent’s booth on their way to the children’s corner. Their mother, an avid reader and loyal customer, wasn’t far behind.
“Hey, Nora.” After taking a moment to catch her breath, she said, “I’d love a Louisa May Alcott for me, a book on Christopher Columbus for Max, and a book on life cycles for Davis. Progress reports go home next Friday, which means projects for everyone. Due Monday. Fun, fun!”
Other mothers and children arrived with similar requests, and the afternoon passed in a blur as Nora handed children books on sea voyages, shipbuilding, explorers, ecosystems, and weather patterns. She also rang up lots of Scottish romance novels.
“I wonder how Bill would look in a kilt,” one woman said to another as they headed for the door. “I could give it to him for Christmas.”
“Where would he wear it?” asked her friend.
The first woman put her hands over her daughter’s ears and said, “Where do you think? The bedroom!”
Her friend’s reply was lost in the clamor of the sleigh bells, but Nora took pleasure in the smiles on the women’s faces and the bags of books dangling from their hands.
The midafternoon rush never ebbed, and before Nora knew it, the workday was over. She’d just finished straightening the shelves and was preparing to lock the front door and turn off the light over the checkout counter when her phone rang. It was Jed.
“You’ve been on my mind all day,” Nora said. “How are you?”
“Horrible. Mom’s in a coma.” He drew in a watery breath. “I’m really scared, Nora.”
Nora heard the pain in Jed’s voice and wished she could ease it for him. Her heart twisted in sympathy, and she pressed the phone closer to her cheek as if she were pressing his body closer to hers. “I’m so sorry, Jed. Can I do anything to help?”
“I need you. Here. Now.” This came out in a raw whisper, as if Jed didn’t have the strength for more. “I don’t want to go through this alone. I’m so tired. I need you to come and be with me.”
His request floored Nora. She’d expected him to ask her to take care of his dog, not borrow someone’s car and drive across the state to join him at his mother’s bedside. There was no way she could do that. She couldn’t abandon Celeste. She couldn’t leave while Connie Knapp and the Women of Lasting Values were targeting Miracle Books. And the Highland Games crowd would be heading to Miracle Springs in a few days. It was impossible.
“Jed . . .”
She didn’t need to say more. The refusal was in her apologetic tone.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She was sorry. Sorry that she couldn’t be with him. Sorry that she had to let him down. Sorry that she’d hurt him when he was already hurting.
“Me too.” He sounded deflated, but also angry. “Just this once, I hoped you’d put me first.”
She heard a click, and Jed was gone.
Nora stood in her empty shop, feeling stunned. It was as if a grenade had detonated, but she hadn’t seen it land or heard the explosion.
“What just happened?” she asked the books, but they had nothing to say. The shelves were swathed in shadow. The colorful spines were a study of grays. All the titles had closed their eyes for the night.
“It’s not your fault,” Nora said, putting her hand on the closest book. “I knew this time would come. When I wouldn’t be enough for him.”
After running her fingertips down another book spine in an attempt to recover her equilibrium, she turned to the front to lock up for the night.
Nora was in a daze as she flipped the sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED, which was probably why she didn’t react when she saw that Sheriff McCabe had cracked the front door.
“I know you’re closed, but there’s someone I want you to meet before you head home. Do you have a minute?”
A woman stood on the sidewalk, looking at something across the street. With her face averted, all Nora could see was a mass of auburn curls.
Suddenly, the woman turned toward the bookshop, and Nora felt like she’d been sucker-punched. She forgot how to breathe. The bones in her legs wobbled. She clutched the doorjamb, unaware that her arms were shaking.
“Are you okay?” McCabe began to push through the doorway. “You’re white as a ghost.”
She’s the ghost.
Nora couldn’t think straight. She was confused—torn between the present and the past.
Pressing her palm against McCabe’s chest, Nora stopped him from coming inside. “It’s not a good time.”
She closed the door in his face, locked it, and vanished into the stacks.
In the middle of the Fiction section, she sank to the floor and hugged her knees.
She would hide there, among all the stories, until it was safe to come out.
Chapter 11
Only cowards torture women.
—Patricia Briggs
“I know you’re in there!” shouted the woman on Nora’s deck. “Stop acting like a child and open the door. It’s just me. Bobbie. I used to be your best friend. Remember? I miss you, goddamn it. I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea. We were friends for twenty years and then, poof! You were gone. I would have given anything to have heard from you just once after you left. Just once.”
Nora
pressed her back against the door as if she expected Bobbie to break it down. And though it kept Bobbie out, her words got in. As Nora listened, her eyes filled with tears. Abandoning her defensive post, she opened the door.
“I go by Nora now,” she told the woman on her welcome mat.
“I assumed it’s after the Nora from Ibsen’s play, though I don’t see why. You can explain that to me, among other things. Or you can tell me nothing.” Bobbie held out her hands. “Just let me come inside so I can give you a hug.”
Nora stepped back as Roberta Rabinowitz, aka Bobbie, walked into her house. Bobbie dropped her bag on the floor and threw her arms around Nora.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” she whispered. “Gawd, it’s been way too long. Let me look at you.”
The two women broke apart. They studied each other’s tear-and-mascara-streaked faces until they both dissolved into laughter.
“Two hot messes in a pod,” said Nora.
“You got that right.” Bobbie pulled a bottle of wine from her bag and pointed at the kitchen. “Nora’s a fitting name for a woman living in a dollhouse. Do you drink out of thimbles, or do you have big girl glasses?”
Nora didn’t stop to consider her actions. She just opened a cabinet and took out a pair of wineglasses. “Remember our rule. No heavy talk until after the toast.”
Bobbie smiled. “It’s a good rule. Like a couple agreeing never to go to bed angry.”
As Nora twisted the corkscrew into the cork, her eyes strayed to Bobbie’s ring finger. She was happy to see a gold band. Bobbie’s marriage was still intact.
The cork came out with a muffled pop. Nora tossed it in the bin while Bobbie poured. When she was done, she picked up her glass and said, “‘Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go.’”
“ ‘To heal my heart and drown my woe,’ ” Nora said, completing the Tolkien couplet.
The women clinked rims and drank.
The wine, a fine Cabernet from Napa Valley, filled Nora’s mouth with a bouquet of summer flavors. She tasted plum, cherries, rich earth, and dark chocolate. The wine was full-bodied and smooth. It flowed down her throat and seeped into her blood, soothing her frayed nerves.
