For Whom the Book Tolls

by Laura Gail Black

  “Uncle Paul chose you over her?” Good for him! Uncle Paul went up a notch in my estimation. Too bad this settee didn’t. It seemed the longer I sat here, the more uncomfortable it became. I shifted a bit, crossing my legs in the opposite direction.

  “Yes, and it wasn’t the first time she’d lost a man to another woman. It was only the most recent and the only time she lost one to me.”

  “Ohhhhhh.” Now I was getting the bigger picture. In Olivia’s mind, not only had Ophelia snagged a man out from under her, the ultimate sister betrayal, but it stomped all over past issues that had to still sting.

  Ophelia sighed. “The first time was when she was left at the altar by her fiancé on her wedding day. There she stood, all gussied up, her flowers perfect.” Ophelia’s eyes looked back in time. “She refused to leave until almost midnight. She couldn’t believe the man had actually dumped her. But it seems he’d found himself another woman. A Dear John letter waited for her at home.”

  “How awful.” I hoped I sounded truly sympathetic, but I couldn’t seem to picture any man wanting to marry the harsh and demanding Olivia.

  “Yes, it was terrible for a while,” agreed Ophelia. “She stayed in her room for three weeks. She refused to eat or get out of bed. I made all of her favorite foods and brought them to her on a beautiful tray, and she threw them at me. My sister screamed and yelled at anyone who came into the room. It was a nightmare. Not only had she been stood up, but the whole town knew about it.”

  “Then what happened?” This sounded more like the Olivia I had met.

  “Our father had finally had enough. He went in and had a long talk with her. I never knew exactly what he said, but after that things got better.”

  “In what way?”

  “She finally decided men weren’t worth her trouble. She announced she was never going to let a man hurt her again and she would never marry. She devoted her time to keeping the house running, and after Mama died, she stayed on to keep house for Daddy.” Ophelia heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head. “It’s a shame too. Livie was such a pretty girl, and sweet to boot. It’s too bad she let circumstances change her.”

  Sweet? Olivia? My eyebrows shot up with a will of their own, and I reached up to scratch my forehead to cover it. I hoped. But who would’ve guessed Olivia could be anything but brusque, at best? I could see why nobody would want to go out with Olivia as she was now, all bitter and angry, but they might have if she’d been nicer before. “You mean nobody else ever asked to marry her? Nobody ever tried to woo her into changing her mind?”

  “She never let anyone get close enough to her to want to ask,” came the simple answer. “If any man ever sent flowers or asked her out, Livie cut him off at the pockets. She refused gifts, hung up on phone calls, even slammed the door in one man’s face. In short, she was incredibly rude to some very nice guys. It didn’t take long for the flowers and phone calls to stop once word got around about her bad attitude.”

  “So, when she decided to go after Uncle Paul, it was a major step for her.”

  “Yes, it was.” Olivia nodded. “It was the first time in”—she paused, counting her fingertips with her thumb—“forty-four years that she’d decided a man was worth her time. And in the two and a half years since Paul rejected her, she’s become more bitter and angry at men than ever before.”

  “What about you, Miss Hokes? Did you never get the chance to marry?” At this point, I was genuinely curious. I knew she still had her maiden name, but surely someone as sweet as she was had received offers.

  “Call me Phillie. All my friends do. Miss Hokes reminds me I’m an old maid, and Ophelia sounds stuffy.” She giggled.

  “Okay, Phillie.” I grinned back at her, shifting on the settee once more, wishing it was as comfortable as it was pretty.

  “Now, to answer your question, no, I never found the right man to marry either, because Livie was determined to keep me from it.” She stood, walked to the front counter, and leaned over its high edge to place Olivia’s book beside the cash register.

  “What do you mean?” My eyebrows shot up again as I followed her, my backside grateful for the reprieve. I could see Olivia running off her own boyfriends, but why Phillie’s?

