by S. E. Babin
I never believed in the concept of an arch nemesis until I met Jeff Bastian. I hadn't been the owner of my shop for a week before he barreled in asking me to name my price. He'd arrived in town right after I locked myself into the deal to buy the store and had been hounding me ever since to sell the place. I wasn't sure how many different ways I could tell the man no before he left me alone, but so far nothing had worked.
I stepped into the main area of the store and Jeff spun around. His brown eyes did that thing that some guys with no respect for women did. The look at your face then skim quickly down your entire body with their gaze in less than a second. As if he could tell I'd just been stuffing my face with Jen's delicious homemade bread. I stifled a shudder and put on my best bored look.
"Hi, Jeff. The answer is still no."
Jeff's lips thinned. "As delightful as I find you, Dakota, that isn't why I'm here."
Surprise sent my brows up to my hairline. "Oh? That's a first. Are you looking for something in particular?"
Jeff sniffed and turned his nose up. He was such a snob. "My brother is visiting soon. He's thinking about moving here. I'd like to get him a guidebook of Virginia."
Jeff here for a book? Wonders would never cease. "Two Bastians in the town of Silverwood Hollow?" I said. "I'm not sure my poor heart can handle it."
"Funny," Jeff said, his voice unamused. His gaze flicked around the store, taking in all the ambiance. He didn't seem like a guy who enjoyed ambiance. Jeff seemed like the type to stomp all over ambiance, like a greedy Godzilla rampaging through the town. He was the kind of guy who wanted to tear my shop down and replace it with something that looked exactly like the shop next to it. "So, have you visited Jen yet?" I gave him an innocent smile. I wasn't the only one Jeff was bugging to sell. He wanted all the shops on this side of the town. For what, none of us knew, but it couldn't be good.
He rolled his eyes. "Guidebook, Dakota, before I go to the big box store out of town."
I put a hand to my heart. "The horror," I said dryly and waved at him to follow me.
Jeff pushed off the counter and walked beside me, his dry lemonish cologne tickling my nose. "Tell me about your brother," I asked as we walked.
His gaze lit on me, but he looked away. "Totally different from me. Fancies himself somewhat of an artist. I think you’ll like him."
I thought I might, too, but the way Jeff said it didn't make it seem like a compliment. "What type of artist?" I led him through the back of the store to the reference section. I kept several guides of Virginia in stock because of the tourists.
"Seascapes," Jeff said. "I think. He does some sculpture work, too."
I stopped at the shelf I needed and ran my fingers over the spines. "Is that what he does full-time?"
Jeff sighed. "No, he's a librarian."
My fingers stilled, and I pulled back to look up at Jeff. His height was imposing. I knew this was irritating him, so I wanted to draw it out. "Really? A librarian?"
A smile was about to curl his lips, but he stifled it. I couldn't believe stuffed shirt Jeff had a librarian brother.
"Yes," he said shortly. "Like I said. You'll like him. But he's a huge disappointment to our family."
I rolled my eyes at that. Even Jeff sounded like he didn't believe that one. Turning back to the guides, I pulled one of them out entitled, Virginia’s Best and Yummy.
"This one has all the tourist spots, plus a guide of the best places to eat. Has he ever been here?"
Jeff shook his head. "No, we're all from California. This will be the first time he's been here."
"Then this should work. If he wants any books while he's here, please tell him to stop by."
Jeff plucked the book out of my fingers. "He's a librarian," he sneered. "He has plenty of books."
The man in front of me obviously didn't understand how books worked. "Okay then. Since you were halfway human today, have Harper ring you up at regular price."
His brow furrowed. "Regular price?"
"Yup," I said, as I waggled my fingers at him. "We have a list of Jeff prices dependent on how annoying you are to us."
Jeff snorted and headed up to the register. I grinned at his back. I certainly didn't like the guy, but maybe there was more than meets the eye to him.
