“Can do, babe. Right after I check out the inventory.” He started down the aisle toward the back room.
I gestured to Mason, and we both made it down the side aisles and to the back-room entrance before Norman. We stood with our arms crossed, blocking his way.
“Mr. Childers, if and when you bring me proof you have any right to see the back room of my business, then you will be allowed access to my inventory. Until then, I really think you should leave before I call the police.” I leveled a glare at him, determined he wouldn’t see the way my hands shook.
Norman turned to Mason. “Can’t you talk some sense into your boss? She needs to learn some manners.”
Mason met Norman’s glare with a glare of his own, his spine held stiff and his arms still crossed. “I believe she asked you to leave. Do I need to help you to the door, or do you think you can remember the way?”
Way to go, Mason! Maybe I needed to give this kid a raise.
Norman’s jaw tightened, and he pointed his finger into Mason’s face. “Look, boy, for now you and my cousin can have it your way. But you’ll be hearing from my lawyer before the day is out. And when you do, you’d better watch your back.” He turned and stomped out into the street, treating the door as roughly as he had upon entering.
Mason and I stared at each other in shocked silence, not even moving from where we still guarded the back room.
“What was that all about?” Mason asked finally, his eyes wide.
“I have no clue.” Stunned, I looked toward the door, almost afraid the obnoxious man might storm back inside. “I never heard Uncle Paul talk about a son. Did you?”
“Not even a hint. But then, I didn’t know Paul for long before …” Mason left his history with Paul unstated.
“I guess for now the best thing to do is call Mr. Grimes.” I skipped past Mason’s reference to the theft he’d committed in the past and stalked toward the front counter. “He’ll get to the bottom of this.”
After setting up an appointment through the lawyer’s secretary, I turned back to Mason. “I’ll be back soon. Keep the doors locked and try to get some more done on these stacks of books piled everywhere.”
Mason squared his shoulders, a look of determination on his face. “You got it, boss. You won’t recognize this place when you get back.”
I gently laid a hand on his arm. “I do trust you, Mason. I wouldn’t leave you here alone if I didn’t.”
“Yeah, okay. I just don’t want anything to mess it up this time.” He ducked his head. “Hokes Folly is home. I want to move back, but I can’t unless I prove I’m worth hiring.”
On impulse, I gave him a quick hug. Okay, so I was the crazy chick who hugged veritable strangers. “Somehow we’ll work this out, okay? For now, I have to go, but you do a great job and I’ll put in a good word with every business in town.”
I walked out the door to the tune of his happy whistling.
* * *
My time with the lawyer proved the legal system should go back to simpler times when “Finders keepers, losers weepers” had been a hard-and-fast rule. Mr. Grimes confirmed he had indeed received papers from a law firm in Raleigh regarding the newly found, long-lost heir. I had inherited only because Uncle Paul had no children “either by birth or adoption” to whom to leave his estate.
The attorney admitted he hadn’t had a chance to completely go through Norman Childers’s papers, but according to the letter accompanying them, Uncle Paul had had an affair with Norman’s mother roughly five years after he and Aunt Irene were married. I found this hard to accept, but until proof could be located to negate the claims, Mr. Grimes advised cooperation.
So, here we sat, back door to the alley open, waiting to let the man into Uncle Paul’s store and home, or rather my store and home now. His tardiness irritated me to no end.
First, the man’s claim was based on Uncle Paul being unfaithful to Aunt Irene. I simply couldn’t swallow that.
Second, the man had made me miss good working hours, and since I wanted to keep Mason out of his sights, I’d let my new employee go home early for the day.
Third, he wanted to take away something that, in a very short time, had come to mean a great deal to me. Aside from the fact that without it I would have no way to support myself, it was mine, and he had no right to try to take it. And he wouldn’t succeed. Not without a fight on his hands. I was done walking away without a fight.
Fourth, he was a downright jerk. Even his presence conjured up childhood memories of playground bullies, and I’d had enough of bullies in my recent past to last a lifetime.
Fifth …
My ranting mental list ended as a sleek, red Corvette pulled into the alleyway behind the store. As Norman Childers got out of his car, I took a few deep breaths then calmly stepped to the doorway and greeted him with as much civility as I could muster.
“Hey, Cousin, nice place.” His voice reeked of sarcasm.
“Yes, it is.” I took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten.
“Shall we proceed?” Mr. Grimes stepped between us and ushered Norman inside.
“Sure thing. I want to see if the back room is as much of a dump as the storefront.” Norman’s nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something distasteful. “But this would make a nice site for a Starbucks, don’t you think?” He pointedly looked around the attorney to make eye contact with me.
I gritted my teeth, swallowing the ugly retort that leapt to mind.
Horace Grimes again inserted himself. “The downtown historic district has rules on what can and cannot be placed here. Should you be confirmed as heir, we will discuss what is possible.”
“And if you managed to get around that rule, there is no way the municipal association would let you build something so out of place here.” I clutched my hands tightly behind my back to keep from shoving Norman’s back out into the alley and slamming the door.
“There are ways around those little problems. Money solves everything. You only have to know whose palm to grease.” He grinned and winked at me as he stepped past me.