  “Since Livie decided to hate men, she wanted me, her dear little sister, to hate them as well. Twice I almost married, but both times she ruined it for me.” She sighed resignedly, as if she’d come to accept her lot in life but still wished things had been different.

  “How?” I hated to pry too much, but the woman seemed to want to talk about her past, and for several reasons, I was genuinely interested in hearing her story. Once again I shoved my mother’s admonishments about how a lady would never pry out of my mind. But then, I’d done a lot of things my mother wouldn’t approve of in the last few months. Why stop now?

  She turned and leaned back against the counter. “The first time, I was nineteen and had gotten engaged to a wonderful man named Robert Kelly. He was funny and gorgeous. He was also somewhat of a gambler, and unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at his chosen hobby. One night he lost over fifty thousand dollars and came to Daddy to ask for a loan. Daddy refused. Livie apparently overheard the conversation. She had money from investments, since Daddy had given her the money he’d saved for her honeymoon. She offered to pay Robert’s gambling debts if he’d never see me again. He was about to lose his house and his car, so what choice did he have? As a result, I lost a fiancé, and Livie had one more reason to hate weak men.” Phillie shrugged. “Even if it was probably for the best, it still hurt.”

  At least she’d found out what a jerk the guy was before she married him. I knew from experience that, even though it hurt, it was always better to have dodged the bullet of marrying the wrong guy. “What about the second time?”

  “Oh yes, the second time.” Phillie straightened and walked around the counter, finally picking up a teacup. “There was another man who was also funny and gorgeous … isn’t it amusing how we remember them all as ‘funny and gorgeous’?” She chuckled.

  “Yep.” I only wished my last memory of a “funny and gorgeous” man wasn’t so close to a nightmare.

  Phillie pulled me back from my darker thoughts. “Would you like some tea?” She held up another cup.

  I shook my head, glad for the momentary distraction. “No thank you. I’ve had my daily caffeine intake already. Tell me about this second funny and gorgeous guy.”

  She poured tea into her cup and held it to her lips to blow softly on the hot liquid. “This guy seemed more interested in my father’s business than in me. He wanted to inherit what he thought would be a fortune. Livie convinced him Daddy was leaving the company to her, since she was the older sister, and I would have money in a trust he wouldn’t be able to touch. He dumped me for her, and she promptly kicked him to the curb.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t imagine being humiliated in such a manner by a sister, of all people. But then, I’d never had a sister, so who was I to say?

  “It hurt for a while, but I realized it would’ve been terrible, since the man obviously didn’t love me at all. I was glad I found out before I actually married him. It would’ve been awful being married to someone who only saw me as a way to increase his net worth.”

  “Did you never want to marry after that?”

  “Oh, I wanted to, all right. But I figured, after ruining two possible matches for me, Livie wouldn’t give anyone else a chance either. So I gave up.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I know that’s not a very courageous thing to do, but Livie and I have had a good life together. It hasn’t been so bad.”

  I leaned in and rested my forearms on the counter. “Until Uncle Paul.” I could now see the strong appeal my uncle had held for Phillie. He was the kind of man the guys from her past hadn’t been: sweet, loving, attentive, and above all, genuine.

  Phillie nodded stiffly. “Yes. Until your Uncle Paul. Livie thought I was paying her back for ruining my chances to marry by stealing Paul out from
under her. Rather than let me be happy, she set out to ruin that one too.”

  My ears perked up. Now we were getting somewhere. “What did she do to ruin your relationship with Uncle Paul?”

  “When she realized she couldn’t make Paul want to spend time with her, she insisted he shouldn’t spend time with me either.” Phillie paused and wrinkled her brow. “I think she didn’t want to be alone at her age. I can understand, but I wish …” Her eyes misted over.

  Not wanting her to fall too deeply into her grief over a past that never got to happen, I gently changed the direction of—if I was being honest with myself—what had now become a subtle interrogation. “How did she manage to separate the two of you?”

