The Secret, Book & Scone Society

by Ellery Adams

  “Go to the Gingerbread House,” Nora said in a low voice to the wife. “Order comfort scones. One for each of you. It’ll take Hester at least thirty minutes to make them, so it’s a good thing you have something to read. Trust me, you won’t regret the wait.”

  “Okay, we’ll head there next. Thanks for the recommendation.”

  After the couple departed to a chorus of boisterous sleigh bells, Nora spread her left hand like a starfish and tried to remember what it felt like to wear a wedding band. It had been well over four years since she’d taken hers off, and she didn’t miss the way the diamonds had rubbed against her skin or raised a callus on her palm. She didn’t miss its weight or how the garish center stone had caught the sunlight.

  Nora preferred the ring she now wore: an antique, silver-plated mood ring that seemed forever fixed on the color blue. According to the charts she’d seen online, her ring indicated that she was permanently calm.

  Or half-dead, she thought, rubbing the ring’s oval surface with the pad of her index finger.

  Neil Parrish’s death had jarred something loose inside Nora. She didn’t understand why, because she hadn’t known him. Still, her determination to prevent his being labeled a suicide had her taking chances she hadn’t been willing to take until now.

  That night, as she prepared for the arrival of the other women, Nora ruminated over why she’d become so invested in Neil Parrish. Strangers with broken hearts, injured bodies, and damaged psyches came to Miracle Springs on every train, so why did she care about this stranger? Why did any of them?

  It was the first question she posed to Hester, Estella, and June once they were seated in their circle of chairs.

  “Did you read today’s paper?” June demanded, her voice rising in anger. “The sheriff’s ruling is on the bottom of the front page. It’s just a blurb. A man’s life reduced to four sentences. I care because I know what it’s like to be judged, brushed aside, and forgotten. Like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “Me too,” said Estella. “And though I’ve learned not to care about what people think about me, I still like helping people. I like helping women to feel beautiful, sexy, and confident. I like seeing their expression when I spin their chair around and they see themselves in the mirror after one of my transformation sessions. It doesn’t matter if they’ve lost all their hair because of chemo or if they have wrinkles or a double chin. I’ve yet to meet a woman who isn’t beautiful as long as she believes she’s beautiful.”

  Hester was staring at Estella. “I thought I had you pegged, but I was wrong. I’m as guilty as half of the women in town of misjudging you. I’m sorry, Estella.”

  Estella waved off the apology. “Honey, I’ve gone out of my way to play a part. What else could I expect but for people to see me as a money-grubbing slut? After hanging out with you gals on Sunday, though, I realized that I wanted more of this.” She gestured around the circle. “We’re no Fellowship of the Ring, but I haven’t had girlfriends since high school. Not close ones, anyway. These days, my closest friends are all fictional.”

  “So are mine,” Nora said. “Then again, I think my best relationships have been with someone I found in the pages of a book.”

  “That can only satisfy us to a certain degree,” June said. She put her hand to her heart. “I felt a kinship among us on Sunday too. Our ages, skin colors, and backgrounds didn’t matter one iota. We were just women with a common purpose. Period. It felt good to connect like that. It’s been a while since I connected to anyone.”

  “Are we all loners?” Hester asked softly. “Is that why we identified with Neil?”

  “What spoke to me was his regret,” June said. “His desire to fix what he’d helped break—whatever that was.” She turned to Estella. “Are you ready for your date? Because if you’re planning to pump Renfield for information, that poor man doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Estella wore a form-fitting dress with a bold floral print that reminded Nora of a Georgia O’Keeffe painting. Except for a few strands that had been artfully chosen to frame her pretty face, Estella’s hair was swept into a loose chignon. “Before we head to the Oasis and I veer off for my date while the three of you spy on the other partners, I’ve been thinking about what Nora said the last time we met. About how the four of us could learn to trust each other.” She paused for a long moment. “I decided that I’m going to trust you with my story. But to tell it, I need liquid courage, which is why I brought wine. Would anyone like to share with me? It’s not the good stuff—just cheap red table wine—but it takes the edge off.”

