The higher Nora climbed, the harder her legs and lungs worked. The exertion felt good, but eventually, she had to take off her sweatshirt and tie it around her waist. Underneath, she was wearing her HAPPIER THAN A KID AT A BOOK FAIR T-shirt, which was one of Jed’s favorites. She touched the soft fabric and decided to call him when she was back in cell phone range.
What about McCabe? a niggling voice asked. Don’t you want to compare notes on Pine Hollow? See if you found anything he didn’t?
The idea was ridiculous. McCabe could run a background check on Cecily Leopold. He could call whatever law enforcement agency had jurisdiction over Still Waters and ask for a complete lowdown. He and his team probably gathered more information in ten minutes than Nora had in two hours.
Which leaves me where?
She and her friends could continue to help Celeste. They could bake muffins, cook meals, and work at Soothe. But these things wouldn’t make Celeste feel safe or comforted. She’d still go upstairs after work and stay in her apartment until morning. And while a social worker was checking in, and McCabe was keeping tabs on Celeste’s whereabouts, they couldn’t ease her loneliness or dispel her fears. She needed friends. Female friends. A group of women to fill her sad, silent home with noise, food, and cheer.
“The Secret, Book, and Scone Society needs to make a house call,” Nora declared as she reached the bottom of the trail.
At home, she showered, brewed a cup of cinnamon tea, and called Jed. When he didn’t answer, she left a message saying that she missed him and that she hoped his mother was on the mend. She hesitated for a moment before telling him that she and her friends were helping a local woman who’d just lost her daughter. Then, to lighten the mood, she added, “In other news, I have a nemesis. I’m like a comic book character. I might even need a costume. Maybe a jumpsuit and Chuck Taylors. Anyway, I don’t think my bookish superpowers will have any effect on this woman.”
Having rambled long enough, Nora asked Jed to get back to her and hung up.
At the bookshop, she vacuumed floors and dusted shelves. She kept expecting Jed to call and give her an excuse to stop cleaning, but he didn’t.
“Look at you, all bright-eyed and bushy-browed,” Sheldon said upon his arrival.
Nora put her fingers to her face. “Is it bad? Like Count Olaf bad?”
Sheldon took a Maleficent mug down from the pegboard. “It’s just one white hair. Ignore me. You know I’m like the Muppet in the trash can until I have my coffee.”
“A white hair?”
Nora dug a compact out of her bag and examined her brows. She saw the offensive hair immediately, nestled in the middle of her left brow. And then, she spotted a second white hair.
“Jesus. I aged overnight.”
Once he had the coffee brewing, Sheldon cleaned a pair of tweezers, pushed Nora into a chair, and deftly plucked her “white whiskers.”
A few minutes later he handed Nora a steaming cup of coffee. “I shouldn’t poke fun at you with all that you’re going through. Do you want to vent? I promise to be nice.”
Six months ago, Nora would have said no. But talking to Sheldon always made her feel better. He was an excellent listener. He sat very still and never interrupted. His gaze was soft and sympathetic. And he was completely trustworthy.
“I think I do,” Nora said.
Sheldon settled deeper into his chair and waited for her to begin.
“I’ve been putting on a show—acting like this thing with Connie doesn’t scare me, but it does. Remember the last time Miracle Books was vandalized? Between the insurance claims and the police report, I felt like a victim. I never wanted to feel like that again.” Nora sipped her coffee. “Connie isn’t going to let this go. She made that perfectly clear. I wish I could prepare for whatever she plans to throw at me next, but I can’t. There might be a much bigger, scarier beast in town than Connie Knapp.”
After summarizing everything she’d found online last night, Nora fell silent. She cradled her mug and gave Sheldon time to process the glut of information.
He spent several moments gazing into the middle distance. Finally, he looked at Nora and said, “If this Harper guy is creeping around Miracle Springs because he’s mad at Celeste, what can you do about it? I thought you trusted McCabe and Company? Don’t you think they’re capable of handling the problem?”
Nora said, “I trust McCabe, but Celeste doesn’t. She won’t tell him what he needs to know. Why not? Her daughter’s dead. Why wouldn’t Celeste do everything in her power to find out what happened? Is she afraid that McCabe will find out about Lazarus Harper? Or something worse?” She put her coffee cup down with a forceful thud. “Celeste accused Bren of keeping secrets, and now, she’s doing the same thing. How can McCabe protect her without knowing who her enemies are?”