  Phillie sniffed and pulled a tissue from the box behind the tall counter to blot her eyes. “She kept after him and kept after him. She tried acting sweet and submissive and tender in a last-ditch effort.”

  “I’ll bet Uncle Paul saw through that one.” The man I was growing to know so much better through the women who cared for him wouldn’t have been that gullible.

  “He did. And when it didn’t work, she tried to bribe him. Then she threatened him. She was snotty to him in every way.”

  “And Paul finally had a bellyful and stopped seeing you?” I was surprised he’d given up so easily.

  “Oh no. Paul would’ve put up with her if I’d wanted him to. But she hadn’t been kind to me either. She’d threatened to throw me out of our home, even though it’s half mine. She threatened to toss me out of this business, even though this is half mine too. She told me Paul had buried one wife and asked if I wanted to be the next. She reminded me over and over of how the men in my life had always let me down. She screamed and yelled and pitched fits at everything I said or did. I finally had enough. I told Paul he deserved better. He said we could manage in spite of her and actually asked me to marry him.” Phillie choked up and pulled another tissue from the box behind the counter.

  Wow. What a witch. I shook my head. I was almost glad I didn’t have a sister at this point. “Why didn’t you marry him? It would have moved you away from your sister.”

  “Not really. I wouldn’t have lived in the same house with her, but I would still have owned part of this business. I love this store and didn’t want to give it up. And Paul’s store and apartment are right next door. Even if I’d quit working here and sold my half to Livie, we would’ve seen her every day. Paul deserved better. He deserved a wife without so much baggage.”

  “So you broke it off with him?” Phillie was stronger than I’d given her credit for, and it made me like her even more.

  “Yes, and he said he understood. I know it hurt him, but he was very much a gentleman about the whole thing. He even said if I ever changed my mind to come and see him. The offer would stand.” Phillie dabbed at her eyes with the tissue.

  “That’s so sweet.” I sighed. It was almost like reading a romance novel … except for the murder at the end.

  “Yes, it was. Paul was an incredibly sweet man. I wish Livie could’ve seen that.”

  We stood in silence for a few moments, lost in our own thoughts: Phillie perhaps thinking of happy memories with Uncle Paul, me thinking how hard it must have been for her to work next door to and watch the man she deeply loved, knowing she could never have him for herself.

  After a minute, Phillie reached over and patted my hand. “We stayed friends, though, and snuck off for lunch together once a week, and sometimes I would make excuses to come in to the shop early so I could go up and have morning coffee with him. He talked about you and the things you told him in your emails.” She paused, and her brow furrowed. “He also told me about your troubles. He never stopped believing in you.”

  I looked for censure in her eyes, any flicker that said she thought I had been guilty. There was none. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, dear. Anything.”

  “If your sister hated him, hated the thought of you two together so badly, might she have done something to make sure you never changed your mind and accepted his proposal?” I had kept my voice soft and reassuring, hoping she wouldn’t draw back.

  I watched as an array of emotions played across Phillie’s face, and she once again dabbed at her eyes with the tissue and ducked her head.

  She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “To be honest”—she took a deep breath—“I’ve wondered the same thing.” She looked up into my eyes. “But I don’t see it. I can’t picture Livie resorting to physical violence.”

  I considered the woman I’d discovered pounding on my windows the day before, although that wasn’t the same as murdering someone. “You did say she threw things around when she was angry at being dumped. Has she been violent otherwise?”

  Phillie shook her head. “Not in the least. She’d never hurt anything or anyone physically. Her weapons are words. Yes, she resented Paul. No, she didn’t want me to marry him. Yes, I fully believe she would have followed through on trying to make Paul and me miserable if we had married against her objections. But she simply does not have it in her to do anything worse than be verbally mean and cutting and abusive.”

  “I hope you’re not upset that I asked.” I really did like the older woman, and something in me wanted to protect her.

