“It’s my lucky day.”
June smiled. “Mine too. I spent the trolley ride telling these lovely people about my aromatherapy socks and how I’m using all the profits I make from them to pay for my son’s rehab. When we stopped at Red Bird Gifts, these fine folks did not let me down. They snapped up half of Marie’s inventory. Good thing I’m an insomniac. I can knit a new pair by sunrise.”
Nora jerked her thumb at a bookshelf. “How about putting that seductive salesmanship to work for me?”
June’s golden-brown eyes twinkled. “I’ve already talked up our North Carolina authors to some Kentucky folks, so I’ll lead them to that bookshelf. You should talk to that gentleman with the cane. He came to Miracle Springs for the healing waters, but his troubles go way beyond his bad hip. He needs some book therapy.”
Nora wandered over to the man in question and said, “I like your cane. I’ve never seen one with a carved alligator for a handle.”
The man grinned, and the network of wrinkles marking his face deepened. “I got it in Florida, when my Vera and I were on our honeymoon. I never thought I’d use it. I thought I’d stick it in the umbrella stand and remember what a good time we had.” He shrugged. “When you’re young, you don’t think about hip replacements or slipped discs. You dream about your nice car and your nice house. You dream about the kids you’re gonna have and how they’ll look up to you. It all goes by so fast, and suddenly, you’re an old man who needs a cane.”
“I have a cane too,” Nora said. “I could show it to you if you have the time.”
“To paraphrase George Carlin, I spend most of my time reading the Bible. I need to cram for my final exam!”
The man laughed, but the laugh turned into a cough. When he could breathe again, he leaned hard on his cane, massaging his hip and shaking his head in frustration. Nora recognized the gesture. The man felt betrayed by his body. His bones, skin, and tissue had aged faster than his mind. When he looked in the mirror, the face that stared back at him seemed to belong to another man.
“The good thing about being an old man with a cane is that you have lots of stories to tell,” Nora said in a soft voice. “I’m Nora. I’d love to sit with you for a little while.”
The man smiled. “My name’s Herschel, and that’s the best offer I’ve had in days.”
After settling Herschel in June’s favorite purple chair, Nora told him to look over the menu while she fetched her cane from the stockroom. As she walked away, she heard him reading the choices out loud in the rich baritone of a disc jockey or voice actor.
“Ernest Hemingway—Dark Roast
Louisa May Alcott—Light Roast
Dante Alighieri—Decaf
Wilkie Collins—Cappuccino
Jack London—Latte
Agatha ChrisTEA—Earl Grey
Harry Potter—Hot Chocolate with Magic Marshmallows
Shel Silverstein—Nutella on Toast
Assorted Book Pocket Pastries”
“Anything sound good?” she asked when she returned.
“A Wilkie Collins, please.”
Nora made his drink along with a Jack London for another customer. She also served two book pockets before returning to the readers’ circle.
While Herschel sipped his cappuccino, Nora showed him her walking stick. “I never go on a hike without it. It’s good for swatting spiderwebs and scaring off snakes.”
“I see a fox on the shaft.” Herschel squinted over the rim of his cup. “And a butterfly. And trees. What’s at the top?”
“A river. The design was inspired by a book called The Little Prince. Do you know it?”
Herschel looked pensive. “I remember a little boy and a flower. Not much else.”
“There are words carved into the shaft, hidden in the trees.” Nora pointed out a few of the words. “Together, they form a partial quote from the novel. The whole quote reads, ‘And now here is my secret. A simple secret: it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’”
Nora waited for Herschel to reply. He said nothing, but his eyes filled with tears.
“Are you okay?” she whispered, offering him a napkin.
He turned away. “Forgive me. It’s my Vera. She’s back at the lodge, having a spa day. I’m a husband left to his own devices. Which means I have no idea what to do with myself.” He tried to smile but couldn’t. “This is probably our last trip because Vera’s losing her sight. It’s been happening gradually, so we’ve been trying to prepare. We moved to a ground-floor condo. Sold her car. Organized her clothes and the kitchen with special labels and sticky letters made of foam. Velcro is going to be a lifesaver.”