by Ellery Adams
A loud sniffle from across the table gave Andrews pause. He glanced at Estella over the top of the letter.
“This changes everything, don’t you see?” She wiped away a tear. “Bob didn’t give a crap about money. And I don’t think he was in love with me, either. We were genuinely fond of each other. It was almost . . . better than being in love. It was something we could both count on.” Another tear rolled down her chin. “I’m not saying that he’s a good guy or anything. He killed two people. But he was trying to protect his neighbors. He—”
“He went about it all wrong,” June pointed out.
Nora held up her hand to keep June from saying anything else. “And he paid a terrible price. Let’s give him a chance to redeem himself. After all, isn’t that what we were trying to do for Neil?”
The other women nodded.
Andrews, sensing the floor was his again, continued reading.
“I was paid to take out Parrish. But later on, Stone, that harpy Vanessa MacCavity, Sheriff Hendricks, and his snake of a brother, Dawson, were worried that Fenton Greer had over-shared with Estella in the bathhouse, so Stone hired me to kill Greer.
“I never trusted Stone or his pals, so I recorded conversations and both murders using my phone. There should be plenty on that USB to nail the bastards. I knew I was right when I saw Greer’s cocktail napkin. Greer was making a list of the people who’d need extra incentive to keep their mouths shut about Parrish’s untimely death. Dawson and Annette had both heard Parrish complain about what Pine Ridge was doing, and Sheriff Toad would need whatever payoff his brother got or he wouldn’t be happy. I wish I had that napkin as extra proof, but Greer took it when he left the bar.
“Anyway, that’s my story. And if you’re reading this, it hasn’t had a happy ending. That’s okay. It’s what I expected. And what I deserve. Just know I did what I did because I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while good people got hurt.”
Andrews placed the letter back in the envelope and slipped the envelope into an evidence bag. “I need to get this to the techs.” He looked at each woman in turn. “Thank you.”
Estella pretended to examine her newly polished fingernails. “It’s nothing. Seriously. What’s a few days in a jail cell or hospital room? I bet we’ll never get a speeding ticket in Miracle Springs again, will we?”
Andrews barked out a laugh. “I can’t make that promise, Ms. Sadler.” His smile faded as he added, “After all, the sheriff’s department has a soiled reputation to restore.”
Estella followed Andrews and her friends outside. “Reputations are overrated, Deputy. Take it from me. People will believe what they choose to believe. All you can do is wake up and try to be a better person than you were the day before.”
“Is that from a book?” Andrews asked.
Estella looked at Nora and smiled. “Probably. Isn’t everything worth repeating from a book?”
* * *
Nora couldn’t stop touching her hair. It had been years since she’d worn it shoulder-length with layers framing her face, and she felt so much lighter. In losing her heavy, long side braid in the model-home fire, she’d gained a sense of freedom. Of newness.
“Does it hurt?” June asked, pointing at Nora’s left arm.
Nora glanced down at her angry-looking skin. “Not really. I’m using prescription lotion to take away the sting. I should be back to normal in a few days.” She gave a self-effacing shrug. “In other words, I’ll only be burned on my right side.”
Estella, who’d been in the ticket-agent’s office pouring cups of decaf, called out, “You’d better get used to being the face of Miracle Springs. Do you realize what’ll happen when people find out that you survived a second fire? All in the name of justice?”
“Hopefully, they’ll pour into Miracle Books and leave again with a bag in each hand,” June said. “After that, they can go to the Gingerbread House. And your appointment book will always be full, Estella.”
“Sorry I’m late!” Hester shouted above the slam of the back door. She entered the circle of chairs and handed Nora a bakery box. “Are you ready?”
Nora pulled the box closer to her chest. She could feel the scone’s heat right through the box. “Yes. It’s time.”
The members of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society distributed cups of coffee and puff pastries Hester had shaped to resemble open books. She’d embellished the treats by adding lines of melted chocolate to each book, creating the effect of text.