I watched as Harper rang him up. She eyeballed him a few times, I assume waiting for him to make a sarcastic comment, but he didn't. When he took his bag, she turned to me and I shrugged having no explanation for his out of character behavior. Maybe his meds kicked in. No idea.
Two women brushed past Jeff and into the store before the door closed behind him. They were both short, dark-haired, and bore a remarkable resemblance to one another. Familiarity tickled at the back of my mind. I knew I'd seen them somewhere before. Silverwood Hollow was a small town, but not everyone here read a lot. Plus, I had a lot of competition from the neighboring towns with larger bookstores. I wasn't too worried about it, though. I was doing a comfortable, brisk business here. Plus, I could get my hands on books the bigger stores couldn't.
"Hi!" I greeted. "Welcome to Tattered Pages."
The shorter woman smiled at me, a bright grin lighting up her round, pleasant face. Her skin was weathered from the sun, but there were dark circles under her eyes, suggesting more of an issue than just a few sleepless nights. "Hello," she said. "I keep saying I'm going to come in here, but I rarely feel well enough to leave the house these days." She pointed outside. "But it's just so breezy and cool today that I felt I had to get out!"
I smiled back, not wanting to pry into her health issues. But curiosity made me say, "I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm glad you're here. Is everything okay with your health?"
I glanced over to the woman standing next to her. A dark frown wrinkled her brow before it quickly disappeared.
The friendly woman waved a hand. "Oh, it comes and goes, you know? Some days I feel okay. Some days I'm just tired. All part of getting old, I guess." She put a hand on her companion's shoulder. "This is my sister, Carrie, and I'm Marcy."
I knew they had to be related. I smiled politely and stuck out my hand. "Dakota Adair. I own this shop."
Marcy shook my hand. Her hands were freezing. Sadness squeezed my heart as I felt the tremor of her grip. When she released it, I waited for Carrie to shake, but she didn't make a move to, so I dropped my hand awkwardly.
The other woman was taller and thinner, her face sharp in its edges. I wondered if she ever smiled. She put a proprietary hand on her sister's elbow and muttered a low "excuse me."
I stepped out of the way and let her pass, a frown forming on my face as I watched them. Something was weird about those two, the taller sister more than the friendlier one. Shaking my head, I wandered back behind the counter. Harper was still standing there, her gaze trailing after the two women.
"They were kind of weird, weren't they?" Harper whispered.
I nodded. "Definitely. It takes all kinds, though, and if they're here to buy, then we should sell to them." I shrugged but still watched them as they rounded a corner.
Poppy jumped on top of the counter and rubbed against my arm. I stroked her silky head. Her attention was rapt in the area where the woman disappeared to and just before she jumped down, a hiss erupted from her small body.
My eyebrows rose as I watched the cat stick her tail straight up in the air and sashay over to the area where they were.
"She won't bite anyone, will she?" Harper asked, concern thick in her voice.
I blinked. "I wouldn't think so. She's never bitten anyone unless they pet her for too long. Even then it's usually just a snap to get them to stop.” My gaze trailed after Poppy as she disappeared around the corner. “Let’s hope.”
About ten minutes later, the women came up to the counter. “I’m looking for Alice in Wonderland,” Marcy said.
Harper stepped around the desk. “We have it in the back with the children’s books,” she said. “Would you like me to escort you?” She pointed to the right corner of the stor
e where all the young adult fiction was shelved.
Carrie, the taller sister, shook her head. “No. She’s looking for a rare version. It’s Through the Looking Glass.” She sent a dirty look over to Marcy. “Not the first one. She’s looking to complete the set.”
Harper blinked and dropped her hand. “Okay then,” she said and pressed her lips together.
Marcy’s cheeks flushed pink at her sister’s behavior. "So sorry," Marcy said as she sent her sister a disapproving look. "I was willed our parent's books about five years ago, and we've been looking for the other book for quite a while. I didn't realize your store might stock it until I was at the library and I overheard someone talking."
