Jed’s mother was also a burn victim, but her injuries had been more severe. Jed paid for her care and made frequent trips to the coast to visit her. Just the other night, he told Nora that he’d miss next weekend’s Farm to Table Fest because he’d be out of town.
Is that why I’m down? Because both Jed and Grant will be gone?
Nora didn’t think so. She’d never needed a man’s company to be happy and was perfectly content to hang out with her friends or spend time alone.
Maybe she had a case of saudade, a term she recently came across in a novel. According to the novel’s Portuguese character, saudade was a feeling of absence or incompleteness—a yearning for something unknown.
Nora believed that everyone experienced this longing from time to time. Customers often needed a pick-me-up during periods of transition. When the seasons changed, a major holiday came and went, or a big celebration like a milestone birthday or wedding was over, people often yearned for something new to look forward to.
“I want my mommy!” one of the toddlers wailed back in the children’s section.
Am I jealous of McCabe’s vacation?
Visiting a goat farm wasn’t on Nora’s bucket list, but she’d sell a kidney to spend a week at a seaside cottage. She could read in a hammock and sip iced tea. The ocean breeze would cool her skin and the waves curling onshore would wash away her worries. And when the sun set, she’d read by starlight while feasting on potato chips and chocolate bars. It was a lovely fantasy.
If the store wasn’t full of crying kids, Nora wouldn’t be brooding. She’d rearrange shelf enhancers—the vintage knickknacks she picked up from area flea markets and garage sales—or create new endcap displays. Nora could never hold on to a bad mood when she was surrounded by books, but she couldn’t enjoy their company until the storytime crowd was gone.
In the children’s section, the crying had morphed into high-pitched keening.
Nora was fighting with the childproof top on her Advil bottle when the corn-on-the-cob kid’s dad showed up at the checkout counter, carrying his child in his arms. The little boy clutched Are You My Mother? in a death grip.
Nora pointed at the drool-stained book. “Don’t worry, Dad. I can scan the barcode without moving it an inch. This and a coffee, right?”
“Yep,” the dad said. “My third. It’s going to be a four-cup kind of day.”
The rest of the grown-up/toddler pairs made their way to the front of the store. Nora scanned books and ran credit cards as fast as she could. Children cried, adults cooed, the sleigh bells clanged, and the register beeped. And then, suddenly, everyone was gone.
In the silence that followed, Nora wondered why she’d ever thought a children’s story hour would be charming and fun. She’d been a librarian in a past life. She knew that no book-related events were predictable.
“You own a bookstore. It’s your duty to foster readers in your community,” she mumbled as she cleaned up scraps of paper, used tissues, and, to her annoyance, crushed Goldfish crackers.
After Nora vacuumed the floor and washed mugs, she glanced at the wall clock. The trolley from the lodge, the sprawling, five-star resort catering to the more affluent Miracle Springs visitors, should arrive any minute now. As a rule, lodge guests liked to shop, and Nora perked up at the thought of loading bags with books and shelf enhancers.
With lively bluegrass music playing in the background, Nora started to arrange a table display designed to appeal to the festival attendees heading to the Balloon Fest, the Craft Beer Fest, or the Mountain Bike Fest.
“Balloons, beer, and bikes? I’m picturing Pennywise getting a DUI at the X Games.”
Nora turned to see her friend June Dixon, manager of the lodge’s thermal pools and a member of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society, flipping through a book on mountain biking.
“No man should have such skinny hips. Men are always saying that they like a little junk in the trunk, but ladies like something to hold on to too.”
“I thought you were done with men,” said Nora.
June put a hand on her hip. “Just because I’ll never have another serious relationship with a man doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop having opinions about them.”
A group of unfamiliar people streamed into the bookshop. “Did you ride the trolley down with the lodge guests?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re looking at their shopping guide.” June struck a pose. She wasn’t wearing her work uniform, but a pale yellow sundress that beautifully complemented her coffee-colored skin. “The pools are closed today. The filtration system’s gone haywire and the regular guide had a doctor’s appointment, so here I am.”