During his first visit to the store, he’d blown through the place like a whirlwind, never stopping long enough to touch or even notice anything. Today was vastly different. Today he demonstrated an incredible lack of respect for the property. Repeatedly I had to request that he not destroy books by pulling at their bindings or tugging on the pages. He knocked on the walls, looked in the refrigerator drawers, and even stood on a chair to look above the ceiling tiles.
After we moved into the front room, he began pulling books off the shelves, creating more mess for me to clean up. Behind the counter, he looked in every nook and cranny, and he even pulled out the coffee supplies in the cabinets under the coffee station.
Norman’s gaze settled on the spiral stairs that wound their way upward. “So this is where the old man bought it, huh?” His eyes skimmed over to the bottom of the stairs, but his voice wasn’t as grieving as I thought it ought to be for a man who had lost a father, even if he hadn’t known him personally.
“Yes. He fell down the stairs. I found him the next morning.” I thought about Uncle Paul lying there alone for hours, no matter that he was dead. What had really happened before I arrived?
Norman interrupted my thoughts. “Well, his loss is our gain.” He winked at me and grinned. “Well, mine anyway. But you’re cute, and we’re family, so I may let you stay on as a barista.”
I mentally counted to ten, again stifling the urge to throw him out. I glanced at Horace, who had remained silent, catching his worried look and the shake of his head, as if he knew what was going on in my head.
Eager to get the ordeal over, I suggested we move upstairs for a brief look.
Norman’s eyes sparkled in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “I thought we’d never get to this part.” He turned and bounded up, and I heard his grunt of frustration when he rattled the doorknob but couldn’t turn it.
“Do I really have to do t
his?” I spoke softly over my shoulder to Horace as we ascended the stairs.
“Legally, no. However, it’s best to accommodate him so you don’t seem like you’re hiding anything.”
The strained tone in Horace’s voice let me know I wasn’t the only one freaked out about Norman and his behavior.
As we moved through the apartment, I tried to ignore Norman’s rudeness. He commented negatively on each piece of furniture—“God, this is outdated”—each painting—“Could anyone have worse taste than this?”—each work of art—“That’s just got to go … to the dump.” Did he ever shut up? He was even worse than Barbie had been.
He then went through every kitchen cabinet and the pantry, pulled at the drapes, lifted the couch cushions, and thumped on the dining, coffee, and end tables, as if to test their solidity.
As we finished the tour of the main area of the apartment, Norman stomped toward the bedrooms. Apparently catching my startled look, Horace managed to get to Uncle Paul’s doorway before I could, successfully blocking Norman’s way.
“Outa my way.” Norman unsuccessfully attempted to sidestep Horace. “I want to see the rest of the place. If that’s the old man’s bedroom, isn’t that where he would have kept anything valuable?” Norman looked over Horace’s shoulder, letting his eyes roam greedily around Uncle Paul’s bedroom.
“What sort of valuables did you have in mind?” I tried but was unable to keep the irritable snip from my voice. “I haven’t had time to catalog anything in Uncle Paul’s room yet, but I’m sure he may still have a few costume pieces that belonged to my aunt.”
“Not that kind of cheap junk.” Norman slid sideways, trying to push past Horace into the room. “I mean really valuable items.”
Thank God for Horace, who shifted his own weight and stood solidly in Norman’s way. He might not be saying much, but his presence was comforting, and I was thrilled I wasn’t facing this alone.
“What type of things, Mr. Childers?” I gritted my teeth to keep from yelling. If I wasn’t careful, I’d wear down my teeth to bare roots before this was all over.
“Oh, I don’t know, objects of valuable art, really rare books, that sort of thing.” He crossed his arms, glaring at Horace. Seeming to give up on Uncle Paul’s room, he now looked down the apartment toward my room.
Oh no, you don’t! I skittered across the space, arriving in time to block Norman from my own doorway. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Childers, I would appreciate it if you don’t disturb my things.” My gaze met his in a stare down. He blinked first, and I inwardly pumped my fist in victory. On the outside, however, I kept my face straight.
“They won’t be your things for long, now will they, Cousin?” He smirked and winked at me, reaching out to run a few strands of my hair through his fingers. “But if you play your cards right, you might get to keep living here with me.”
I smacked his hand away from my face but stood my ground. Now I understood how someone might be driven to murder. That thought sobered me, and I struggled to regain my inner composure. “I’m sure the disposition of my uncle’s estate would be best handled by our attorneys. Now, if you’re ready to go?” I gestured toward the front door.
“Not until I see the rest of the rooms here, babe.” Norman crossed his arms and glared into my eyes.
I could stand no more of the man for one day. “Mr. Childers, I must decline.” I was determined to stand firm on this one. “You see, I have made my home, although a possibly temporary one, in this apartment. Under no circumstances will I let you inside either bedroom to create the mess you’ve left me to straighten up here or downstairs in the store. Here I draw the line.” I stared daggers at him, my back straight and my fists clenched at my sides.
Norman turned to the attorney. “Can she do that? Can she keep me out?”
