The article was so biased that Nora had to pause midway through to check the byline.
“Olga Gradiva?” she spluttered. “She’s one of them!”
The article’s final lines warned the citizens of Miracle Springs to be aware of which area businesses might weaken the traditional family structure or negatively influence impressionable youth.
“Why are these harpies targeting businesses run by women?” Nora turned to find Bea staring at her. “Red Bird Gifts, Soothe, and my bookshop. It’s just wrong.”
Nora was so angry that she was shaking. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. But she was surrounded by people who’d probably read the same article. Regular customers and potential customers. And because of that, she had to mask her fury.
Bea didn’t bother haggling. She simply named a fair price and took Nora’s money. When Nora reached out to take her purchases, Bea grabbed her arm.
“I liked you from the start, book lady.” Her voice was tobacco-rough, but her gaze was tender. “You’re like me and mine. We work hard, take care of our own, and treat others right. But every now and then, folks come along and make trouble for us. You need to do what we do. Stand tall. Keep walkin’ your walk. Don’t let them change you. That’s when they win.”
Nora squeezed Bea’s hand in silent gratitude.
Not every woman in Miracle Springs was out to get her. She needed to remember that.
As she worked her way toward the exit, Nora felt eyes on her. The ticklish sensation on her back reminded her of the feeling she’d had after first meeting Celeste. But Celeste wasn’t her enemy. She was being targeted by the Women of Lasting Values Society too.
How many members do they have? Nora wondered, glancing around.
Spotting one of the tellers from her bank chatting with the manager of the grocery store, Nora raised her hand in greeting. They both averted their gazes, making a poor show of pretending they hadn’t seen her.
Keep walkin’ your walk, Bea had said.
Nora didn’t try to make eye contact with anyone else. She just wanted to get out of the barn. Sweat beaded her forehead. The air was stifling. It felt too thick to breathe. There were too many people. There was too much noise. People talking. People laughing. People slurping drinks. Someone cracked gum near Nora’s ear. To her, it sounded like gunfire.
Up ahead, light streamed through the open doorway and Nora lurched toward it, her bag of treasures swinging like a pendulum from her right hand. She swung it higher and higher, forcing people to skitter out of her way.
And then, finally, she was outside. She breathed in lungful after lungful of fresh, mountain air and wiped her forehead with the back of her shirtsleeve. After stowing her purchases in her moped’s storage compartment, she pulled on her helmet and drove out of the lot. Behind her visor, Nora’s eyes were dark with anger.
When she got home, Jed and Henry Higgins were sitting on her deck. She knew, just by looking at Jed, that he’d seen the article.
“Do you still want to go on that hike?” he asked.
“Violence is never the answer, but if I don’t tire myself out and clear my head a little, I might do something stupid.”
Henry Higgins was pulling on his lead, so Jed set him free. When the Rhodesian ridgeback nudged Nora’s palm with his nose, she bent over and kissed the burnished red fur on the top of his head.
“I still think you’d be happier if you had a pet,” Jed said after Nora had changed and packed their lunch. They’d just entered the woods and it already felt like they were miles away from town.
Nora didn’t answer. She was silently responding to every line in Olga’s article.
“A little dog would be the perfect bookstore mascot. He could have a doggie bed under the checkout counter. Hester would make him special treats, June would knit him Hogwarts sweaters, Estella would keep his fur on trend, and Sheldon would be his dog whisperer.”
Jed prattled on until their local trail joined the Appalachian Trail. They’d hike the AT for several miles before veering onto another side trail to end up at Nora’s favorite lookout.
As they ascended hill after hill, they encountered a dozen fellow hikers. Most carried light packs or none at all. A few were clearly through-hikers continuing their southbound journey on the AT. These men and women in ragged clothes were covered with scratches and insect bites. They were dirty and thin. But their gait was proud and confident, and they smiled at Jed and Nora before warning them about the timber rattler around the next bend.