When she stormed into the ticket agent’s office, Sheldon put his hands on his hips and asked, “Where’s the fire?”
Nora dropped the casserole dish on the counter and said, “Guess what? The Women of Lasting Values Society will be staging a peaceful and public protest on our sidewalk tomorrow. We need to brew an antidote for their poison. Fast.”
“Peacefully and publicly?”
Glancing out the ticket agent’s window, Nora remembered Bobbie referring to Miracle Books as a corner of heaven. Dozens of people had used similar terms to describe the bookshop. They called it a sanctuary. A refuge. A haven.
Nora’s anger faded and she smiled. “Tomorrow, my friend, we shall peacefully and publicly delight, inspire, and amaze anyone who comes to our corner of heaven.”
“Why are you so calm?” Sheldon demanded. Pacing around in small circles, he was anything but calm. “The lynch mob has formed. The pitchforks have been sharpened. Aren’t you terrified of losing this fight?”
Encompassing the shop in a sweeping gesture, Nora said, “No. And you shouldn’t be, either. Look around. We have books as our champions. We’ve already won.”
Chapter 13
Books and doors are the same thing. You open them, and you go through into another world.
—Jeanette Winterson
“You don’t need to help,” Nora told Sheldon. “I can’t live without you this weekend, so you should go home and rest. But before you do, could you make a dollar store run?”
Sheldon started untying his apron. “It’s a fabulous plan, but how will you pull it off in time?”
“I just need the tables we always use for sidewalk displays and a few sets of show-stopping doors between the tables. It’ll only be possible because I don’t have to build the doors. Remember that huge box we got last week? The one the publisher shipped by mistake?”
“The one you wouldn’t let me open?”
Nora grinned. “Yep. It’s full of life-sized cardboard cutouts of English phone booths, and the publisher doesn’t want them back. I’ve been meaning to recycle them, but I never got around to it.”
“Doctor Who would be delighted by your use of telephone boxes and your pacifistic attitude. It’s not easy to act like Mary Poppins when dealing with Daleks.”
“Don’t congratulate me yet,” warned Nora. “Just thinking about those women waving signs and shouting ugly things about books and our shop makes my blood boil. They can say what they want about me. But bashing books? Scaring off potential readers? How can anyone believe that chasing people away from a bookstore is a good thing? It’s the opposite.”
“That’s how I feel too,” said a voice.
Nora turned around to see Vicky Knapp looking through the ticket agent’s window.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she said. “We got out of school early—there’s a gas leak—so I came to read. But I can help you, Ms. Nora. With the doors. I’ve worked on lots of play sets. At church and school.”
“That’s really sweet, Vicky, but you can’t get mixed up in this,” said Nora.
Vicky didn’t move. “Some of my favorite books have doors leading to other worlds. They’re supposed to be a bad influence because they’re fantasies. Because they have magic. But they’re also about friendship and courage. They make me believe that one person can change the world. Hobbits, a boy named Harry Potter, a girl named Lucy—I traveled with them, and I want to go through a million more doors. I never want to stop. So please let me help.”
“You know how your mom feels about me,” Nora said gently. “It’s one thing for you to read here. Helping me prepare for your mom’s protest is another. I appreciate the offer. I do. And I love your passion for books. I hope that never changes.”
“How about a hot chocolate?” Sheldon asked Vicky. “With triple marshmallows?”
After a long moment, Vicky said, “Sure.”
Sheldon made Vicky’s drink and then headed out to buy supplies. When he returned, he was accompanied by the two blondes who often hung out with Vicky in the YA section. Both teenagers carried jugs of acrylic paint.
“These lovely ladies would like to earn community service hours by working on your literary art project,” Sheldon explained. “Vicky sent them a text, and they flanked me in the craft aisle like a pair of hyenas on the prowl.”
“Steph did some sketches.” The girl named Sidney, who went by Sid, thrust a notebook into Nora’s hands. “She’s an amazing artist. And I love to paint. We have nothing to do for the rest of the day, and we’re, like, huge fans of the store. But you probably knew that.”