by Lyn Key
“Then she’s got steelier nerves than me,” Peggy Sue said. “Cemeteries and Peggy Sue Roswell like oil and vinegar do not mix.”
“What’s your plan when the time comes to plant you six feet under?” Hope asked with a smile.
“When it comes, I’ll make an accommodation for taking my trip to the cemetery,” Peggy Sue replied. “But until then, I’m giving it a wide berth. I’m not a superstitious woman or anything ridiculous as that, but it’s bad karma to be in a cemetery unless you’re lying flat inside a pine box with its lid screwed down tight.”
“Can we stop talking about funerals, coffins, and cemeteries?” Stacey asked. “It’s creeping me out.”
“Sorry to go off on a tangent,” Hope said. “All kidding aside, setting your affairs in order is something everybody should do before they shuffle off this mortal coil.”
“English, please,” Stacey said.
“I’m quoting either Shakespeare or Monty Python to mean our dying,” Hope said. “Everybody ought to prepare for it.”
“I’ll make a note of it, Mom,” Stacey said. “But I’m only fifteen, so shouldn’t I be concerned with other stuff first, you know, like passing my classes, going on my first date, and getting my braces taken off?”
“Stace is right,” Peggy Sue said. “Our lunchtime chat about death falls a little on the morbid side.”
Hope gave a shrug. “So is murder, but it happened, and we’re caught in the middle of it through no fault of our own.”
“Are you and Peggy Sue still the dynamic duo of lady sleuths?” Stacey asked.
“After Sergeant Trogg branding us as his suspects, we feel he leaves us with little choice,” Hope replied. “Have you heard any talk about the murder at school?”
“Some of the hallway chatter concerns the murder,” Stacey replied.
“Have any rumors cast Peggy Sue and me as Hugo’s murderers?” Hope asked.
“The rumor is one going around,” Stacey replied. “Are you taking full advantage of our secret asset?”
“You lost me, Stace,” Hope replied. “What secret asset do we have?”
“I know what it is,” Peggy Sue said. “The answer is, yes, we started using it this morning.”
“Are the results encouraging so far?” Stacey asked.
“Will somebody please let me in on what our secret asset is?” Hope asked.
“Stace wonders if Nozy Cat with his one of a kind talent is helping us,” Peggy Sue replied.
“Have you known about Nozy Cat’s one of a kind talent and never let me in on it?” Hope asked Stacey. “I thought we had a clear line of communication between us.”
“I would’ve told you but he asked me not to say anything,” Stacey replied.
“Incredible,” Hope said. “He’s just the family pet while I’m your mother.”
“He’s the talking family pet, Hope,” Peggy Sue said. “That makes him special.”
“That’s another thing I find hard to accept,” Hope said. “Who in the world has ever heard of a talking cat?”
“Since Nozy Cat isn’t here to defend himself, I’ll point out Alice talked to the cat in her Wonderland adventures,” Stacey replied.
“He was the Cheshire Cat,” Peggy Sue said.
“Alice was purely the figment of the author’s fertile imagination,” Hope said. “She wasn’t a real person like you, Stace, and me.”
“Who knows?” Peggy Sue said. “Maybe the British author Lewis Carroll kept a talking cat in his house who served as the literary inspiration for his Cheshire Cat.”
“There you go, Mom,” Stacey said. “Now you can stop feeling so weirded out by Nozy Cat’s talking and go along with it like we’re doing.”
“The only drawback I’ve discovered is once Nozy Cat gets to talking, I wish he came with a mute button,” Peggy Sue said.
“I’ve spoken to him about his gabby habit, and he’s promised to do a better job at listening to us,” Stacey said.
“I want to take an inventory of who knows about Nozy Cat’s gift of gab,” Hope said. “Run through the list with me.”
“You and Stace are on it,” Peggy Sue replied.
“You’ve known it for some time, but I wasn’t ready to hear it until yesterday,” Hope said. “Am I leaving out anybody?”
“Travis also knows, but he’d forgotten about it,” Peggy Sue replied.
“What’s that? How did he get the big news before I did?” Hope asked.
