McCabe laughed. “Cats obeying orders. That’s funny. Those guys were dreaming. Okay, that’s my book. Now I need one for my sister. Family’s everything to her.”
“Tea and decaf orders are up!” Nora cheerfully shouted. Normally, she’d refer to the drinks by the names listed on the menu board, but today called for shortcuts. She needed to help the sheriff and take up her position behind the checkout counter before the rest of her customers wanted to pay for beverages, books, or other goodies.
“Is this my Agatha ChrisTEA?” asked a pretty young mom in a floral tank top and skinny jeans. When Nora said that it was, the woman moved closer to the pass-through window and said, “I want to put a comment in your suggestion box. Would you consider offering a snack during the story hour? A little treat to encourage good behavior? Like goldfish or fruit chews? It’s so much easier for kids to sit still if they have something to chew on. Nothing sugary, of course. And organic is always best. What do you think?”
Because the woman had always been friendly and polite, Nora didn’t instantly shoot her down. Instead, she promised to consider her request.
When the mom was out of earshot, McCabe said, “That was very reasonable of you.”
“Not really. I just considered it, and the answer is no. I’m trying to foster a love of reading. If I start giving out free food, I might as well call it Children’s Snack Hour.” She sighed. “That mom’s right about the chewing thing, though. If it isn’t nailed down, these kids will put it in their mouths.”
“Speaking of which, that cherub in the overalls is treating Are You My Mother? like it was corn on the cob.”
They both watched the child gnaw on the PD Eastman board book.
“I guess we’re buying a book today!” declared the kid’s father.
The other adults laughed, but Nora smiled in relief. At least the corn on the cob kid’s dad had integrity. Some parents would stick the book back on the shelf and walk away, telling themselves that they shouldn’t have to pay for the destruction of saleable inventory when their child was too young to know better.
“Let’s go to the Home section,” Nora told the sheriff. “If we’re lucky, we can find a gift for your sister and get you out of here before the tantrums start.”
McCabe glanced around in alarm. “Is that likely?”
“Oh, it’s a given. If one toddler cries, they all cry. It’s an emotional domino effect. Anything can set them off. Mom refusing to buy them a book. Dad telling them not to bite. Grandma wiping their nose with a scratchy tissue. Seeing a bug. Misplacing a lovey. A bad night’s sleep. You name it. We have a dozen ticking time bombs in here.”
McCabe put his hand on the small of Nora’s back and propelled her forward. “Let’s find a gift, stat. Here’s what you need to know about my sister, Missy. She loves family, animals, cooking, the state of Texas, baseball, and HGTV. I’m sure whatever you pick will be great.”
In the Home section, Nora showed McCabe several books based on HGTV shows. His responses were lukewarm until she pulled out Magnolia Table: A Collection of Recipes for Gathering.
“That’s the one.” He tapped the cover. “That woman and her husband fix up houses. I only know that because Missy loves their show.”
“But this book came out a few years ago. There’s a chance your sister already has it.”
McCabe shook his head. “I doubt it. She never buys things for herself, and my brother-in-law usually gets her jewelry or framed photos of the family. The kids make her coupon books, which she loves. This is the right book for her. I know it.”
“Colby, no!” a woman scolded.
A second later, a child began to cry.
“Time to move.” Nora gave the sheriff a little push.
“Are you assaulting an officer?” he asked, power walking to the front of the store. Opening his wallet, he pulled out two twenties. And when another child began to cry, McCabe practically threw the money at Nora.
“Does this look like a strip club to you?” Nora joked, enjoying the look of panic on the sheriff’s face. As she wrapped the cookbook in white paper, a third child added to the cacophony. Nora handed McCabe his purchases and whispered, “Take me with you.”
He smiled and reached up to tip the hat he wasn’t wearing. “When I get back, we’ll have lunch. I’ll tell you all about Texas, and you can tell me what I missed here. Deal?”
“Deal.”
When McCabe left, Nora felt inexplicably glum. She couldn’t understand why. She and the sheriff only got together once a month. They’d grab lunch and spend a pleasant hour talking about books, movies, and life in general. Other than that, Nora might bump into McCabe around town. It’s not as if they were dating. Nora was involved with Jedediah Craig, a charismatic paramedic who could have moonlighted as a romance cover model.