Horace’s head bobbed in a staccato nod. “Yes, as her home is there now, without a court order, you cannot force her to show you the premises. Frankly, as there has not yet been a court mandate, she let you in here only out of a spirit of cooperation.” The attorney’s tight voice and clenched jaw spoke volumes of his opinion of Norman Childers.
“I guess I can wait a few more days to see those. The papers should have cleared everything up with you lawyers by then.” He turned to leave but called over his shoulder as he headed for the door, “Remember, anything, and I mean anything, you find must stay with the estate when I gain control. There will be no pilfering or stealing from Norman Childers.”
How dare he? As if I would ever think of taking something that didn’t belong to me. Wait a minute—who was the one trying to steal what didn’t belong to him? And why? Norman obviously had no interest in the apartment, the business, or the town. He was, from all appearances, not in need of money. Massive lessons in manners, yes. But not money.
Norman Childers was looking for something else. My mind flashed to the book Uncle Paul had asked Linus Talbot to authenticate. Could this be the “valuable” item Norman wanted?
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday proved difficult. All day I put up with Norman moving in and out of my store, my store. The angrier I got at Norman, the more the idea of staying and making a go of the store on my own appealed to me. Maybe it was that psychological thing where kids want to play with a toy only when another child desires it. Norman wanted what I had, and I was determined I would keep it. He spent the day peering over my shoulder, telling me what a great job I was doing for him and chatting with my few customers. He’d stood outside my door at one point for over an hour, announcing to everyone who passed that he now owned Baxter’s Book Emporium. The final straw came in the early afternoon when I overheard a conversation with an elderly female customer who made the mistake of stopping to talk with him.
“What are your plans for the bookstore?” she sweetly asked.
“I’ll probably get rid of all this old junk cluttering up the shelves and turn this place into a first-class adult video store. I may even add a couple of peep-show booths in the back.”
The woman gasped and placed her hand at her throat. “What?” she asked weakly.
“Sure. It’ll get more male customers into the downtown area. Good for everyone’s businesses. It’ll help change the profile of the typical customer around here. I’ll bet it’ll be the most popular store in town with the men.” Norman elbowed the woman, continuing as she paled even further. “And I’ll bet we’ll have our share of women customers too. How about a discount coupon? Or you could come by and audition for a booth space. I’m sure there would be guys who’d want to see a more mature woman put on a show.” He winked at her.
The lady finally managed to gain strength from her building indignation at such rude insinuations. “I would never stoop to darken the door of such a place. As a matter of fact”—she aimed this comment at me as I rushed to the door to try to stop Norman’s outrageous claims—“I’ll never come back to this store. I’ll be sure to tell all of my friends not to come here either. And you, young lady, should be ashamed working in a place like this. What would your mother say?” With that, the woman stormed down the sidewalk, her back rigid and her nose in the air.
By the time I’d recovered from the shock enough to go after Norman, he’d walked beyond my reach, calling over his shoulder that he was going to grab a late lunch. I stood on the sidewalk watching the retreating figure move down the street, gritting my teeth each time he stopped to chat with folks and point at my bookstore. It was obvious he was repeating his story of an adult video store, as several people angrily pulled away from him and gave me scathing looks as they passed me, leaving me to fantasize about throttling my supposed cousin.
“That man is going to ruin any chance of this bookstore succeeding.” I kicked a small stone lying on the sidewalk, watching it skitter into the street. “One of these days, someone is going to shut him up permanently, but by then it’ll probably be too late for my poor store.”
I jumped when I heard a voice behind me. “Problems?”
I turned and found myself face-to-face with none other than Olivia Hokes. Just what I needed. Although at this point I had to be nice to any neighbors still willing to talk to me. “Yes. I’m trying to figure out how not to lose every possible customer I could ever have.” I hoped she hadn’t heard my comment about someone permanently shutting Norman up. I looked back and burned another hole into his retreating figure with imaginary lasers from my eyes.
Following my gaze, Olivia’s watched Norman’s back as he distanced himself from my anger. “Is that nice man bothering you?”
“Nice?” I couldn’t keep my voice from exploding out at the tiny woman, and when she flinched and took a step back, I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Miss Hokes, it’s simply that he’s ruining my business, and I have no way to stop him.”
“How is he managing to ruin your business?” Olivia’s concern seemed genuine.
Maybe I had misjudged her. Could be I’d previously caught her on a bad day. Both times. At least today didn’t seem to be one of them. “Earlier he told me he’d turn this place into a Starbucks. Now he’s telling everyone he owns the place now and is going to turn it into an adult video store with peep-show booths in back. He’s alienating customers, and no one will want to shop here.” My chest tightened, and my throat closed on the last words.
Olivia put her hand on her chest. “Oh my,” she gasped. “I can see why you’re mad. But how is he getting away with saying he owns the place? I thought Paul left it to you.”
“He did.” I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to block the building headache I’d fought since Norman had shown up again first thing this morning. “The only problem is Norman says he’s the rightful heir. He claims to be Uncle Paul’s illegitimate son.”
“Oh no.” The hand remained at the tiny woman’s chest. “That doesn’t sound like the Paul Baxter I knew. What are you going to do?”
For Whom the Book Tolls Page 12