“Like what?”
Shaking his head, Sheldon grabbed his lunchbox and headed for the door. “I am not delivering that message. No way. You’ll just have to call him back.” He paused to add, “From somewhere private.”
Even though Sheldon’s cryptic behavior put her on edge, Nora called Celeste first. She’d already missed half of her voluntary shift by that point, but Celeste told her not to worry.
“It’s been a slow day,” she said. “I know slow isn’t profitable, but it was nice to talk to people without being rushed. Those customers made me feel like what I’m doing is worthwhile.”
“It is,” Nora said, pushing aside thoughts of Lazarus Harper. “Listen, Celeste, I’m sure you’re tired at the end of the day, but my friends and I would really like to visit with you on Thursday evening. It’d be me, Hester, Estella, and June. We’ll just bring some food and sit and talk for a bit. What do you say?”
The pause on the other end of the line felt interminable. Finally, Nora heard a faint sniffle. Then Celeste whispered, “Okay.”
“Okay. Take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nora was thrilled that Celeste had agreed to dinner, but her delight didn’t last long. As she walked to the front of the shop to call Jed, her anxiety returned full force.
When Jed didn’t pick up, she left a message saying that she was sorry she missed his call and that she’d definitely answer the phone the next time he tried to reach her.
What was Jed going to ask her? Did he want her to take care of Henry Higgins? Nora didn’t know how she’d manage a dog on top of everything else, but she’d find a way.
“It can’t be that,” she muttered as she washed the last mug. “Sheldon would have told me.”
The sleigh bells clanged, and seconds later, two boys raced past the ticket agent’s booth on their way to the children’s corner. Their mother, an avid reader and loyal customer, wasn’t far behind.
“Hey, Nora.” After taking a moment to catch her breath, she said, “I’d love a Louisa May Alcott for me, a book on Christopher Columbus for Max, and a book on life cycles for Davis. Progress reports go home next Friday, which means projects for everyone. Due Monday. Fun, fun!”
Other mothers and children arrived with similar requests, and the afternoon passed in a blur as Nora handed children books on sea voyages, shipbuilding, explorers, ecosystems, and weather patterns. She also rang up lots of Scottish romance novels.
“I wonder how Bill would look in a kilt,” one woman said to another as they headed for the door. “I could give it to him for Christmas.”
“Where would he wear it?” asked her friend.
The first woman put her hands over her daughter’s ears and said, “Where do you think? The bedroom!”
Her friend’s reply was lost in the clamor of the sleigh bells, but Nora took pleasure in the smiles on the women’s faces and the bags of books dangling from their hands.
The midafternoon rush never ebbed, and before Nora knew it, the workday was over. She’d just finished straightening the shelves and was preparing to lock the front door and turn off the light over the checkout counter when her phone rang. It was Jed.
“You’ve been on my mind all day,” Nora said. “How are you?”
“Horrible. Mom’s in a coma.” He drew in a watery breath. “I’m really scared, Nora.”
Nora heard the pain in Jed’s voice and wished she could ease it for him. Her heart twisted in sympathy, and she pressed the phone closer to her cheek as if she were pressing his body closer to hers. “I’m so sorry, Jed. Can I do anything to help?”
“I need you. Here. Now.” This came out in a raw whisper, as if Jed didn’t have the strength for more. “I don’t want to go through this alone. I’m so tired. I need you to come and be with me.”
His request floored Nora. She’d expected him to ask her to take care of his dog, not borrow someone’s car and drive across the state to join him at his mother’s bedside. There was no way she could do that. She couldn’t abandon Celeste. She couldn’t leave while Connie Knapp and the Women of Lasting Values were targeting Miracle Books. And the Highland Games crowd would be heading to Miracle Springs in a few days. It was impossible.
“Jed . . .”
She didn’t need to say more. The refusal was in her apologetic tone.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She was sorry. Sorry that she couldn’t be with him. Sorry that she had to let him down. Sorry that she’d hurt him when he was already hurting.