by Essie Lang
Shelby chose the smallest pastry and placed it on a napkin while she went to get Kent’s coffee and a fresh one for herself. Trudy declined for the moment.
“How are you liking Alexandria Bay, Shelby?” Kent asked between bites.
“A lot of it’s still new, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy living here.”
“That’s good. And how is Edie doing?”
Trudy answered that question. “Her doctor is pleased with her progress. Hopefully, she’ll start physiotherapy in the next couple of weeks. She’s sure getting restless. But the surgery went well.”
Kent chuckled. “I can’t imagine Edie taking well to being confined.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Well, then, I think we should get started. The way this works is you can either look through these catalogs or go on our website and follow along there. I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer, so I’m ready for anything. I’ll point out the books I think will work for you and give my little sales pitches as we go along. Okay?”
Shelby nodded. “I’m a little old school and like to flip through pages, so maybe I’ll use the catalogs, this time anyway.”
“Right.” Kent pulled the briefcases over to the chair Trudy had pointed out for him and unloaded a stack of catalogs. He set his laptop computer on the edge of the counter and opened it. “Now, I’ll fill in the order form on my computer as we go along, and then I’ll email you the final copy later so that you can enter it in your system.”
“By the way, that was a terrible thing that happened on the island. I find it hard to imagine a murder at such an idyllic spot. Has it made any difference to traffic at the bookstore?”
“Not from what we can tell. The sales patterns seem to be similar to last year at this time. It was horrible, though. Did you know Loreena Swan, by any chance?”
“Sure, who didn’t? I’ve lived in Clayton for around twenty years now, and she was a well-known figure there, too. She had a lot to do with our local community theatre, helping to bring the troupe to the Bay for performances. In fact, I ran into her a few weeks ago. She seemed in too much of a hurry to stop and talk.”
“That sounds like Loreena,” Trudy said. “Where was she headed?”
“Well, she was in the parking lot at the wharves and seemed to be looking for someone. I didn’t stick around to see if she had any success. Now, let’s have a look at what I’ve got here. The winter season will be a good one this year.”
Trudy seated herself on a stool she’d pulled over beside Shelby so they could share the catalogs. Kent had pulled up another stool and leaned toward them at the counter, ready to do his sales pitch.
“So, what I usually do,” Trudy explained, “is look at the write-up of the book, and if it’s of interest, I check the author on our database. If he or she has a track record with us, it makes for an easier decision whether to order it. That will also help me decide the quantity.”
“Sounds good,” Shelby replied, eager to get started.
After about an hour, Kent stood to stretch and Trudy went to put on some fresh coffee.
“So, what are your thoughts on being a bookseller, Shelby?” Kent looked genuinely interested in her answer.
“I was in publishing before, so I was already interested in books. But this is such a different part of the industry. I guess my biggest concern is in getting comfortable and trusting myself to make the right decisions about the books. Like today, what to buy and then how to display everything.”
Kent chuckled. “That’ll fall in place soon enough. It just takes doing it over and over. You’ll soon find you develop an instinct for it. At least, the successful booksellers do, and I have a notion that you’ll be one of them.”
Shelby raised her eyebrows.
“You ask the right questions, and what you’ve been choosing seems on track. Trust me.”
“Are all sales reps as helpful and congenial as you?”
Kent’s smile filled his face. “I hope not. I want you to make most of your choices from me, of course. But seriously, it’s a friendly group you’ll be dealing with. We’re not out to do any backstabbing or pull any tricks. We all love books and want them out there for the readers.” He handed over another catalog as Trudy put their coffee cups down on the counter.
They finished the appointment just before noon. “So, what do you think?” Kent asked.
“It’s really interesting,” Shelby admitted. “I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but I love the chance to see what’s new, even if it doesn’t fit in our store.”
Kent grinned. “Spoken like a true bookseller. I’ll leave the catalogs with you in case you’re tempted to take a second look.” He packed away his computer, stood and stretched again, then said his goodbyes. “I’ll make an appointment in late January to go over the spring list.”
“I’m having a hard enough time coming to grips with seeing Christmas books. Now you’re talking about spring?” Shelby said.
“Get used to living simultaneously in two time periods. Have a good selling season. Thanks for the coffee. Trudy, you take care.”
When the door closed behind him, Shelby did her own stretching. “I can’t believe how exhausting that was.”
“It’s the concentration and also just sitting still for so long. As much as I like Kent, sometimes it’s a whole lot easier and quicker if he can’t make it and just mails the catalogs and order forms.” She smiled. “But then we’d miss out on his treats. He always has baked goods with him.”
“Do all of the sales reps do this?”
“The ones from the big publishing houses or distributors do; the others, mainly regional ones, just mail everything. You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Thanks for your help. I could never have made all those decisions on my own.”
“My pleasure. Now, are you working here for the rest of the day?”
“No, I’ll take the next shuttle over to the island. I’ll also take the box of stock that needs to go over.”
Trudy pointed to a cardboard box stashed on the floor in the corner behind the counter. “It’s on the heavy side. Do you think you can manage? I can always get Cody to bring it over later.”