“Nozy Cat revealed it to him at the bookshop,” Peggy Sue replied. “Nozy Cat told Travis a bawdy joke about the traveling encyclopedia salesman and farmer’s daughter, and they shared a hearty male laugh over it.”
“His droll sense of humor is always worth a couple of chuckles to all of us,” Stacey said.
“Not to sound paranoid, but I would’ve liked him to let me in on his secret when he told the rest of you,” Hope said.
“Nozy Cat loves you the most,” Peggy Sue said.
“How might you know that?” Hope asked.
“Because he told so some time ago,” Peggy Sue replied.
Hope threw up her hands. “You see? That’s what I mean!”
Chapter 6
About a year ago, Hope, after a lot of reflection, decided the right time had come to make her move. She wanted to achieve her lifetime dream of establishing her used bookshop. She wasn’t getting any younger, and it wouldn’t be too much longer before she’d have to slip on the bifocals before she could read her books in bed at the day’s end. She liked nothing better than nodding off while she was reading and then waking up the next morning with her hands still clutched to the book. Sometimes it got twisted in the sheets or stuffed under her pillow.
To her credit, Hope knew something about how to run a small business from her series of jobs as an office manager, the latest one at a construction firm office. She loved the fresh, crisp quality of new books, but she wished to peddle the used books of her favorite authors, starting with Emily Brontë who Hope selected to name her bookshop after.
Hope found a magical quality to the used books. When she picked one up, she wondered about the previous readers also flipping it open to Chapter 1. Did the plot sweep them along, or did they find it a slog? Were they entertained or charmed enough to reread it later as she did on the rare occasion? “Hope’s Read Again Books” lined a shelf in her bedroom. Her mother had given her the pink seahorse bookends on her twelfth birthday she still used.
Hope broke the momentous news to Stacey one morning at the breakfast table. Nozy Cat had jumped up on the third chair where he sat and watched them. Hope refilled her mug with a fresh pour from the coffeemaker. She’d bought the half-dozen blueberry scones with lemon glaze they were enjoying from the new pastry shop on Main Street. The blueberries tasted especially juicy and sweet as if a berry farmer had picked them just yesterday.
“I’m going to quit my day job and open a used bookshop here in Sweet Springs,” Hope said. “I found a commercial space available for rent on this end of Main Street.”
Nozy Cat meowed in surprise and then elation.
Stacey scowled. “Then may I get a neck tattoo, drop out of school, and come work at it?” she asked.
“No, you may not do any of that.”
Stacey shrugged a shoulder. “Hey, it was worth taking a shot.”
“Seriously though, my new business idea doesn’t appeal to you?”
“A bookshop sounds like jolly good fun, Mom, but how practical is it? Does anybody in Sweet Springs even like to read much less purchase books other than you and Peggy Sue?”
“Having never opened a bookshop, how can I answer your question? But I’m not going to let my trepidation stop or deter me.”
“Where did you get your outlandish idea? I’ve never heard you bring up running a bookshop until now.”
“It’s been my dream since I was younger than you are.”
“What do you know about selling new books? Did you take an Adult Continuing Ed class at the community col
lege? Did you ever sell new books in a bookshop?”
“I’ll be selling popular used books at my bookshop.”
“Where are you going to find these popular used books? Do they grow on used books vines to pick like grapes and pumpkins?”
“Honey, I have to take it one step at a time.”
“Are you going to operate the bookshop by yourself?”
“Where are all of these questions coming from?”
“I had a good coach: you. Since you want my opinion, may I make a suggestion?”
“Please by all means tell me.”
“Ask Peggy Sue about it since I can see how you’re dug in on this. Let’s see what she has to say.”
“I was going to speak to Peggy Sue next anyway but thanks for the suggestion.”
“Hold on because I’m not finished. You should also adopt a bookshop mascot.”
Nozy Cat slipped Stacey a wink as Hope, laughing, missed catching it.
“How might I adopt a bookshop mascot? Do I place an ad for one on Craigslist or hunt for one at the pet shop?”