“I thought you might like to sell these here,” Hester said. “I could make them once the morning rush is over or teach you how to bake them. You could offer a chocolate version or ones with raspberry text. Or a blank book sprinkled with powdered sugar.”
Nora was stunned. “I was going to ask you about making something special for Miracle Books, but I thought I’d wait until I was sure we’d both still have businesses to run. For a while there, I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through this ordeal.”
“Girl, please.” June flicked her wrist in dismissal. “Can’t you read my mug?”
June’s mug featured the outline of a sheep and the text I WOOL SURVIVE.
The women shared a companionable laugh, but when the laughter had drifted into the rafters, the bookstore held a quiet expectation, so Nora pulled on the ends of the mirrored coffee table and exposed the hidden compartment. Using the key affixed to her bookmark, Nora opened the lock, raised the lid, and removed a shoe box from inside the cavity.
Instead of resuming her seat in one of the soft chairs, she dropped to her knees.
“In my first life, I was an upper-class suburban housewife and librarian,” Nora began. She curled her fingers around the edge of the box in a protective gesture. “I thought I loved my husband when we got married, but I think I loved the idea of marriage more than the person I stood next to at the altar. Because of what I’d read in books, I wanted a friend, lover, and partner in crime. I wanted a fantasy man who was a blend of Atticus Finch, Nick Charles, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rhett Butler, Jack Reacher, and Noah from The Notebook.”
“If you ever find a man like that, send him my way,” Estella said.
Nora shook her head. “That’s my point. He doesn’t exist. And I didn’t know how to love the man I’d chosen. I was an excellent librarian. I was a devoted friend. I’m not sure if I was a good wife. I took care of the house. I cooked. I picked up the dry cleaning. I attended his boring work functions. I made our weekend plans. But as the years passed, our lives were nothing but a predictable orbit. A good marriage needs collisions. Meteorites and solar flares. Fights, laughter, passion, sex. Stars dying and being reborn. What we ended up with was as distant and cold as space. Only I didn’t see it. I was too busy with my routine to see that we had died almost from the beginning.”
Nora paused for a sip of coffee. Earlier that day, she’d told her friends that she didn’t want alcohol at tonight’s meeting. No one had asked why.
“My husband found a different way of filling the void,” Nora continued with her narrative. “He started having an affair.”
June muttered, “Damn.”
“It went on for over a year without my knowledge. My husband became an adept liar. He also pretended to care more about me during this time. He wrote me sweet notes and brought me flowers. I thought our marriage was improving, but these tokens were signs of its impending finale. My husband didn’t love me. He wanted to be with this other woman, but guilt caused him to waffle between the two of us. He had sex with both of us. He went on dates with both of us. He made promises to both of us. But his two worlds collided on New Year’s Eve when he snuck out to meet her.”
“On a major holiday?” Hester asked. “Didn’t you two have plans?”
Nora took another sip of coffee. She needed its warmth to make it through this next part. “I’d gone to bed early—hopped up on cold meds—and was suddenly jarred awake by some noise on the downstairs TV. When I realized that my husband was gone, I called his cell. He didn’t pick up
. Worried and confused, I looked on his computer and saw . . . well, what I saw turned my world upside down.”
“Of course it did, honey,” June whispered.
“What I remember most is the rage,” Nora continued. “My whole body shook with fury. I broke, tore, or bashed lots of his stuff, but it didn’t help. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel the pain I was feeling.” Nora’s voice grew tight with the old anger. “I wanted to smash his face with my fist. I wanted to take a golf club to his car. I wanted to do all of those things, but I was trembling too much to drive, so I started chugging wine to calm myself. When that was gone, I went for the bourbon. As for finding my husband, that was easy. I used the Find My Friends app on my phone, drove over to his lover’s house, and waltzed right in. Guess they’d been too excited to remember to lock it.”
Hester’s hand flew to her mouth. “Uh-oh.”
