“True,” said Nora. “But in our defense, September is all about back-to-school. I’ve talked to a few of the moms about their schedules, and it stressed me out just listening to them. They’re driving kids here and there, working all kinds of hours, hitting the gym, stocking the fridge, prepping meals, balancing the books, and keeping everyone in their house happy. I’ve been shoving copies of Mrs. Everything into their hands and wishing I could afford to give away a spa voucher with every purchase.”
Sheldon held up a finger. “Hey, now. You might be onto something with this. Today’s women are women of power. Gifted, talented, and driven women. Magical women. Why not fill the window with women like that?”
“I’m picturing the Hocus Pocus witches around a cauldron,” Nora said in a dreamy voice. “The cauldron’s rimmed with salt because the witches are brewing margaritas. It’s their ghouls’ night out. Get it?”
“The UV rays must be getting to her,” Sheldon mumbled to himself. “Witches? Sure. It’s Halloween, after all. But not the hags with hairy warts and pointy hats. Beautiful witches. Multi-generational. Culturally diverse. What if they brew books in their cauldron? Stories about powerful females?”
Nora was instantly caught up by the idea. “Yes! We could display book covers featuring powerful women. Lady Macbeth. Medusa.”
“Elphaba, Alina Starkov, Matilda.”
“Medea.” Nora could see books flying out of the cauldron. Books with cardboard wings and paper bodies. Colorful, glossy, magical books.
“Don’t forget Hermione Granger,” Sheldon added. “We can’t have a power coven without her.”
The two friends became more and more animated as they discussed materials, lighting, and other design elements.
Suddenly, Nora noticed the time.
“We’d better get ready to open. Even though it feels like the first circle of Dante’s Inferno outside, people will still want coffee.”
“That’s because it’s my coffee,” Sheldon said. “I’ll get my elixir going and pull some titles. We’ll have a window’s worth of fierce females by lunchtime.”
Sheldon opened the front door to the noisy jangle of vintage sleigh bells. They hung from a hook on the back of the door, signaling the arrival or departure of customers—a useful alarm in a rabbit warren of a bookshop.
Useful or not, Sheldon hated them. “One of these days, I’m going to stuff those bells with bubble gum. Or plaster of paris.”
Nora was about to reply when a woman’s scream pierced the morning air.
The scream had come from up the street. Somewhere close.
It was just past nine on a muggy Tuesday, and downtown Miracle Springs was quiet. Kids were in school. Working professionals were in their air-conditioned offices. The shops on Main Street were either already open or preparing to open at ten. There was light foot traffic on the sidewalks and across the street in the park, but it didn’t look like anyone else had heard the scream.
Nora believed the sound had come from the town’s newest business. The insurance agency that used to occupy the space had relocated to a newer office building with ample parking, and Nora expected someone to grab the prime retail space right away. After it sat empty for months, she learned that the lease was for the entire building, including the storefront and the two-bedroom apartment above it.
But all that was about to change. Two days ago, Nora had been walking back to the bookshop from the Gingerbread House when she’d noticed a purple awning over the entrance to the former insurance agency. A young man was on a ladder, wiping fingerprints from the dark purple letters he’d just applied to the front door. The letters spelled SOOTHE.
Soothe was a block and a half away, and the scream had come from that direction. Nora didn’t hesitate. She took off running.
Nora ran until she came up behind a woman who was hunched over a large object on the sidewalk. The woman had a slim frame, long, gray hair mottled with brown, and freckled skin. She passed her hands over the object and let out a soft moan.
Nora took a few more steps and the source of the woman’s distress was revealed. It was a life-sized sculpture of a robed figure.
Squatting next to the woman, Nora looked her up and down. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said without taking her eyes off the sculpture. “I shouldn’t have screamed like that. She’s broken. But it’s okay. Broken things are still beautiful.”
Nora glanced at the pair of workmen standing under the purple awning.