  “With that recommendation, how could I say no?” Hester laughed. “Do you mind if I grab mugs, Nora?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Estella uncorked the bottle with the corkscrew she took from her purse and filled four mugs. Hester had given Nora a black-and-white mug with the text PLEASE GO AWAY, I’M INTRO-VERTING TODAY.

  It was one of Nora’s favorites.

  June showed her cardinal-red mug to the rest of the group. “Mine says YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME. I don’t get it.”

  Hester grinned. “You will when your wine is gone. “She then turned to Estella. “I had a feeling you might tell us your story tonight, so I brought you a scone. You don’t have to eat it now. You can take it home with you.”

  Estella took the white box Hester offered and held it as though it held a venomous snake. “Is this a trade? A baked good for my story? A scone for a secret?”

  Hester looked to Nora for help.

  “By showing up tonight, we’ve agreed to trust each other,” Nora said. “With our stories. Which, I imagine, are the secrets we’ve been keeping from the rest of the world.”

  Estella opened the bakery box lid by a centimeter and inhaled. “And scones. Don’t forget the scones.”

  “Or the books.” June gestured around their space. “I feel safe here, surrounded by walls of stories.”

  “The Secret, Book, and Scone Society.” Nora’s voice was hushed and solemn. She let the name hang in the empty air between them for a moment, but was pleasantly surprised by how right it felt. “We won’t be an ordinary book club,” she continued. “We’re all book lovers and we can always talk about books, but we came together to help a man who can longer help himself. Whether or not we succeed, we should continue meeting until we know Neil Parrish’s whole story.”

  Estella picked up her mug. “And to drink crappy wine.”

  Hester grabbed hers. “And to be among friends.”

  “And to laugh,” June added. “I want more lines on my face—lines from laughing instead of frowning.”

  Estella issued a dramatic gasp. “I don’t think I can toast to that one, but I’ll raise my cup to the rest.”

  The women grinned and waited for Nora to claim her mug.

  Though she hadn’t touched alcohol since her accident, Nora wanted to share in this moment, so she knocked rims with the other three women and took a sip of wine.

  Estella hadn’t lied. The wine wasn’t good. Nora had had balsamic vinaigrette with more balanced flavors. Still, she was relieved that the oaky smell and the sensation of the wine flowing over her tongue didn’t raise images of that terrible night from four years ago. The night she was burned.

  Somehow, the walls of books held the bad memories at bay. Protected inside her fortress of words, Nora looked at her new fellow book-club members and exchanged shy smiles with them.

  “Okay,” Estella said, leaning back into her chair. “Now that we have a sexy name and I’ve opened this bottle of shitty wine, I should get started. I don’t mind going first, either. It’s what I was known for in school. First girl to French kiss a boy. First girl to lose her virginity. First girl to make out with a teacher behind the bleachers.”

  Hester’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  Estella laughed. This time, there was humor in it. “Honey, the expression been around the block applied to me at a very early age—probably because the chip-off-the-old-block expression
did too. When I was growing up, our house had a revolving door and the men came and went like a Best Buy store on Black Friday.”

  “Where was your daddy through all this?” June wanted to know.

  The glint in Estella’s eyes winked out like a snuffed candle flame. “He took off when I was knee-high without any warning. Cleaned out the checking and savings accounts before he went too.”

  “Bastard,” Nora muttered.

  “Mama married young,” Estella continued. “She had me, her GED, and her looks—not much to bank on. She wasn’t the town whore. Nothing that base, but she used her sex appeal to get things from men. If the men were single, married, widowed—she didn’t care—and she seemed to know which guys would succumb to her charms and which ones wouldn’t. When she was entertaining these gentlemen at our house, I was supposed to make myself scarce.” Estella paused to drink from her mug. “It was a lonely childhood. I was never invited to play at other kids’ houses and they never came to mine.”

  Hester poured a little more wine into Estella’s mug. “And you lived in Miracle Springs the whole time?”