Nora forced herself to go on. “They were snuggled up together, making plans for the future, and I stood in the doorway with rage shooting out of me like lightning bolts. I’d carried in the golf club, but my husband grabbed it and yelled that his lover was pregnant. She was crying. And something inside me broke. Because I realized that I wanted a child. I’d wanted one for years. I’d foolishly assumed that a baby would happen in due time. A family. My husband would have both. Just not with me. The hurt was so engulfing that I couldn’t breathe. I ran out of the house, got in the car, and drove off.”
Nora stopped to gather her courage. Without looking at her friends, she opened the shoe-box lid. “I drove recklessly, like I wanted to die. And of course, I’d had too much to drink. I’d barely gotten on the highway when I lost control and struck a car traveling in the opposite lane. I don’t remember the impact. I only remember coming to and seeing the other car on fire.”
Nora removed a pair of charred sneakers from the box. They looked incredibly small in her palm. “The passengers in that car were a woman and her toddler boy. I pulled the mom out first because the fire was coming from the engine. She was unconscious. Carrying her must have taken its toll because I blacked out again.”
As if from a great distance, Nora heard one of her friends sniff. She knew someone was crying, but she couldn’t look up. Not yet. She had to get through this. “When I opened my eyes, I saw flames engulfing the car.” It was so hard to get the words out. Nora had to push each one from her throat. “I glanced at the mother and realized that the boy was still inside the burning car. God, it was so horrible when that sank in . . .”
Nora shook her head. She had to master her emotions in order to finish. “The flames were already chewing on the front seats when I flung open the back door and started fighting with the boy’s car-seat latches. I had no experience with those things. They were a total enigma to me. Like the hardest puzzle I’ve ever had to solve. The seat was on the passenger side so I pivoted my body to block the flames from reaching him. That’s why my right side is burned.” Nora briefly raised her scarred arm. “But I got him out. I started rescue breathing. I also called for help.”
Nora waited for someone to ask the obvious question.
Estella obliged. “Did they make it? The mother and son?”
“Yes,” Nora said. “The mom suffered minor burns from the airbag and lacerations. Her son’s injuries were more serious. He’d inhaled too much smoke and he had burns on his feet and lower legs. He was in the hospital for over a week. Luckily, children have an incredible capacity to heal, and this boy was no exception. There was a chance he might have minor scarring on his calves, but no one could say for sure. The boy’s father sent me his shoes to serve as a reminder of what I’d done.”
“That’s cruel.”
Nora looked at Hester and said, “No. It was necessary. And I’ve kept them ever since. The shoes and the secret. I almost killed that boy and his mother because my pain mastered me. I would have gone to jail if I hadn’t been so injured. As it stands, I have a record. I don’t have a driver’s license. I’ll never drive again.” Nora set the shoe box aside and reached for her coffee cup again. She knew the liquid would be tepid at best, but she needed to moisten her mouth. “I never saw my husband again. Or the house we shared for over a decade. I’ve never searched for him online, or anyone else, from my former life. In my mind, I died that New Year’s Eve. I’m still figuring out who I am now, but so far, I like this me better.”
Nora smiled at each of her friends and released a long, steady sigh. She was done.
Hester pointed at the bakery box. “Eat your scone.”
Nora was tired. Telling her secret had drained her. She wasn’t hungry, but she had the feeling that the comfort scone Hester had baked would help her recharge.
She was surprised that her scone appeared to be plain. It didn’t contain berries, nuts, or toffee chips. It hadn’t been drizzled with a special glaze or sprinkled with finishing sugar. However, when Nora picked it up, she could see that it had been cut in half and filled with a red berry jam.
Nora inhaled the buttery scent of the golden scone before taking a healthy bite out of the pastry. Immediately, her thoughts were flooded by a memory of her mother reading aloud from Nora’s favorite childhood book: Bread and Jam for Frances.
It was the earliest memory Nora had of falling in love with a story. Recalling it now filled her with such a pure joy that she felt like her veins no longer carried blood to parts of her body, but particles of nourishing light.