Shelby tested the weight of the box. “I should be able to handle this. Isn’t there a wheelie-thingy hanging around somewhere?” She glanced toward the back room.
Trudy nodded. “Not always a reliable tool, but probably better than nothing.” She had already headed to the back and returned quickly with the small luggage cart—really just a stand on wheels—set it up, and strapped the box to it. “There you go; that should work.”
Shelby smiled as she gathered up her things. “Thanks, Trudy, and thanks again for helping me get through all this ordering business. I realize I still have a lot to learn.”
“You’ll get it soon enough. I really don’t think there’s much you haven’t covered. Now it’s just a matter of repeating it so that it all becomes second nature. By the way, you’re doing a fine job, Shelby.”
Shelby felt her cheeks turning red. She wasn’t used to a lot of praise. She glanced at the clock. Just going on noon. “I’d better get going. Thanks again, Trudy.”
Trudy gave Shelby a brief hug, which took her by surprise.
“Enjoy the afternoon,” Trudy said, already shifting the catalogs to the back room. “Oh, by the way, Edie is coming in to work for a couple of hours. Just thought you should know.”
That sounded good. “One second, Trudy. Can I ask you something?”
Trudy stuck her head around the corner. “Sure.”
“Did you know my mom?”
The phone rang, and Trudy held up a finger to Shelby while she ducked back into the room and grabbed the receiver. Shelby thought it sounded like the call might be a longer one, so she left wondering about the surprised look on Trudy’s face. This was getting silly. Someone had to answer her questions, and soon.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Shelby took her time walking home to the houseboat after work later
that day. She lingered along James Street to do some window shopping but didn’t allow herself to give in to temptation. Nor did she stop by Chocomania either. It felt good just walking along with nothing pressing on her mind for a change. She did sometimes miss the quietness of her previous life, the days she’d be ensconced at her desk behind the baffles, absorbed in reading the manuscript of a hopeful new author. A time when she would spend her evenings in much the same way, not bothered by suspicions or murder. The good old days.
She found herself in front of Goldy Locks and guessed her subconscious sleuthing mind had been at work. There was only one person in the shop, and her name tag said AMANDA. Shelby introduced herself and got right down to the reason for her visit.
“I met your dad at the book club the other night, and he suggested I talk to you about Loreena Swan. Apparently she was a customer?”
Amanda put away the broom she’d been using to sweep behind the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee from a carafe on the counter.
“Would you like some?” she asked, holding it out to Shelby.
“No, thanks. I hit my limit a while ago.”
Amanda grimaced. “Probably a good idea. I can’t even remember when I made this, it’s been so busy.”
Shelby glanced around. There were four styling stations, and she suspected the washbasins were behind a partial wall she glimpsed at the back. Two walls were painted in mauve, and the other two sported floral wallpaper. It looked bright and clean. Maybe she’d give it a try. So far, she hadn’t really bonded with the stylist she’d been seeing at a salon at the other end of the street.
“Well,” Amanda began, “Loreena was a longtime customer. She wasn’t a gossiper, though. Nor was she a good tipper. Sorry, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Anyway, she didn’t talk much, but everyone else did after she’d leave an appointment. She was a source of envy, maybe some pride, and a whole lot of speculation.”
“How so?”
“Well, she did have a position of esteem. Maybe that’s not the right word for it. But she liked to come across as being someone who should be admired. So, of course, she was fair game behind her back.” Amanda shrugged as if saying, That’s just how it is.
“Did you ever hear anything that might provide a clue as to any enemies she had?”
Amanda took a sip of her coffee, made a face, and poured it back into the carafe. She appeared to be giving the question serious thought. “I don’t think enemies is the right word either. Just some women who envied her. She was a very stylish person, you know. I did hear a rumor at one point that she had her eyes set on Duncan Caine. He’s a local realtor. But we all know that Felicity Foxworth, who runs the art store, thinks she and Duncan are an item, even though she’ll likely deny it.”
“Everyone knows that?”
Amanda nodded. “Small town, you know.”
Shelby thought she should take that to heart. Small towns meant lots of gossip, and since Amanda couldn’t come up with any other information she thought might be useful, Shelby thanked her and walked home.
She quickly fed J.T., who’d been waiting for her, or so she liked to think, on shore at the end of the dock. He’d followed her into the houseboat and started meowing the instant she opened the fridge door. After watching him get started, she rooted through the fridge but couldn’t find anything that enticed her. She obviously needed to do some grocery shopping in the next couple of days. She didn’t have a dinner invitation from Edie that night, and although logically she could just pick something up and drop by to find out how the afternoon had gone, Shelby was reluctant. She wanted some sign from Edie, some recognition of her feelings of needing to know more about her mom, before she got back to the dropping-in stage. She still felt weird about her last visit to her aunt’s.