  She reached out and patted my hand again. “I know you want answers, that you want to find out what happened to Paul. So do I. But I promise, Livie isn’t the answer.” She shrugged. “I heard Frank Sutter thinks you had motive. Honestly, I can’t believe that idiot considered you as a suspect in Paul’s death. He always was a moron, even when he was a little boy. How he got that high up in a job that requires critical thinking is beyond me.”

  I couldn’t contain the grin. Maybe Rita was right and the people here wouldn’t judge me based on that stupid news story. “Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  Phillie returned my grin. “It’s nothing, dear. I knew you through Paul’s stories, and if he believed in you, I can do no less.” She straightened and pursed her lips. “Now, I’ve taken up enough of your time. You’ve been sweet to listen to me drag up old memories, but you’ve got a bookstore to get cleaned up and reopened.”

  As if I needed to be reminded about the mess next door. I sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’d better get everlastingly at it.”

  “You’ll do fine. And if you need anything, give us a ring. That’s what neighbors are for.” Phillie walked with me to the door.

  As I walked back to my own store, I thought about her offer. Would Livie be as willing to help out her newest neighbor? Or would she transfer the extreme grudge she’d had against Uncle Paul over to me?

  Chapter Fifteen

  I wondered if Linus Talbot would be on the job at the library on a Saturday. Hoping for the best, I pulled the letter from the envelope and called the number in the signature line as soon as I got back to the bookstore. Thrilled when the receptionist said he was there, I waited, not quite patiently, listening to poorly written Muzak while she connected me to his extension.

  “Linus Talbot here,” came a clipped but cultured voice after a few moments.

  “Mr. Talbot, my name is Jenna Quinn. I’m Paul Baxter’s niece. I inherited Baxter’s Book Emporium after his recent death.”

  “We heard about your uncle. I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Quinn.” Mr. Talbot’s voice warmed up a bit. “Paul was indeed a unique individual and will be greatly missed in the antique book world. Is there anything specific I can help you with?” His compassionate tones made me more comfortable asking questions.

  “Yes, there is.” I smoothed the creases from the letter. “You wrote to Uncle Paul about a book he’d recently brought to you for authentication. Can you tell me about it?” I crossed my fingers, hoping he’d actually be able to fill in a few gaps. Somebody had to have some answers, and I would keep asking questions until I found out who.

  “I don’t know much.” He spoke slowly, as if searching his memory for the answer. “I was only
allowed to look at one page. It was handwritten and in very good shape. Paul wanted to know if it was written in the early to mid-1930s. I do believe I confirmed that for him.”

  “Were you not able to tell him that at the time he brought you the book?” I settled onto the stool behind the counter.

  “Yes, I was, but Paul wanted it in writing. I told him I would get to it as soon as I could. I think it was a week later when I finally found time to write and send the letter for him.”

  “Had Uncle Paul ever kept you from looking through a book for full authentication before?” I already knew the answer, but it never hurt to ask.

  “No. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t. I wondered about that myself.”

  Now came the big question. “Can you think of any reason why he would?”

  “No. I tried to figure that one out too. Whatever it was, Paul obviously wanted to keep its contents secret. He said one day soon he’d bring it back for full authentication. Sadly, that day didn’t come.”

  Oh, come on. He had to know something. “Did he tell you who wrote it?”

  “No, I’m afraid he didn’t. When I asked the author’s name, he stated he’d rather not say. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, but your uncle simply didn’t give me any more information about the book in question. Is there anything else I can do to help you, Miss Quinn?”

  I didn’t want to take up too much of his time and make him unwilling to help me if I needed him later. “No, there isn’t. And thank you again. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.” I slumped, only then realizing I’d been leaning forward in anticipation.

  After he hung up, I resisted the temptation to bang the phone on the counter in frustration. All I’d learned was that Uncle Paul had kept an old book a secret. No answers. Only more questions.