Mom ignored him, smiled sweetly, and pounded her gavel. “Meeting adjourned.”
* * *
• • •
Most of the committee members had left the room and Mom was slipping her clipboard into her tote bag when Lawson began a quick, hushed discussion with her. We couldn’t hear what they were saying, but when they were finished, Mom patted his shoulder and said, “I’ll be fine. You take care of yourself, won’t you?”
“I will.” But he didn’t look happy as he strode out of the room.
He must be concerned about Banyan confronting my mother, I thought. But leave it to Mom to be more concerned about someone else’s problems rather than her own. With the way tempers were flaring, though, I was right there with Lawson. I couldn’t help but worry about her safety. And the fact that I needed to worry was really unsettling. Up until a few years ago, Dharma had always been a refuge from the ugliness of the outside world. Seeing that ugliness creeping in here was unsettling. And extremely disappointing.
Everyone else was gone by the time Mom walked toward us. “I think we can go now.”
Derek met her halfway. “Let me carry that for you,” he said, and reached for her tote bag.
“Oh, thank you, sweetie, but I’m just going to tuck it inside my cubby.” She walked to the far wall where a dozen square cubicles and shelves held various items of clothing, books, and notepads. Setting her tote bag into one of them, she explained, “Some of us leave our notes and things here between meetings instead of carting them back and forth from home every day. And we keep the door locked so nobody will take anything.”
“As long as it’s safe,” I said.
“Safe as can be.” She pulled her smaller handbag from the tote. “But I keep my personal stuff with me.”
“Good,” I said. “You ready to go?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She looked exhausted. “I’m ready.”
I walked over and slipped my arm through hers. “We thought we’d show up and surprise you, Mom. But this probably wasn’t the happiest moment to sneak in here.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “We’ll all be friends again tomorrow.”
Of course my mother would believe that, but I doubted it. Still, I smiled encouragingly. “I hope so. But Mr. Dinkins sounded really angry.”
“He’ll snap out of it,” she said sharply.
“Ooo-kay.” I cast a quick glance at Derek, who flanked her other side and wrapped his arm around Mom’s shoulders.
“Let’s get you home, Rebecca.”
Usually when someone called her Rebecca, Mom would tell them to call her Becky. But when Derek said it, she purred like a happy kitten. I couldn’t blame her.
She leaned her head against his chest. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“It’s lovely to see you, too.”
Mom lifted her head and glanced at me. “I should apologize for all the ugly vibes circulating around here today.”
“Not your fault, Mom. Let’s go home and have a glass of wine.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Feeling the need to protect my mother from those vibes she mentioned, Derek and I stuck close to her all the way out to the sidewalk along Berkeley Circle. I observed a few of the committee members talking together in small groups and hoped they weren’t planning a coup. Mom didn’t need that aggravation. I waved to Clyde but he was talking to Lawson and didn’t notice me.
Mom looked around. “Where did you park?”
“It’s such a nice day,” I said, “we parked a few blocks away and walked. But if you’d rather . . .”
Derek caught my glance. “Why don’t you two wait here and I’ll go get the car.”
Mom patted his arm. “No, no. The walk will do me good. Calm my nerves.”
Derek stared into her eyes. “If you’re sure.”
“Absolutely.”
“All right, then.”
With Derek and me still flanking Mom, we strolled around the curve of Berkeley Circle to the Lane and headed south toward the car.
I finally had to say what I was thinking. “I can’t understand why anyone would want that Banyan guy to take part in the festival.”
Mom shrugged. “For one thing, most of the members who voted ‘nay’ don’t own wineries. And not that it matters, but since they’re not commune members, they don’t think they have a stake in Dharma’s future.”
“But that’s ridiculous. We’re a community like any other in the country.”
“I’ve tried to tell them.” Mom sighed. “I mean, Saffron owns a business in town and half of her customers are Fellowship members. Nobody boycotts her simply because she’s not a member. Why would she pick a fight over a nonexistent issue?”
“I think Clyde had it right,” I mused. “Jacob Banyan is paying her to do his dirty work.”
“Apparently that’s true, even though she tried to deny it.” Mom shook her head. “It’s kind of sad.”
I squeezed Mom’s arm. “I would feel a lot more sympathetic, but she’s such a grinch.”
“She can’t help it, poor thing,” Mom admitted. “Her aura is positively gray. And her complaints are completely unfounded. It’s just not fair. I didn’t try to stack the committee with Fellowship members. There are just more of us than anyone else in Dharma because, you know, we built the town. And we tend to take an interest in what’s going on in our town because, well, it’s ours. Robson instilled that sense of community in all of us from the very beginning.”
“That’s true, Mom.” Guru Bob had always led by example. He was committed to living a life of quality, kindness, and service. My mom and dad and the rest of his followers had strived to do the same, and those lessons had been drummed into their children’s psyches from an early age.
