Aside from her posture, I remembered the reasons we hadn’t been the closest of friends, and I was surprised that grown-up adults still said the types of things she’d just said. She’d spoken about her high school accomplishments (the specifics of which I couldn’t recall at the moment) the same way she’d just talked about Donte’s success. I didn’t know what his company was or how it had become successful, but I was happy for them both. Jodie would have rolled her eyes and said something sarcastic, but I smiled and nodded.
“That’s great,” I said. The expression on my face and the pushing up of my glasses must not have hid my confusion.
“You don’t know? Well, Donte has a successful textbook publishing company. He started with that proof he did at the U.”
I was even more lost, but I tried to hide it better. I was still unsuccessful, but at least I knew “the U” meant the University of Utah.
“You don’t know about Donte’s success? Oh, that’s right, you weren’t part of that brainy crowd.”
I wasn’t, but neither was she, nor Donte, for that matter. I didn’t point that out.
“Right,” she said. “Well, he changed the entire world of mathematics with one simple equation. Then he printed a textbook and it sold millions. He’s now working with other textbook writers to print and sell their books.”
“That’s really terrific, Sarah. I’m happy for you both.”
“Thanks. You’re still working with your grandfather?”
“I am. We’re still rescuing words.”
She sent me a smirky smile, and I began to doubt that she and I ever really did get along. “I guess we are rescuing them too, as a used bookstore would do.”
“True. Hey, speaking of high school, I just heard some terrible news this morning. I wondered if you’d heard.”
“What?”
“Remember Lloyd Gavin?”
“Of course. Well, I didn’t until recently, but . . . why?”
“He was killed, murdered.”
Sarah sat down hard, as if she collapsed more than sat. Fortunately, there was an old chair behind her that was unfolded and at the ready.
“Oh,” I said as I hurried around the corner of the counter. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m just shocked,” she said. She swallowed hard. The inside light was sallow anyway, but I wondered if she’d lost every ounce of blood from her face. “Donte was supposed to meet with him. I’d better call him.”
She seemed to look around for her phone, toward the counter and cash register, and then she patted her pockets.
“Hang on. Let me get you some water or something,” I said. “Is there anything in the back? A sink?”
She nodded distractedly. “Yes, there’s a small bathroom, but there’s a water tank right inside the back storage room. Water is a good idea. Thank you.”
“You sure you won’t fall out of the chair while I’m gone?”
“I’ll be all right.” She steadied herself by leaning on the counter’s side wall. I wasn’t sure that would help, and I hesitated a bit before I hurried away to get the water.
The storage room/office was so small and so packed with boxes of books that I thought the health department or the fire department or some such organization would close the place down if they saw it. I stood in the only small open floor space in the middle, and had to turn and reach to grab the cup from the dispenser and the lift the handle to get some water. Not only were the shelves and desks and other floor spaces packed with papers and boxes of books, but the garbage can next to the water tank was overflowing with paper cups and pieces of paper. I was sure she was overwhelmed, but the part of me that likes organization wondered if I should offer her some help. The thought flew away as I hurried back to her.
Fortunately, she was making a quick recovery. Her pallor became much more normal.
“Thank you,” she said after she took a sip of the water. “That’s not a normal reaction for me, but it did catch me off guard. Obviously, I hadn’t heard. I do need to get ahold of Donte, though. Do you mind?” She’d found the phone and held it gripped tightly in her hand.
“Of course not.”
“Can you tell me more? What happened?” she asked. She hadn’t tried to loosen her grip to make the call yet.
I’d told her about Lloyd mostly to see her reaction or what she said about his connection to Donte. But I didn’t know how much Jodie would want me sharing about the horror inside the ski boot or any of the other details, so I said, “I don’t really know much more.”
If word got out that Marion was the one to call about Lloyd’s still-boot-clad foot, I’d think of something to tell Sarah.
“Goodness,” she said before she finally opened her fingers and made the call.
I pretended to look at some nearby shelves as she spoke to Donte. Her side of the conversation made me think that her husband didn’t know about the murder either. I smiled to myself when she said, “Yes, Clare Henry, remember her? Well, we went to high school with her.” As she ended the call, she seemed back to her old self. She even stood from the chair.
“I’m sorry if I surprised him too,” I said.
She blinked at me as if she’d forgotten I was there. “Yes, he was surprised. Their meetings were supposed to start this evening. He hadn’t heard a word from Lloyd, but he didn’t really expect to until tonight. Donte’s in Salt Lake City. If it’s a murder, though, I’m sure the story will hit the news outlets there at some point.”
“I’m sure. What was he meeting with Lloyd about?”
“I don’t know. Donte wasn’t sure. All I knew is that it was some sort of reunion of some successful graduates from our high school.”
“How did he hear about the meetings? I mean a phone call, an e-mail?”
Sarah shrugged. “I just know there were some meetings or get-togethers or something like that.”
“So, Lloyd, Donte, and who else?” I asked.