“You’ll take Nozy Cat along with you each morning when you leave for your work. He’ll be your bookshop mascot.” Stacey scratched him on the top of his head while he purred his approval of her idea.
“Nozy Cat sheds hair like a cheap shag rug, and he’ll leave the bookshop looking messy and unattractive.”
“Have you ever heard of a broom, feather duster, and vacuum cleaner?”
“I have vast experience with using all three. I suppose having a tuxie cat around will add to the homespun appeal and cozy charm of a used bookshop.”
“Are you kidding me? Nozy Cat will be a sensational hit with the bookshop customers. They’ll want to pet him on the head and scratch between his ears.” Stacey narrowed her eyes on him to stress her next point. “He’ll be a good sport about it and just purr since that’s what the nice cats do, and he’s always a nice cat.”
Nozy Cat yawned.
“He’ll just meow when it’s appropriate, and he’ll prove he excels as a mouser,” Stacey said.
Nozy Cat yawned again.
“I prefer to substitute his looking soft and cuddly in lieu of his mouser role,” Hope said. “The Brontë Bookshop will never have a rodent problem.”
***
The two women friends strolled together down the sidewalk on Chickadee Lane shaded by the acacias and magnolias. Peggy Sue tugged her grandmother’s old purple-fringed shawl (she’d also been a knitter) tighter as the late afternoon had cooled off. A small white dog yapped at them from the picture window of a Cape Cod. Peggy Sue looked closely at Hope who was acting more nervous and agitated than usual.
“You seem like you have something on your mind,” Peggy Sue said.
“I’ve been mulling over making a big change for the past day or so.”
“Does it have to do with your family?”
“This time it has to do more with my career.”
“Are you considering whether or not to become a brain surgeon?”
“I’d never be able to keep straight all the Latin and Greek medical terms.”
“If you feel like you’re ready to share it, I’m all ears.”
Hope stopped walking and faced Peggy Sue. “I’m going to open a used bookshop,” Hope said. “Sweet Springs has never had one, and we deserve it.”
Peggy Sue didn’t bat an eyelash. “Uh-huh. What spurred this rash decision?”
Hope shifted aside as a small girl in pigtails, ringing the handlebar bell, rode on her bicycle past them.
“Actually, I’ve dreamed of doing it since I was a kid, and J.D. was the only person I ever told about it,” Hope replied. “Now I’m set to put my dream into motion.”
“Does Stace know about your big change?”
“I flew it by her this morning over breakfast.”
“Well…?”
“She’s less than enthusiastic about it. She doesn’t cope with change very well, I’m afraid.”
“Stace isn’t the only one. Travis doesn’t either.”
“She’ll just have to smile and get used to it.”
“You’re taking a huge risk. Lots of used bookshops don’t make it in this day and age.”
The stubborn Hope set her jaw. “I know it’s a roll of the dice, but I still want to take my turn at it.”
“You’re probably going to need a hand.”
Hope arched her eyebrow. “Are you interested in joining me?”
“Since I’m between job prospects, I’d be willing to go in as equal partners with you. Travis won’t care if I do unless it infringes on his precious time watching movies and TV.”
Hope relaxed as she smiled for the first time on their walk. “It’s a deal, partner. Shall we shake on it?”
“I trust you as my best friend, and your word is bond enough. Now that that’s squared away, how do we get our new bookshop off the ground?”
“We make it up as we go along like all of the so-called experts do things.”
“Sounds like a winner. What are you going to do about Nozy Cat?”
“Stace said he should accompany me to work and become the bookshop mascot.”
Peggy Sue laughed. “I love it.”
“Our superstitious customers might shy away from our keeping a black cat for the bookshop mascot.”
“Who has the time for those silly folks? Besides, black cats are considered to bring good luck in Japan, Britain, and France.”
“We’ll add the Brontë Bookshop to the black-cats-bring-good-luck list.”
“So, we’re going to be the Brontë Bookshop.” Peggy Sue nodded. “It’s elegant while not too highfalutin, and it gets my stamp of approval. When do we get started?”