Shelby did, however, have a standing invitation from Drew Bryant to dine at his restaurant, Absinthe & Aurum. He’d seemed interested in her the first time they met and had also mentioned his restaurant along with the invitation. She hadn’t seen him since a couple of weeks before when he’d stopped in at the chocolate shop just as she had gone in for her weekly fix. That wasn’t surprising, given the news that he was back with his old girlfriend.
Oh well, Shelby thought as she headed along James Street to Market. She had to eat, and she enjoyed trying new places, even if she didn’t have any extra motivation to check it out. She found the old house that had been renovated and now sported a vintage-inspired sign announcing that she’d indeed found Absinthe & Aurum. She smiled, enjoying the whimsical name. She knew that absinthe was a liqueur but wondered about aurum. A conversation starter for when she saw Drew.
Shelby realized that she’d walked past the restaurant before but hadn’t taken the time to pay much attention to the aged building. She took a closer look now and guessed it dated from around the 1920s. She liked what she saw. The moss-green paint popped next to the white trim, and it had a wraparound porch, something Shelby had always wanted when, and if, she had her own house. The one she’d shared with her dad in Boston had been a small bungalow, but there was a small front porch where she’d been able to sit and watch the world go by.
She gave her head a small shake. It wasn’t the time nor place to be thinking back to her childhood. Every time she thought she’d stored it tightly away, to be brought out only when the circumstances were right, something snuck back and caught her off guard.
She heard someone singing to the right of the front door. As she climbed the stairs, she saw a young man setting a table, then standing back for a view of his handiwork.
“That looks romantic,” Shelby called out as she reached the porch.
He spun around, and a smile broke out across his face. She took him to be in his late teens, but the black tie and dress shirt made him look older. “Believe me, it is. With the lanterns turned on at night and the great food, along with some wine …” He left the rest to her imagination.
“I can see why you were hired,” she said, smiling.
He grinned and gave her a small bow. “Table for one, two, or more?”
“For one, inside, please.”
“You’ve got it. Follow me, please.”
Shelby stepped into a small entry that opened into a lopsided room. To her right were three tables for two spaced in a row alongside a large bay window with a padded window bench. To the left looked to be the main eating area, with tables of all sizes filling the space. A large stone fireplace claimed one wall, and a wide, dark oak staircase stood beside it. The colors were an earthy mixture, making the room feel warm and inviting.
“As you can see, we’re not full up for tonight yet, so you can have your choice of seats. Unless there’s a reserved sign on it, that is,” he added hastily, sounding a bit embarrassed.
Shelby tried to keep a straight face. She could see how hard he was trying to sound professional about it all.
“How about over in the far corner, the table for two facing the front verandah and with a side window?”
“Excellent choice. I’ll just grab a menu.” He walked over to an obviously antique desk and took a menu from the top of the pile. “Right this way, please.”
“Shelby. It’s great to see you.” She heard the voice and turned to face Drew Bryant, surprised that she hadn’t heard him enter the room. “Thanks. It’s good to see you, too.”
“I was worried you didn’t like Italian food and had decided not to give my place a try.”
“I don’t know where the month has gone,” she admitted. “In some ways it seems like I just got here and in others like I’d never left. But no excuses, I’m really looking forward to treating myself to a delicious meal.”
“Then you’ve definitely come to the right place. I see that Blake is taking good care of you. I’ll let him seat you while I check out something in the back, then I’ll be right with you. In case you have any questions. About the food, that is.” He smiled the charming sincere smile she remembered.
He also looked just as tantalizing as t
he image ingrained in her memory. She took a quick breath to calm her breathing and hoped she didn’t look too eager. She watched his retreating back, amazed at the impact he’d just had on her, and then switched her attention to Blake, who held out a chair for her.
“This looks perfect,” she said as Blake then unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap.
She smiled, enjoying the attention, happy to imagine she was dining in a five-star restaurant.
When Drew returned, he was carrying a glass of red wine. “I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and chose something. If you’re not a wine person, that’s quite all right. I’ll replace it with whatever you want. But it’s a Sangiovese, recently added to my wine list,” he explained. “I’d be interested in your opinion.”
Mine? She nodded and took a sip after swishing the wine around in the glass and taking a sniff. Not that she really knew what she was looking for; she just knew that’s what was done.
“It’s very smooth, and I like the deep texture,” she finally told him after struggling to come up with a description.
He smiled. “Just what I thought, too. It’s good to know we have something in common. Now our specials tonight are Seafood Moilee, and Avocado Gnocchi with herb pesto and a creamy tomato sauce. You might prefer a Sauvignon Blanc with that. Now, sorry, but I have to get back to the kitchen. You enjoy your wine, and Blake will be back to take your order in a bit.”
“You’re the main chef here?” she asked in surprise. Trudy had mentioned he was a chef, but she had thought that since it was his place, he’d abandoned the cooking duties.
“When I finally got my own place, I said I’d only be in the kitchen for the odd special dish, not that I don’t like being in there, but I also enjoy talking about the food to guests. But my head chef quit yesterday, and it’s not easy to replace someone like him, with a lot of experience, so I’m back at it until that happens. So, you know who to complain to if you don’t enjoy the food.”