  “There was nowhere else to go,” Estella said, sounding defensive. “Mama had two things going for her: the roof over her head and her influence over certain men. Eventually, she got a part-time job and started looking around for a permanent replacement for my daddy. She told me never to marry for love. She told me never to forget how that had worked out for her.” Estella shrugged. “So I took what she said to heart, and as soon as I hit puberty, I started using my body to get things I wanted.”

  June made a sympathetic noise. “I bet that kept you on the fringes, didn’t it?”

  “I had a few bad-girl-type friends in high school, but they all went off to college or married and left town while I stayed here. Worked my way through community college and earned my cosmetology license and a degree in business. My mom died before I graduated, so I sold our house to rent space for my salon. I had to rent because no bank would give me a loan.”

  “You were even younger than I was when you started your business,” Hester said. “And I know all about those loan officers. They all asked if I had a husband to cosign my loan. If not a husband, a father, brother—you get the drift.”

  Estella raised her mug. “I do. I’m sure Nora got the same treatment.”

  “I actually bought this place sight unseen. I called the train company and made a cash offer. I also told them that I was ready to close right away. The other buyers weren’t as attractive.” Nora smiled. “On paper, that is.”

  “Just wait until I get a little makeup on you,” Estella said. “I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are.” She flicked her wrist. “But let me finish. I’m getting to the hard part and this is where I need a little liquid courage.”

  Estella drank deeply from her mug and the other women sipped their own wine in solidarity.

  “Mama remarried when I was in high school. My stepdaddy owned a car dealership and drove around town in the sleekest, shiniest, newest sports car. For Mama, who could never afford anything new, this was a true symbol of wealth. He was a fat, balding bully of a man. No other woman wanted him, but Mama thought she could tame him.”

  June groaned. “Lord, I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “He started smacking her around right after the honeymoon,” Estella went on. Her voice was flat and her eyes had gone glassy. She was traveling back in time. “It didn’t take long before he came after me.” She touched her flat belly. “He was crafty about where he hit us. Never in the face. Always in the gut or the sides. He liked to kick us when we were down too. I mean that literally. He had a pair of black wingtip dress shoes—the same kind the businessmen having their ten-dollar cocktails at the Oasis Bar wear—and he made me polish them until he could see his ugly mug grinning back at him from the leather.”

  Estella’s gaze fell to her own shoes—strappy silver sandals that showed off the plum polish on her toenails and the thin ring encircling the second toe on her right foot. “This went on for almost two years. And then, one night, Mama fought back. She ended up in the hospital with a dislocated jaw, broken ribs, and a patchwork of bruises. My stepdaddy spent a night in the drunk tank. When he got home, he was ticked at me because I was the one who ran next door and told the neighbor that he was killing Mama. The neighbor lady called the cops.”

  “At least she listened to you,” Nora said. “Sometimes people don’t want to believe that something so horrible could be happening that close.”

  Estella nodded. “I should have gone back to her the next day, but I was embarrassed. My stepdaddy wasn’t happy about having his behavior exposed or that he’d had to sleep it off in a cell. He started in on me with conviction. I thought I was a goner until, lo and behold, another man showed up and shot my stepdaddy right through his black heart.”

  “Who was the shooter?” Hester asked breathlessly.

  “My daddy. He was passing through town and decided to pay Mama and me a visit. When he saw a man with his hand around my neck, he pulled a pistol out of his jacket and yelled at my stepdaddy to get his hands off me. When my stepdaddy turned to see who was hollering at him, my daddy fired.”

  Nora knew Estella’s story was true. She could tell that Estella hadn’t fabricated a single detail, but it sounded so painful that it could easily have been a work of fiction. Nora thought of how the cover might look. What font the title might have. One thing was certain: It would have to be a hardback. After what Estella had been through, there was no doubt her story must be protected by a pair of unyielding covers and a firm, unbending spine.

