“Hello, neighbor. Am I in your way?”
Nora wanted to rip the can of cream of mushroom soup from Connie’s hand, pop it open, and pour it over her head. Instead, she moved so close to her that she could smell Connie’s floral perfume and see the constellation of freckles on her neck.
“Spare me your Mr. Rogers act,” Nora whispered. “What you said in Olga’s article wasn’t very neighborly.”
Connie touched her pearl necklace as if it were a talisman. “This is America, and I’m entitled to my opinion. It’s my God-given right to say what I believe, in print or otherwise. We told you what we thought of your window. We were direct and honest. We gave you a chance, but you ignored us. That wasn’t smart.”
Nora was too tired to control her anger. “Do you know what belief my display defends? My customers’ God-given right to read the books they choose to read. You weren’t able to bully me, so you organized a smear campaign against me and two other business owners. Three hardworking women trying to earn a comfortable living. Why are we such a threat to you?”
“I think I made that point crystal clear,” Connie replied. “Your businesses are a bad influence on our youth, especially our girls. Lots of people agree with me.”
“So what comes next?” Nora asked. “The article came first. After that, the vandalism. Is this what a pastor’s wife does for fun? Destroys the livelihoods of her neighbors and draws devils on shop signs?” She grabbed a can of split pea soup and dropped it in Connie’s cart, crushing a loaf of bread. “Why not start a soup kitchen? Or collect coats for the homeless? You could do so much good with your influence. But you want more, don’t you? You want a following. You want to be a leader. A woman of power. Do you see the irony here?”
Nora’s blow hit its mark, and Connie’s lips twitched.
“You’re not making a lick of sense,” she snapped. “This conversation is over. I have a family to get home to. If you had one of those, you might understand why I do what I do.”
Just then, an elderly woman in a burgundy dress pushed her cart over to where they stood.
“Wasn’t the choir especially good today?” she asked Connie.
Connie agreed that it was, and the woman smiled and shuffled off.
After retrieving the can of split pea soup and returning it to the shelf, Connie looked at Nora and said, “‘So you will get what you deserve.’ That’s from Proverbs.”
“‘Who are you to judge your neighbor?’ That’s from the Book of James.” Nora walked around Connie’s cart and plucked cans of chicken noodle and beef barley soup off the shelf. “I’m no satanist. I’m a book lover. Like most books, the Bible is full of wisdom. And like most books, you have to read it with an open mind and an open heart. If you’re having trouble doing that, you should come see me. I could recommend some wonderful devotionals.”
This was true. Over the years, Nora had gathered a list of titles for customers struggling with their faith. In her experience, people of all faiths and creeds faced times of doubt.
Connie’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t step foot in your shop until it has a new owner.”
And with that, she pushed past Nora and turned the corner.
Back at the deli counter, Nora had to pick another number. Hers was called ten minutes ago and, when no one responded, it had been skipped.
Nora finished ordering roasted turkey and provolone cheese seconds before a hammering noise came from the store’s ceiling.
“What is that?” asked a woman waiting for sliced honey ham.
Just then, a clap of thunder sounded.
The deli clerk raised his eyes to the heavens and said, “The angels are crying, and the devil is dancing. We’re in for a heck of a storm.”
*
The Gingerbread House was typically closed on Mondays, so Nora was surprised when Hester sent a text telling her to pick up her book pockets.
“My customers will be thrilled,” Nora said when Hester held open the back door to the bakery. “But what are you doing here?”
“Making muffins. Celeste is opening Soothe today.”
Nora followed Hester into the kitchen. Trays of muffins sat on cooling racks, and the room smelled like coffee, melted chocolate, and cinnamon.
“Are you hungry? I have a few mistakes here.” Hester pointed at several muffins with uneven domes. “There’s pumpkin cream cheese swirl, apple crumble, or chocolate espresso.”
“I never say no to chocolate in the morning. Or in the evening. Or at noon.” Nora unwrapped the warm muffin and took a bite. The sweetness of the chocolate was offset by the subtle bitterness of ground espresso. Hester had added dried cherries to the mix, and that hint of tartness boosted the rest of the flavors. “Wow, Hester. These will sell out in an hour. How did you make this happen?”