Carrie's gaze narrowed, but she didn't speak again. I squashed down a trickle of intense dislike for her and turned my attention to Marcy. "I know we don't have that book in stock, but I can try to get it in for you. What's your budget?"
Marcy sighed. "I'm not really sure. I'm more of a reader than a collector. I have a lot of rare books at my home, but the only reason I have them is because they were given to me." A sad smile lit her mouth. "I'd much rather be reading them than storing them." She sighed. "Isn't that what books are for?"
Carrie gave a derisive snort.
I reached over and patted Marcy's hand. "Of course it is. We use special gloves to handle any rare books coming in, but even we get tempted to snuggle down in one of those bean bags and get lost in the world of fiction."
Gratefulness flickered in her eyes. "I guess we can look and see. Ideally I'd like to keep the costs low if I can."
"You can't possibly hope to spend less than a grand on the book you need," Carrie snapped. "It won't look right sitting next to the first edition!"
My eyebrows went up a little at that. They had a first edition of Alice in Wonderland?
Marcy sighed a patient sigh. "I don't care about that, Carrie. I just want the set completed, just to have the two books. It doesn't matter what edition it is."
"But it does," she whined. "It will look terrible."
Marcy shook her head. "The house is already stuffed to the gills with books. No one will even notice."
Carrie pressed her lips together so tightly they went white.
Marcy continued. "I had to move most of the books to the inside of my master bedroom." She shook her head. "It's stuffed floor to ceiling with books! I have new flooring being installed in a day or two and they needed everything out."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" I said politely. "What kind of flooring?"
"Just some laminate," Marcy said. "It looks pretty, though, and I got a wonderful deal on it through a friend!"
I bent over the keyboard and began to type in the search parameters to find her book. There were a lot listed. "The cheapest one I can find is about $250. The condition is good, but I wouldn't handle it without gloves. Is that a good price point?" I turned the screen so she could see it.
"No," Carrie said quickly. "It just won't do."
Marcy stood up straighter and faced her sister. "I don't think that's up to you, now is it?" she said.
Carrie's eyes widened in surprise and something dark glittered in her eyes. A shiver ran up my spine. Her sister was truly unlikeable.
"I suppose not," Carrie mumbled.
Marcy leaned over to peer at the book for sale. "That looks like it will do," she said. "Would you mind looking around a little more for me? I'm afraid I'm not feeling very well, so I need to go. But if you find something in a comparable price point in better condition would you mind snagging it for me?"
"Of course," I said. Hurriedly thumbing through the files I kept on the side of the register, I pulled a form out and quickly wrote down the book Marcy was looking for and her estimated budget.
"This is a short contract between you and me just stating if I order the book, you will reimburse the purchase price." We didn't often do that, but we had the capability to. Marcy seemed like a woman who would keep her word. Plus, she wanted the book just because she loved it and not for how valuable it was.
I handed her over the pen, and she signed her name in a quick flourish. Straightening, she gave me a weak smile and turned to go.
I raised my hand in farewell. "I'll be in touch," I said.
At that moment, Poppy jumped up on the counter and sat there staring at the two women, her look fixated on the taller sister.
“Oh!” Carrie said. “Adorable kitty.” She reached out to give Poppy a stroke on the head, but the cat hissed and swiped at her with her paw. I inhaled a gasp and Carrie took a step back.
Without a word, Carrie took her sister by the arm and escorted her out the door. She turned once before she walked out of the shop and gave me an unreadable look.
I hoped when the book came in that Marcy came in to pick it up herself. I didn't think I wanted to see that woman again. From Poppy’s reaction, she didn’t want to either.
3
It took a week for the woman's book came in. I did the best I could to try to find something in really good condition and at the price point she wanted. As soon as I slid out of my car, I shivered in the cold fall air and zipped my jacket up a little higher to cover my mouth and nose.