  “Daddy went to prison,” Estella continued. Her voice had turned soft and small. “He was already a wanted man before he saved me. He’d gotten into drugs and they messed with his mind. After Mama died, he was the only family I had left. He is the only family I have left. And he’s here. In a correctional facility outside of Asheville.”

  Estella released a long, slow exhalation. It sounded like it came from deep in her lungs, as if she were expelling stale air and her oldest secret.

  “He’s the reason I can’t leave Miracle Springs. He ruined my life. And then he saved my life. They shouldn’t balance each other out, but somehow, they do. The end result is that I can’t leave.” She threw her hands out in a gesture of helplessness. “And so I escape by attaching myself to strange men for a few days. It’s not the sex I’m after. Or power over them. Though that does feel good for an hour or two.”

  “What are you after, then?” Hester asked. Like Nora and June, she’d barely moved since Estella had started speaking.

  Estella contemplated her answer for a moment. “Getting a glimpse into their worlds affords me a temporary escape. I also like how I look through their eyes. I’m always a breath of fresh air. I’m never small-town or unsophisticated. I’m their escape too. Their fantasy.”

  “I’m sorry, honey, but what you’re describing sounds too shallow to make you feel good for long,” June said gently. “I bet there are plenty of men who would offer you the real thing. A real relationship.”

  Estella laughed. “I don’t even know what that looks like.” She glanced at her watch and gasped. “We can’t focus on me anymore. After I gussy you gals up, we need to get to the Oasis. For once, I plan to be on time for a date.”

  * * *

  Nora hadn’t taken such pains over her appearance since the night of her accident. She was dressed in her nicest slacks and a silky tank top in a quicksilver hue. Estella had styled her hair and applied her makeup with a deft, expert hand. The beautician was shocked to learn that Nora didn’t own any high heels and insisted on stopping by her place to grab a pair.

  “I feel more uncomfortable than usual, and that’s saying something,” Nora whispered to Hester as the trio entered the Oasis Bar. Estella, who’d gone in ahead of them, was nowhere to be seen.

  “You look beautiful,” Hester said.

  Nora threw her a grateful smile. “Thanks. It’s not my scars
this time. It’s actually my feet. I don’t know how Estella walks in these things.”

  “You heard the woman,” June said. “She started young. Too young. And you might feel awkward, but every man in this room is checking you out.”

  “Let’s introduce ourselves to Bob,” Nora suggested, and tottered over to the bar.

  As it turned out, there was no need.

  “Hello, ladies!” The middle-aged bartender beamed at them. “This is a nice treat. I’ve been to your places of business, but this is the first time you’ve been to mine.” He turned his friendly gaze on June. “You work at the pools, right?”

  June nodded and introduced herself.

  “You get an employee discount here,” Bob told June. He then leaned over and whispered, “I’ll extend it to Ms. Nora and Ms. Hester too. After all, what would Miracle Springs be without our bookstore and bakery?” Standing upright again, he asked, “What can I tempt you with this evening, ladies?”

  “Surprise us,” Hester said before Nora or June could reply.

  Bob promised to both surprise and delight them and began pouring ingredients into a chilled cocktail shaker. A waitress deposited a bowl of snack mix on the bar before continuing toward one of the booths to deliver a platter of coconut shrimp.

  I should be eating instead of drinking, Nora thought. It had been so long since she’d consumed alcohol that the single glass of wine she’d had back at the bookstore was already making her smile too much.

  One glance at the menu and Nora changed her mind. For the price of an appetizer, Nora could buy enough groceries to cook an entire meal.

  Hester and June had the same reaction. After a cursory glance at the menu, they both began eating handfuls of snack mix. Nora followed suit.

  By the time Bob presented them with their drinks—mango and basil martinis—the bowl was empty.

  “I’ll get you gals a bread basket,” he said, flashing them a kind grin. A minute later, the waitress delivered a basket stuffed with dill rolls, corn-bread muffins, rosemary flatbread, and pimento cheese biscuits. Tucked into the basket was a bowl of honey butter and a second bowl that Bob identified as roasted red-pepper spread.