Mom thought about it for a long moment. “What I’m trying to say is that even though Saffron and others like her have lived here a long time, they’ve never once tried to learn our history or our philosophy. They don’t understand that part of our culture is to welcome everyone. We make a big deal about not being, you know, an exclusive club. A cult. A secret society. Any of those silly things.”
“You’ve always bent over backward to avoid giving that impression.” And maybe, I couldn’t help thinking, that hadn’t always been the best way. If they’d been more careful in who they’d allowed to move into town, they wouldn’t be dealing with Saffron and her allies now. But that just wasn’t the commune’s way. And to be honest, I wouldn’t want it to be.
“It’s their loss, Rebecca,” Derek said. “Your generosity is overflowing and I, for one, feel very fortunate to be a part of your family and your life.”
Mom beamed at Derek and then flashed me a smile. “Have I told you lately how much I love this guy?”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “Me, too.”
As we approached Warped, Mom said, “Did you get a chance to talk to China earlier?”
“Yes, briefly. But we can stop if you want to talk to her.”
“No, we don’t have to stop,” Mom said. “We’ll just wave as we pass by.”
“Okay.”
We stopped in front of China’s shop window and waved. She saw us and waved back. Then we all laughed at ourselves and the three of us continued our walk.
“That was fun,” Mom said, clearly feeling better.
As we passed the Good Book, Clyde stepped outside the shop. “Brooklyn, hold on.”
I turned. “Hey, Clyde.” With a grin, I grabbed him in a hug. “It’s great to see you.”
He patted my shoulder, then stepped back and scratched his head self-consciously. “Saw you at the committee meeting but couldn’t stop to chat. I had to get the hell out of there.”
“I don’t blame you. The meeting seemed to get a little tense.”
“Ya think?�
� Clyde rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’m glad I caught you.”
“Me, too.”
Mom touched Derek’s arm. “You remember Brooklyn’s husband Derek.”
“Sure do. You’re a lucky man,” Clyde said gruffly, shaking Derek’s hand.
“I’m well aware,” Derek said with a smile.
“Good.” Not one to dawdle, Clyde turned and yanked the shop door open. “Come in here. I’ve got a book for you.”
I glanced at Mom and we both raised our eyebrows. “I can’t wait to see it.”
I walked in and was instantly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of books. Call me a weirdo, but I could get high off that heady combination of pulpy vellum and aged leather, along with the slightest hint of cinnamon. It was a trick used by savvy booklovers to treat their wooden bookshelves with cinnamon oil in order to ward off the infestation of silverfish and other annoying paper-loving insects.
“I know it’s a bit late to ask,” Clyde explained, “but I just came across this little gem yesterday.” He reached behind the counter, pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper, and handed it to me. “If you have time to fix it, great. If not, I’ll understand.”
I carefully unwrapped the paper and stared at the book inside. “Little Women,” I said, smiling. “How perfect.” I noted that the poor book had been handled badly, but underneath the scruffiness was a beautiful treasure waiting to be rediscovered. “Where did you find it?”
“Uh, just around,” Clyde muttered.
“Wow, lucky find.”
“Yeah, sure. I, uh, found it in a used bookstore. Yeah, over in Grass Valley.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Paid almost nothing for it, but I thought it could be worth some money if it got fixed up.”
“Definitely,” I said, immediately wondering why Clyde sounded nervous.
“It’s kind of a mess,” he continued, his voice stronger now. “But the paper’s good and the cover’s pretty decent. Just need you to resew it and glue it and, you know, do all that other magical stuff you do.”
I turned the book to study it from different angles. On the front cover, a vibrant color illustration showed the backs of four young women walking arm in arm through a tree-lined park. Each of them wore a long skirt and petticoat in the style of the 1860s and a different colorful shawl across their shoulders.
I could tell that the book’s spine, though worn and faded and coming loose, had once been a pretty shade of blue.
Both back and front covers of the book were dangling by a few threads. Most of the signatures—those folded pages that are sewn together to make up the textblock—had come apart completely. As a whole, the book was a mess, but its individual parts were outstanding.
I had my work cut out for me.
“Do you plan to sell it during the festival?” I asked.
“That was the original plan. But if you can get the work done in time, I was thinking of entering it in the silent auction. That way, all the money will go to charity.”
The silent auction was part of the Saturday-night festivities and the proceeds would be donated to an adult-literacy organization.
“That’s a lovely idea, Clyde,” Mom said.
As a book nerd, I had to agree.
Clyde coughed again, but this time I knew it was because he tended to feel awkward when anyone tried to pay him a compliment. This was part of his curmudgeonly charm, as far as I was concerned. “Huh,” he muttered, then looked at me. “Well, do you think you can finish it in time?”
“Of course I can.” I almost laughed. Clyde knew me too well, knew that as soon as I saw this jewel of a book, I would be itching to start work on it.
“I’ll pay you, of course.”
I gave him a long look. “How about if you take the money you’d normally pay me and put it toward the charity.”
He didn’t smile exactly, but gazed at me with something that might’ve been pride. “You’re a good girl, Brooklyn.”