“Um. Well, there was Howard Craig, but that’s all I remember Donte mentioning, and he only knew that because Howard called him to ask if Donte would be attending too. I think.”
“Oh yeah, Howard’s family had lots of money,” I said, remembering a redheaded, aloof, well-dressed teenager whose crowd I was far too poor and poorly dressed to be a part of.
“That’s nothing like the money he made on his own.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, some oil thing up in Wyoming. Beaucoup bucks.”
“I had no idea. Is Howard in town too?”
“I would guess he is.” She nodded. “He never got married, but his parents and his siblings are still in and around Star City. I didn’t think to ask Donte to track him down and let him know. I should call him back.”
“It might be good for the police to let Howard know. Do you know where he might be staying?”
“His family’s house or the Three Bells; that’s where he’s stayed before,” she said.
“I’ll have my friend Jodie track him down. She’s a police officer.”
“Sure. That’s a good idea,” she said distractedly.
“I had no idea about Howard’s success, but good for him. And good for you and Donte too, Sarah. I’m happy for you all.”
“Thanks,” she said dubiously. For the first time since I’d come into the store, she looked a little older than her high school self. Still pretty but suddenly a little more human, though the amazing posture was still there. Maybe it was the doubt I heard in her tone. Like she wasn’t used to people being happy for her.
“This is a great bookstore,” I said.
“Well, I hope it will be. It’s kind of a mess right now, but I certainly have plenty of inventory, and you’d be amazed by how many visitors stop by for something to read while they’re here to ski. I think it will be all right.”
&nb
sp; “And that’s interesting stuff,” I said as I looked at the metaphysical shelf.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said.
“You believe in talking to the dead?”
“Oh yes.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I find the ideas behind it very interesting.”
I remembered the title of the book Janise and Evan had mentioned. “Hmm, Speeches from the Dead. Sounds fascinating. . . .”
“It is. Unfortunately, that one’s not for sale, Clare. Someone already purchased it. They just have to come pick it up.”
So they hadn’t come right back to the bookshop? There were probably many reasons, but I couldn’t help wondering why.
I nodded. “That book looks old.” I pointed to the only one on the top shelf. Living with the Dead’s hardback cover was bent and worn at the corners, its colors faded. “In case you ever have any books you want repaired, we can help.”
“Hmm. I’m glad you brought that up. I might have some need for you and your skills,” she said. “And that one is old. Not supervaluable, but about twenty years old and hard to find. It’s got some pretty controversial ideas, but it doesn’t need repairing.”
“Like what? The controversial ideas?”
Sarah gave me the longest, deepest look I thought I’d ever had sent my direction. I pushed up my glasses and tried not to waver my return glance.
“If you’re really curious you should come by some Thursday evening. I have a group of friends. We gather on Thursdays and talk about those sorts of things.”
“Thank you for the invitation.” I smiled, though I wasn’t sure I was quite that interested.
“You know, I’ll be honest with you, Clare. It’s the biggest reason I wanted to have something back here in Star City. There’s something about this place, this town on the mountain. I feel like I’m much more in touch with the other side up here.”
Even Elizabeth Owl, who owned the crystal shop, had never talked to me about such things. She was Seth’s landlady, her shop below his apartment, and she also sold metaphysical books, but I didn’t think her selection was so specific to communicating with the dead. If I remembered correctly, hers was more about self-improvement.
“That’s interesting,” I said. There was probably no one on this planet who felt less connected to the “other side” than me, but I kept that to myself because, frankly, I was open-minded enough to think that it was my disconnect that hadn’t allowed those sorts of things into my life.
“It is interesting. I’m happy to share more. So are my friends. Come by some Thursday night.”
“I’d probably enjoy that,” I said. One more time, I pushed up my glasses, this time with the hope of distracting Sarah from my forced enthusiasm.
“Give your family my best,” she said cheerily, and with a clear note of finality. She turned to make her way back to her office. “I know you and Creighton Wentworth are no longer together, but I hope your personal life is satisfying nonetheless.”
I was caught off guard by her mention of Creighton. Why did she know he and I weren’t together, how did she remember that we were, and why did she care enough to bring it up? I tamped down the defensiveness that wanted to make its way out of my mouth and just said, “Thanks so much, Sarah.”
I liked her shop, but I wasn’t sure she and I would ever get along enough for me to hang out inside it. I was curious about the metaphysical touch, mostly because after speaking with Janise and Evan, I expected more than a few shelves. Admittedly, I was also slightly curious about the Thursday night meetings, but, again, I didn’t think she and I would get along well enough for me to attend one.
It was too cold to linger outside for long. I blew on my fingers, grabbed my phone out of my pocket, and hurried back toward The Rescued Word. I hit Jodie’s number as I went.
“What’s up, Clare?”
“Howard Craig was also invited to the meetings or reunion or whatever. He’s at the Three Bells or his family’s house.”
“How do you know this?”
“I stopped by Starry Night Books to tell Sarah hello. I also mentioned that Lloyd had been killed. I can give you the other details in person.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, but I can’t state the specific issues offhand—other than you just should have left it to us. I know, I know, we should have been there by now.”
