When Nora acquired the moped, it was canary yellow with pink floral decals. The color scheme didn’t suit her personality one bit, but Nora wasn’t going to spend her limited funds on a paint job. As a surprise, Jed and Nora’s friends paid an auto detailer to transform the moped from an eyesore into a work of art. It now featured rows of colorful book spines.
Drivers would often roll down their car windows and shout, “I loved The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo!” or “Pride and Prejudice is my favorite book!”
Nora would flip up her visor, smile, and say, “In that case, I have the perfect book waiting for you at my shop. Come see me.”
And eventually, the person would.
Nora’s moped was a billboard on wheels. When she parked in front of the big, red barn where the flea market was held, every shopper could see the graffiti-style text painted under the seat. They’d read, NEXT STOP: MIRACLE BOOKS, and make a mental note to drop by the bookstore the next time they had a few moments to themselves.
On Sundays, the barn was especially crowded, and Nora maneuvered around any dawdlers, heading straight for Bea’s booth. Bea had a large family, and all of her siblings, nieces, and nephews dealt in vintage goods. Because of this, Nora hoped Bea had fresh merchandise for sale.
Bea was wrapping a tin Halloween noisemaker in newspaper when Nora approached the booth. The customer buying the noisemaker was also trying to make a choice between a retro black cat or a skeleton ornament.
“Get both,” Bea suggested. “Things are always better in pairs. PB&J. Batman and Robin. Han Solo and Chewbacca.”
The woman grinned. “Now I’m thinking about Harrison Ford. Nice sales technique you’ve got there. Okay, I’ll take them both.”
While Bea wrapped the ornaments, Nora examined an art glass pumpkin paperweight for imperfections. Finding none, she cradled it in her palm as she continued to survey Bea’s wares.
“I set some things aside for you.” Bea reached under a table and pulled out a cardboard box containing two items. The first was a repoussé pillbox with harvest decorations. The second was a white pottery water pitcher with autumn leaves dancing around the rim. Several sheets of crumpled paper indicated that there’d been more than two items in that box at one point.
“These are great. Is there anything else?” Nora asked.
Bea shook her head. “I put the rest of it out. You’re usually here and gone by now.”
“Yeah, I’m running late today.”
“Is it because of that?” Bea jerked a thumb at the folded newspaper next to her cash box.
Nora cocked her head. “Sorry?”
“The article on page four.” At Nora’s blank look, Bea stared at her in surprise. “No one told you?”
Nora felt a prick of dread. “My phone’s been turned off. Can I see?”
“Oh, Lord.” Bea handed Nora the paper and moved to the far end of her booth to wrap the water pitcher.
Nora turned to page four and scanned headlines until the bold letters on the bottom third of the page jumped out at her.
LOCAL GROUP WARNS: BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU SHOP
The article opened with the line, “A special interest group, the Women of Lasting Values Society, is asking Miracle Springs consumers to take a closer look at area businesses. According to the group’s founder, Connie Knapp, being local and independently owned doesn’t guarantee that a business is worthy of our hard-earned dollars.”
“Oh, no,” Nora whispered. She knew where this was going but kept reading anyway. It was like being a passenger in a car on a collision course. There was no avoiding the crash, so Nora braced herself for impact and read on.
The article seemed to be a series of quotes given by Connie and some other group members. The women came across as concerned citizens and devoted mothers. They didn’t call out a single business by name.
Instead, they asked leading questions like, “Is a window display that includes symbols of witchcraft celebrating female empowerment or satanism? And can our impressionable children tell the difference?” or “Is CBD truly harmless, or is it the first step toward substance abuse? Would you buy medicine for a sick family member from a licensed practitioner or from a gift shop?”
A few members went on the defensive. A quote from Bethann suggested that Red Bird Gallery and Gifts had a notable lack of faith-based items for sale. Again, she didn’t mention the shop by name, but it was the only place in town that sold items made by the Cherokee. “I would never buy a dream catcher or a carved animal mask as a Christmas gift or wedding present. I want to spend money on items that reflect my family’s values instead of things that have no place in my belief system.”