Book Lover, The (7 page)

“Well, I rang up four books so far,” Kate said, coming up behind her.

“Better than zero.”

“We’ve got a little time left, and the rain is over, so let’s think positive, okay?”

She nodded, then spent the next minutes walking circles around the signing table, straightening shelves, looking at her watch and waiting for David to walk in. With a big bouquet of flowers and a face that begged forgiveness for being late. To buy a copy of her book, as he’d promised, and have her sign it. And finally read it.

Kate was considerate enough not to bring up David’s absence as she locked up. Lucy gave her a quick hug in thanks.

“Good luck with the third store. And I’m sorry to abandon you at such an inconvenient time.”

“I knew when I hired you it wasn’t going to be forever. Besides, aren’t we doing the same thing? Going after our dreams? I’m really glad you’re doing this.”

“So am I,” Lucy said, and then managed a laugh. “I think.”

“Don’t do this halfway. You’ve got to give it everything, promise?”

“I will. I keep thinking of that woman tonight, Laura, who loved the book. And Ruth, the bookseller in New York. If they like it, how many other readers would fall in love with it, if only they had a chance to read it?”

“Atta girl!”

Then they turned and walked in opposite directions to where their cars were parked. A moment later, she stopped in front of the guitarist. He wasn’t a kid, probably late thirties or even forty, and she saw a handsome face beneath the beard and the long, straggled hair. He began another slow, beautiful song.

“You’re an amazing musician,” she said, tossing the pile of bills from her book sales into his hat. He looked up at her and smiled. And she wondered, was this how David saw her?

It was nearly dark, wispy gray clouds skittering across the sky as she got in her car. She sat there a moment, then hit the steering wheel in frustration. She pulled out her cell and called the house. No answer. Then she called David’s cell, which was turned off. Driving out of the lot she made a right, not toward home, but to David’s office. How could he not have shown up, knowing how important this was to her? This wasn’t like David. But she had to admit, so much about him lately wasn’t like the David she knew.

Turning onto Cuna Street, she saw the white Victorian up ahead. His office, which was the entire first floor, was all lit up. She was so intent on David, she didn’t notice at first the line of cars parked on both sides of the street in front of the building. As she slowed, she recognized a St. Augustine Police Department Cruiser with the lights off. A black sedan with lettering on the door was from the St. John’s County Detective Bureau. She sat there in the middle of the street, her eyes travelling from the dark, empty cars to the long windows of David’s office, where the shadows of men passed back and forth.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. All she could think of was that eerie voice on David’s voicemail. The soft laughter, the chilling words.

You’re a dead man, Barrett.

                            
5

R
UTH PARKED IN THE MUNICIPAL LOT, and clipped on Sam’s leash, and she could swear that Sam was smiling, her tongue hanging sideways out of her mouth. Sam loved spending the day with Ruth at the store.

First they walked up Main Street to Elaine’s. Ruth was amazed she didn’t even need a sweater today. For early May it felt more like June, and she hoped it would last. It wasn’t unusual to get a frost in Warwick this far into spring. But the flowering pear trees lining the sidewalks in town were a stunning vision of white blossoms. The window boxes at Elaine’s were bursting with yellow daffodils and purple pansies.

“Morning, Ruth,” Elaine called over the counter as she came in with Sam.

Elaine had left a corporate job seven years ago to open the small restaurant. With leather booths and a long counter with round stools, it had the charm and character of a much-loved, and used, diner.

“You on for the meeting next week?” Elaine asked, as she turned for the coffee pot.

“Sure am. I just hope we get something accomplished this time.”

The Downtown Warwick Revitalization Committee had been formed six months ago, but little progress had been made since, except for the longer hours to compete with the malls. Which didn’t seem to be doing much.

Elaine handed Ruth a large coffee, then looked over her shoulder to make sure Hannah wasn’t in earshot. “We just have to keep Eddie from blowin’ steam for two hours and maybe we can. I know his appliance business is hurting from that box store opening, but hey, we’re all hurting, aren’t we?”

“I can’t argue with you.”

Then Elaine noticed Sam sitting patiently, her tail thumping the floor in anticipation. She knelt down and gave her a biscuit and a pat on the head.

“What’s on your agenda today?” Elaine asked, as Sam savored her treat.

“Oh, the usual. Getting ready for an author signing next week. Then Megan’s going to show me some ideas she has for My Face. Or is it Spacebook?”

Elaine laughed. “It’s Facebook and My Space.”