“Sorry if I did something wrong, but it’s good information, huh?” I smiled.
She hesitated long enough that I could tell she was smiling too, but only briefly. “I’ll talk to you later, Clare.”
We disconnected the call and I hurried along. I have work to do too, Sarah McMasters Senot.
An old 1960 Facit typewriter (a series II with a pica typeface that was quite wonderful, by the way) had come in the day before and needed my undivided attention.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be, and my plans to get to work were diverted by our visiting author and one of his complaints.
6
Chester had long ago perfected the cat-that-ate-the-canary pose. He was even better than Baskerville. Chester’s eyes were the first ones mine found as I hurried into The Rescued Word. I stopped short, wondering if maybe I was being sent some sort of warning.
I surveyed. Marion was behind the counter but standing back a bit. She behaved as if she didn’t notice me, her pensive attention fully on the group of three on the other side of the counter. Along with Chester were Adal and our visiting author, Nathan Grimes. They were not in the middle of a happy moment.
Baskerville, from his spot on the counter, leaned to the side, around Adal, and looked at me with the sort of wonderment I knew him to have when the agony of strife filled the air and disturbed his peace.
“Clare,” Adal said. “Guten Morgen.” He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”
His German accent was light most of the time, sometimes even unnoticeable. But when he was upset, sometimes not only did his accent get heavier, but he used German words too, some familiar to everyone.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said as I stepped closer to them. “How’s everything?”
Chester raised one eyebrow as Adal cleared his throat again.
“I’m afraid I’m causing some difficulties this morning,” Nathan said.
“Okay. What’s up?” I said.
“I’m unhappy with the fact that Adal will not let me set the type myself. What I’m saying is that I’d like to put the type in the trays myself. I want this to be a completely self-published work, recto-verso if you know what I mean.”
I looked at Adal. He’d apparently taught Nathan “right” and “left” when it came to the sides of a leaf of paper, though Nathan was stretching the meaning. Still, I liked that he was learning and Adal was teaching.
“He’s chosen the Bridgnorth,” Adal said.
“Oh. Nathan, that’s one of our oldest types. I’m sorry but only Chester, Adal, and I are allowed to work with it.”
“I’m not going to break it,” Nathan said.
“No, that’s not . . . Perhaps there’s another font you could use. Truly, you picked the only one we are extra-extracareful with. It’s become our endangered species. And besides, we’re low on Bridgnorth E’s.”
“I can work with that, use other E’s. I really need to use Bridgnorth,” Nathan said.
When I first heard that Nathan Grimes was going to be spending some time with us, I was sort of excited and sort of not excited. The Rescued Word was a business and we were all busy, and though I loved all writers and almost every single book I’d ever read, I didn’t know how much of a diva Nathan might prove to be. I’d told Chester that if Nathan didn’t behave, I would kick him out, even if he was a bestselling author and one to whom Jodie had given her own five-star rating by calling him “a damn good writer.” I’d been extra-alert to any diva behavior, but I hadn’t seen much up to now.
What I liked most about Nathan, other than his wonderfully creepy prose, was that he wore a cap and scarf with an authentic flair that hadn’t been carried off well since Sherlock Holmes. I’d heard he also smoked a pipe, but though I thought I’d smelled tobacco a time or two, I’d yet to see him smoking.
“I’m sorry, Nathan, but let me look over the type and confirm that we need to be as careful as I think we need to be. I’ll do that this morning and let you know,” I said.
“This isn’t up for debate. I’m the customer and I’ll use the font.”
Chester sent me another smile, still kind of Cheshire. I was one millisecond away from telling Nathan that this just wasn’t going to work, that either he’d follow the rules or he’d have to find someone else’s Gutenberg replica, when Marion piped up.
“I have an idea,” she said.
We all looked at her, even Baskerville.
“How about I search for something that’s like Bridgnorth type? I’ve learned so much and have an eye for similarities.” She laughed. “Maybe I’ll even find another rare set that Nathan could buy for himself. That would make the book even more self-published. It shouldn’t take long, and our network of connections is vast. You have something else you could work on for a few days, right?”
Marion smiled and looked at Nathan. She kept her gaze level, but she’d been friendly in her tone, friendlier than where the rest of us were probably headed. We waited.
A long moment later, he said, “I think your idea is brilliant.”
“So do I!” Chester said.
“I do too,” I said. “Yes, please, Marion, see what you can find. Let us know.”
“Even better for me to have time to work on Frank a little more. He’s a bit out of shape and could use a few more tweaks,” Chester said. “No time like the present to get to it.” He grabbed Baskerville.
“I have a typewriter to work on. Marion, you okay up here?” I said.
“Fine. I can look for the type and help customers.”
“All right, come on back, Adal and Nathan. You two can work on . . . something.”
“How about I run across the street and grab some coffees for us all?” Nathan asked as if he hadn’t been on the verge of an angry storm a few minutes earlier. Or maybe it was his way of apologizing.
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