“She sure is,” Mom said sweetly, giving my arm a squeeze.
“I should be able to finish it by the end of the week,” I said.
“Perfect.” He gave me a curt nod. “Thanks.”
Now that our business was completed, I took a moment or two to check out the bookstore. Sadly, I hadn’t visited Clyde’s shop in more than a year. But growing up, I used to stop in at least once a week. I adored this little shop with its narrow aisles and its rolling library ladder. I loved its mix of new bestsellers, classic used books, fascinating how-tos, and the rack of comics by the front desk.
The most surprising aspect of the shop was its cleanliness. I had been in hundreds of used bookshops in dozens of cities all over the world. And while I loved them all in different ways, I could admit that, in general, every one of them could use some serious housecleaning at least once a year or so.
But Clyde’s shop was nearly spotless and virtually dust-free. I knew he had been inspired to overhaul the entire space from top to bottom soon after his grandkids began visiting the store and picking out their own books. It turned out that his youngest granddaughter was allergic to everything and would start sneezing as soon as she walked inside. The dust in the shop triggered her asthma, Clyde had explained, so he took action.
In each of the four corners there was a comfortable chair for reading. In the middle of the shop was a round reading table large enough to seat eight people.
Once a month Clyde held a “Meet the Author” event where he would invite a famous author to visit. He served wine and cookies, and generally attracted a good crowd. The one unusual aspect of the event was that the authors were always dead. So basically, Clyde held a séance once a month.
My mother was a regular attendee and a big fan of all the dead authors. And now with Derek’s mother Meg visiting Dharma on a regular basis, the two of them attended the events together as often as possible.
I gave Clyde another hug. “I’ll have to come back and browse when I have more time.”
“You’re welcome anytime, as always.”
“And I’ll have the book back to you by Friday.”
“That’ll do it.”
We left the store and continued walking down the Lane toward the car. When we were a block away, I heard footsteps pounding on the sidewalk behind us and turned around.
“Oh my God,” I cried.
“What is it, dear?” Mom asked, then turned and gasped.
Derek had already whipped around and moved in front of Mom to protect her from Jacob Banyan.
I felt every muscle in my body tense up in alarm.
Mom touched Derek’s back. “It’s all right, Derek. I’m sure Mr. Banyan just wanted to say hello.”
“I very much doubt that,” Derek said, his laser-like gaze focused on Banyan.
“What do you want, Banyan?” I asked.
Banyan curled his lip in disgust. “Quite the little army you’ve got here, Becky. They won’t always be around to protect you, though.”
“I don’t need protection from you, Banyan.”
“Want to bet?” he murmured, his tone menacing.
Derek leaned closer. “You should think twice about threatening people, Banyan. It could get you into trouble.”
“From you?” He scoffed. “That sounds like a threat to me. I’m just trying to live my life here.”
“Then go do that,” Derek said quietly. “Walk away. Now.”
Banyan bared his teeth. “I don’t follow orders from you, pretty boy.”
Good grief, I thought again. I hoped for Banyan’s sake that he wouldn’t find out what a big mistake he was making.
Derek just laughed. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
“I know exactly what I’m doing. And you’ll be sorry if you get in my way.”
And then he actually tried to shove Derek aside. Derek didn’t budg
e an inch and Banyan scowled. He leaned to his left to make eye contact with Mom, but Derek took a step in that direction and blocked his view.
“For goodness’ sake, Jacob.” Mom was clearly fed up. She patted Derek’s back and stepped around him to confront Banyan. “What do you want?”
Banyan gripped Mom’s arm. “I heard what you said about me after I left the meeting.”
“Looks like you have your own little army reporting back to you then,” Mom said, mocking him. “Isn’t that special?”
He might’ve squeezed her arm tighter, but in a lightning-fast move, Derek grabbed Banyan’s arm and wrenched it behind his back.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Banyan howled, arching his back to try and relieve the pain.
“I warned you,” Derek said, his voice deadly calm.
“Let go of me!”
Derek released him suddenly and Banyan almost fell over.
Rubbing his shoulder, Banyan muttered, “I’ll kill you for that.”
Derek made a tsking sound. “Sounds like another threat.”
Banyan’s nostrils flared like an angry bull, but he was smart enough to leave Derek alone. Instead, he jabbed his finger in Mom’s direction. “Don’t try to blackball me, you witch.”
“But I’m a good witch,” Mom said saucily.
Unlike Saffron Bergeron, I thought, but kept silent.
“Think you’re real funny, don’t you?” He bared his teeth. “One of these days I’ll find you all alone and wipe that smile off your pretty little face.”
Mom gave him a cool stare. “That’s enough. You’re boring me, Banyan. Now get out of my way.”
“I’ll go when I’m good and ready.” But he was still rubbing his shoulder. “Just remember this. You try to keep me out of the festival and I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another day.”
Chapter 3
We walked the rest of the way in silence, deep in our own thoughts, until I couldn’t take it anymore. “He’s horrible!”
The Grim Reader Page 4