“I know. She thinks I’m an old fart. She’s always got ideas and according to her I’m always shooting them down. We’re a bookseller, you know? I don’t want things to get too complicated. Anyway,” she said, “hopefully this heavenly day will bring people into town for a nice lunch and a good book.”

“My idea of heaven is a good book and a chair parked at the beach.”

“Amen. Only when was the last time either of us took time for something like that?”

“I thought just doing breakfast and lunch would give me a bit of a life after the corporate rat race. By the time we get cleaned up and prepped for the next day, guess what?”

“You’re ready for bed. Sounds like my life.”

Sam licked the last few crumbs off the floor, then looked up at Ruth, waiting.

“Ever think of retiring?” Elaine asked with raised eyebrows.

“Are you kidding? For what?”

As Ruth turned, Hannah came by carrying a tray loaded with pancakes. “Oh, hey Ruth,” she called out, “I was just thinking about you. Can you wait a sec?”

Ruth sipped her coffee as Hannah delivered her platters, then deposited her empty tray on the counter. “Whew, my knees are screaming. Listen, I was going to stop by later and see if you might have some time this week to come over. I’ve got my class reunion coming up, and I wondered if you’d give me your opinion on an outfit I got.”

“Sure, how about Monday?”

“Okay. It’s a little different, a bit more daring, actually, than what I normally wear, but I thought Eddie might like it. I want to surprise him.”

“That’s great,” she said, wondering if Deepak had instigated the bold wardrobe choice.

“Oh, I finished the Chopra book,” Hannah said, as if reading her mind. “I did like it, but not all of it…” Her words trailed off as a customer began waving at her.

“I’ll call you Monday. We’ll talk about it then.”

Ruth walked up Main Street to her store, shaking her head. How was it she was always giving advice, to Hannah and so many of her customers, when she had no certainty at all regarding herself.

She unlocked the door, walked inside and flipped on the lights. Sam nestled into her doggie bed under the counter for a little snooze. Ruth checked the phone for messages, and found three, for special orders. There were also two hang-ups. Ruth listened to them again, trying to discern background noise as butterflies swooped through her stomach. It was five weeks since she’d gone to the prison and Thomas wasn’t there. Not a night went by that she didn’t wonder what had happened to him.

Just then, the lights in the store went out. Ruth groaned. Was it Hazel, their ghost? Or the circuit breaker again? She walked back to the bathroom/storage room, and Sam got up and followed her. Opening the electrical panel, she saw the main breaker had tripped. She flipped it once and the lights flickered on, then went out again. She flipped the switch once more, the lights came on, and she stood there waiting. They stayed on. But this situation wasn’t good. And it was the third time this month.

Her landlord, Jeff, knew about the problem but had yet to send an electrician over, hoping that if he waited long enough she’d just take care of it herself, as she usually did. But then there would be the battle when she deducted it from his ridiculous rent. The phone began to ring and though she wasn’t open yet, she ran to the front counter, grabbing it on the fifth ring.

“Good morning, this is The Book Lover. How may I help you?”

“Ruth?”

Her breath stopped.

“Ruth? It’s Thomas.”

Her hand went to her throat. It was so odd, actually hearing his voice on the phone.

“Thomas. I…I heard you’d called.”

She could hear him let out a long breath. As if he’d been holding it until she spoke.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call back. You know how it is here.” And then he gave a rueful little chuckle.

“Oh yes, I understand,” she said, with what she hoped was a light tone, as well.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the book meeting.”

“I was worried.”

“Things…” he paused, and again she could hear him pull in a long breath. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

“Of course. I’ve got all the time you need, we haven’t even opened yet.”

“No, not on the phone. I need to see you. Can you come here? I’ve got scheduled visiting hours Monday.”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say.

“Ruth, I’d like to speak with you in private.”

She hesitated again. Going to the prison to sell books was one thing. Fantasizing about an inmate as if he were a character was another. But going to visit him, one on one? What would her children think?

“All right, I’ll come.”

She hung up, staring out the front window across Main Street in a daze. What could he possibly have to tell her? Perhaps he would no longer be her book liaison. That would be awful. Or perhaps it was something more personal. She couldn’t help thinking of how their hands had nearly touched the last time she saw him. Even now that memory ignited a thrill of anticipation, which was quickly dispelled by a rap on the door. Megan peered through the glass.

Get a grip, Ruthie,
she cautioned herself as she went to unlock the door.
It’s not like you’re going on a date.