“Is tomorrow soon enough?” Hope replied.
***
The Sweet Springs residents liked to hold their yard and garage sales throughout the summer months. Predictably enough, Saturday mornings were the most popular time of the week. Hope recruited Peggy Sue, Stacey, and Nozy Cat to join her first used books roundup. They scouted the different town streets on the lookout for the homemade signs pointing the way to the yard and garage sales.
Hope set as her goal to make ten book purchases she could then turn around to set out for sale at the used bookshop. Peggy Sue took the lead in haggling down the asking prices enough to leave a little meat on the bone for them to turn a profit.
“I’m only charging three dollars a piece for my dozen romance paperbacks,” Mrs. Dailey said, as she stood with her arms akimbo. “They look almost off-the-shelf new, and they’re a steal at that price.”
It’s a steal for you, Peggy Sue thought. “I know they hold sentimental value for you, but that doesn’t bump up their worth.”
Mrs. Dailey fiddled with her hoop earrings, then asked, “What are you thinking is a fair price? Make me a reasonable offer.”
“I don’t mean to beat you up, but the most we can offer you is twenty-five cents for each paperback,” Peggy Sue replied.
“Why, that’s an insult on top of highway robbery,” Mrs. Dailey said. “I won’t go for it.”
“Sorry, but we can’t afford to pay more and help fund your move to Miami Beach,” Hope said.
“Actually, I’m relocating to a retirement community near Fort Lauderdale,” Mrs. Dailey said. “Although I don’t a 3-iron from a 3-wood, there’ll be lots of golf widows there for me to go shopping and play bridge with everyday.”
“I hope you have a blast with your new friends while living in Fort Lauderdale,” Hope said.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Dailey said.
“We can go up to thirty cents if that sweetens the pot any for you,” Stacey said.
Hope felt proud of her daughter for showing her entrepreneurial streak.
“Did I hear something about you’ll soon open a used bookshop on Main Street?” Mrs. Dailey asked.
“We’ve been putting out the word,” Peggy Sue replied. “What if we are?”
“You’re probably sear
ching for the stock to put up in your place of business,” Mrs. Dailey replied. “My popular romances will sell like hotcakes at the spring carnival.”
“They won’t sell at all if we have to charge more than fifty cents for each,” Hope said. “We have to make a living from the bookshop.”
“We like to eat and our bills come due just like yours do,” Peggy Sue said.
“Can you see your way to bump it up to forty cents?” Mrs. Dailey asked. “That leaves you making a dime profit on each romance sale.”
“That’s not enough money to make it worth our while,” Hope replied. “Stace gave you the quote of thirty cents each, and that’s where we have to stand firm.”
“Consider it as our best and final offer,” Peggy Sue said. “We can’t go one penny higher.”
Crossing her arms while studying the romances in the milk crate next to the stack of burnt orange salad bowls, Mrs. Dailey mulled it over.
“How many romances have you moved this morning?” Stacey asked.
“Surprisingly, nobody has given them a second look,” Mrs. Dailey replied.
“Then I’d be willing to predict the odds are fairly good nobody will by the end of your garage sale,” Stacey said. “On the other hand, we’re ready to give you cold, hard cash and take them off your hands. You won’t land a better deal than ours.”
“Your pocketing three dollars and sixty cents is better than your tossing the paperbacks into the recycling bin,” Peggy Sue said.
“If I were you, Mrs. Dailey, I’d take the money and run,” Stacey said.
“You lady horse traders have got a deal,” Mrs. Dailey said but with a smile. “I wish you the best of luck with your new used bookshop, too.”
“We’re going to need all the luck we can get trying to make it in this tough economy,” Hope said.
“I tell you what I’ve decided to do,” Mrs. Dailey said as she picked up the milk crate. “Keep your money and take the romances with you. I’ll contribute them as the start to building your new used bookshop into a successful business venture. Sweet Springs has needed such a place for ages.”
“That’s even better,” Stacey said. “What made you change your mind?”
“I’m a cat person from way back when, and your cat there is the handsome devil that melted my heart,” Mrs. Dailey said.