After she shared the memory with her friends, Nora locked the hidden compartment in the coffee table and put her finger on the keyhole. “This is no longer a place for my secret. However, if any member of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society needs to hide something away, you have a place. The rest of us will keep it safe.”
“I guess we should use these pretty keys as bookmarks in the meantime,” June said.
Nora watched Estella, June, and Hester glance at the surrounding bookshelves. A radiant grin spread over her face as she asked, “What should we read, my friends?”
* * *
A month later, the Secret, Book, and Scone Society met to wrap up their discussion of A Man Called Ove. However, there proved to be more urgent things to talk about, so Backman’s endearing novel was shelved until the next meeting.
“It’s awful!” Hester cried as she dropped into her chair. “The Madison Valley Community Bank has folded. All of the employees are out of work.”
“There’s more bad news,” Estella added gravely. “The bank could only insure up to a certain dollar amount, so anyone who entrusted them with more than that has lost their money.”
June grunted. “I hope those bastards we helped to indict choke on a chicken bone in prison. I know Dawson got a lighter sentence because no one could prove his involvement in the murders, but I can still imagine his life after his release. I like to picture him cleaning septic systems or public toilets.”
Nora nodded. “I like that visual too. And even though we’ll have to wait a little longer for Sheriff Toad, Collin Stone, and Vanessa MacCavity to be sentenced, at least we know they’ve been found guilty for conspiracy to commit murder and mortgage fraud.”
“Miracle Springs will need a new sheriff,” Estella said, and nudged Hester. “Is your boyfriend thinking about campaigning?”
Hester blushed. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve had one date. I’ve been crazy busy.” She glanced at Nora. “It’s the same for you, right?”
“Total insanity,” Nora said. “Some days, I can’t eat lunch. I sneak in nuts or raisins while running credit cards. It doesn’t surprise me that Miracle Springs has gained national attention. What surprises me is that the story isn’t dying. The media keeps digging up fresh dirt on the Pine Ridge partners and the Hendricks brothers.”
Estella flicked a lock of hair off her shoulder. “It’s the peak season on crack. I had to hire part-time help for the spa and I’m still turning people away. I like the extra money, but I’m wiped.”
“Me too,” June said. “Ever since my promotion to
manager I feel like a wrung-out mop.” She sank back into her chair. “At least we have jobs. We have an income. Unlike those poor souls from the bank. I wish we could help them.”
Hester kicked off her shoes and started to massage her right foot. Suddenly, she froze and stared into the middle distance.
“Hester?” Nora put a hand on her friend’s lower back. “Are you okay?”
“We can help!” Hester cried, startling Nora. “We can’t give people their jobs back. We can’t give them money. But we can lift their spirits. What if we made an anonymous delivery to each person in need of a boost? A paper bag filled with simple treats? I could put in a loaf of farmer’s bread, for example.”
June nodded enthusiastically. “I could add a pair of my aromatherapy socks.”
“I have lots of books about hope.” Nora gestured around the shop. “I could also add a tea tin or a bag of coffee.”
“And I could put together relaxation-themed baskets including a candle, hand lotion, and a loofah sponge,” Estella said. “Hester, I really like this idea.”
“Me too,” Nora agreed. “Now we just need to find the time to assemble and deliver these secret bags.”
June jerked her thumb toward the front of the bookshop. “I thought you were going to hang a HELP WANTED sign in the window.”
Nora turned to her with a frown. “I did. I put it up this afternoon.”
“It’s not there now.”
Still frowning, Nora told her friends to continue their anonymous brown-bag planning while she checked her display window.
As she wound her way around the bookshelves, she suddenly had the unsettling feeling that she was being watched.
Nora didn’t head directly for the front door, but moved behind the checkout counter. She curled her hand around the Louisville Slugger she kept tucked between the box of register tape and a case of paper used for wrapping fragile shelf enhancers.