* * *

“THIS FECKIN’ COMPUTER IS SLOWER THAN MOLASSES,” Megan hissed later that morning as she sat with Ruth, showing her the Facebook page she had created for the store. “No way you can manage a new computer?”

Ruth shook her head.

Ever since her trip to Ireland last year, Megan was into Irish slang, peppering conversations with it whenever possible. Feck wasn’t as bad as fuck, Ruth knew, but still, it was essentially the same thing. She said nothing now. Megan was right about the old desktop, though.

“What about on a payment plan, you know, a little each month. Or maybe, leasing?”

“I’ll think about it.” No matter how much Megan understood about the bookselling business, there were some things Ruth preferred to keep to herself. She didn’t bother reminding Megan about the hours she’d cut last month.

Finally the page loaded, a picture of the outside of The Book Lover prominently displayed, and under it the store’s goal:
To be your destination bookstore. Find your favorite read, or experience the joys of a “hand sold” book, one personally recommended to suit your tastes by booksellers who actually read.

“Maybe you should take out the word ‘actually’ Megan. It sounds a bit, oh, insulting?”

“Whatever,” Megan said quickly.

“Well, I think it looks nice, and hopefully we’ll get something out of it. Now I’m going over to Shades & Shapes in a little while. Do you mind? It’s been slow, and I’ll run Sam home when I leave.” After talking to Thomas, she’d called Dee at the salon, who told her to come in today.

“Really?”
Megan asked dramatically, her eyebrows raised.

“Don’t start,” Ruth laughed. “Nothing radical, just a trim.” And, she thought, maybe something to cover the gray. “Anyway, I’ve got all the new boxes placed near the shelves for stacking, if you could get that done. The ad for the Gazette is right here on the counter.”

“Oh, that’s right, Lucinda Barrett,” Megan said. “I started her book. It’s brilliant.”

Brilliant was another word Megan had added freely to her repertoire since Ireland, the Irish equivalent of her generation’s “amazing.”

The bell over the door tinkled just then and Ruth turned to see Bertha Piakowski coming in with a large brown paper bag in her hand. Each month, Bertha came in for the latest canine mystery, always carrying a generous bag filled with her homemade pierogies.

“Oh Bertha, you lifesaver,” Ruth said. For the past half hour her stomach had felt as if it were gnawing itself in hunger.

“You know I can’t resist those, Bertha.” Megan was on a special macrobiotic diet lately, and Ruth was pretty sure the ingredients of Bertha’s pierogies were not on it.

“Oh, live a little,” Bertha chastised Megan.

Ruth grabbed Bertha’s special order from the shelf as Megan tore open the bag.

“A Pregnant Paws,
” Bertha read aloud when Ruth handed her the book. “Is it a good one?”

“Kris says it’s her favorite of all the canine mysteries.”

Ruth bit into a pierogi and moaned in pleasure. They were crispy on the outside, with a glaze of butter, and the inside a soft explosion of potatoes and cheese. “Talk about comfort food. You could probably open a chain of pierogi shops and get rich.”

Bertha laughed then held up the new book. “I spent my whole life cooking for a mob. I just want to read now.”

As they savored her pierogies, Bertha paged through the novel.

“Okay,” Bertha said, laying it back on the counter, satisfied. “Now, when you ladies are full, I need your help. Two books for birthday presents. And then, I have a baby shower next week and they’re doing a wishing well where you bring in your favorite children’s book. Isn’t that a clever idea?”

Megan locked eyes with Ruth. “That
is
brilliant,” she said. “We’ll have to mention it in the newsletter. It hasn’t gone out yet. And…” Ruth could see the wheels turning in her brain, “we should probably hang a poster about it back in the children’s section, to give people the idea.”

“It is brilliant,” Ruth admitted.

Bertha smiled. “Don’t you ladies just love your job?”

“We sure don’t do it for the big bucks,” Ruth said, and they all laughed.

“Ruth, I’ll help Bertha, you’ve got to go,” Megan said. “Your hair? Remember?”

“Oh, you’re right.”

She grabbed her purse and clipped on Sam’s leash. As she walked out the door, she heard Megan call out, “Be brave, Ruth.”

* * *

DEE WAS RUNNING LATE. Ruth couldn’t complain, since Dee had squeezed her in. But after waiting half an hour, paging through books of ridiculous styles, she wondered what she was really doing there. Why should it matter how she looked when she went to see Thomas? Just as she was getting up to head back to the store, Dee called over to her.