The woman's house was waterfront property, nondescript but well-kept. It was painted a soft blue and had an inviting wrap-around porch attached to it. A lonely rocking chair sat next to the door, its paint peeling off. A planter was off to the right of the chair, but the plant inside of it had long since died. Although the house was cheery from a distance, walking closer to it showed there were real signs of neglect. Sadness hit me as I walked up to the steps. The porch itself was made of wood and was probably once gorgeous, but the paint had long since peeled and the wood bleached to a pale imitation of what it had once been.
Inhaling a sigh, I reached up and knocked on the door, hopeful that what I had in the sack slung over my arm would make her happy. It was right at the top of her budget, unsigned, but in almost pristine condition. The color and spine of the book would closely match the one she had, even if it wasn't worth as much. Still, Marcy admitted she wasn't much of a collector and just wanted the book for the joy it would bring her. Carrie would hate it.
A smile lit my lips over that thought. Carrie probably hated a lot.
The seconds stretched longer until I knocked again. It might take her a while to come to the door, especially if she wasn't feeling well.
I shifted back and forth on my feet in an effort to keep warm. Foggy breath puffed from me. I leaned against the doorframe and listened for footsteps.
Nothing.
I frowned and knocked one more time, this time slipping off my glove to make sure my knuckles made contact with the door. Stepping back, I looked around the small neighborhood. There weren't too many houses on the street. Most of them, including Marcy's, had a large plot of land with it. Behind it, the waters of Silverwood Bay gently washed against the shore. Briny and clean air swirled around me, gently lifting my hair.
I loved it here. The people, the gorgeous bay, the sweet taste of fresh seafood right off the coast. There was little I would change about it, even if I could.
I blew out a huff of frustrated air. There was still no answer and Marcy had sworn she'd be home today. I called her this morning to double check. I walked to the side of the porch and peeked around toward the back. An old, gray Honda sat quietly in the driveway.
"Hmmm," I muttered. I hoped nothing was wrong. I went back to the door, knocked one more time. If I didn't hear someone calling, I'd take more drastic measures. Normally, I'd leave and try again later, but Marcy was excited about the new book and we'd agreed to meet at three this afternoon. I dug my cell phone out of my bag and punched the last number I called into it.
The phone jangled inside. Once. Twice. Again until the voicemail picked up.
"Shoot," I whispered. I headed over to the large windows and peeked in through the slight gap the curtains made. The house was dimly lit, but I couldn't see anything amiss through the first one.
I walked to the second window on the other side of the door and peeked through that one, too. Squinting through the curtains gap, my heart sped up as my brain tried to register what I was seeing.
I pounded on the window. "Marcy!" I shouted.
Someone, maybe Marcy, was lying on the floor. I could make out two feet encased in house slippers, but the rest of the person was obscured by a wall.
I rushed away from the window and tried the door handle. To my surprise, the door opened right away. I stepped back like something bit me and froze as I pondered going in.
She could be hurt. I should try to help her.
She could be dead, and I might mess up an investigation. A few seconds later, I pushed open the door and went inside. My urge to help her if she was hurt overrode the police concerns. In an emergency, even a few moments could make or break someone's life. As soon as I stepped in, I reeled back at a strange smell. Cloying, sweet and something I remember vaguely smelling before. I covered my mouth with the crook of my arm and pushed through. The living room floor was halfway replaced with a dark laminate. The rest of it was sitting in a neat pile by the door. Maybe the crew had taken the day off.
Bad timing for Marcy if they had. I jogged over to the person and crouched down.
My breath caught. It was Marcy.
Shivering, I put two fingers to the side of her neck to feel for a pulse, but I knew what I would find.
Nothing.
Marcy was dead.
* * *
My teeth chattered as I hurriedly stepped back and fumbled through my bag again for my cell. Dialing 9-1-1, I stepped out of the house and sank into the old rocking chair. Poor Marcy.
"9-1-1, please state your emergency," a monotone voice said over the line.
I rattled off what had happened and the address I was at.
"Please stay where you are, and we will send help shortly. Are you sure the woman is deceased?"
"Positive," I said glumly. "No pulse and ..." I swallowed hard. "Her coloring is off. She's definitely dead."