by Ellery Adams
“Wow. You’re an amazing hugger,” she said when they separated. “Your treat is on the counter. It’s a comfort scone.”
Sheldon’s eyes went big. “I’ve heard about those scones. They’re, like, a local legend.”
Hester blushed, said that she had to run, and left the shop.
Sheldon winced at the sound of the sleigh bells banging against the door. “Can we—?”
“No.” Nora opened the takeout bag. “I’m not very hungry. I shouldn’t have eaten that chocolate book pocket so close to lunch. If I take the lentil soup, do you want the entrée?”
“Depends what it is.”
“Gnocchi Arrabiatta.”
Sheldon made a gimme gesture. “I’ve never met a dumpling I didn’t like. I’m going to eat while I work, so is it okay if your book keeps you company?”
“Always,” said Nora.
By midafternoon, Nora’s only real accomplishment had been completing her insurance forms and getting an estimate from the area’s only glass company.
The shop was dead. Nora worried that it would stay dead until the window was fixed. Unless Sheldon could perform a creative miracle, people would look at the bookstore and feel uneasy. A broken window wasn’t charming. It didn’t evoke visions of reading and relaxing. It evoked a lack of security, which was never charming.
“I’m taking a scone break,” Sheldon announced. “Want to have a cuppa with me?”
Since Nora had had her fill of coffee, she made herself some herbal tea.
Sheldon warmed his scone and joined Nora at the circle of chairs. He raised his plate to his nose and inhaled. Tears instantly sprang to his eyes.
Gently, Nora asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a Nutella Scone. How did she know?”
Sheldon took a bite. He chewed, swallowed, and began to cry in earnest.
Nora grabbed some tissues from the ticket agent’s office and knelt beside Sheldon. She rested her hand lightly on his knee and waited for him to cry it out.
“I’m okay,” he said after a while. He took the tissues and wiped his blotchy face. “My parents—they weren’t good together. They were like your broken window—all sharp edges. They threw things. They called each other names. They fought over what their god wanted for me. The Jewish God versus the Catholic God. My mom would accuse his people of worshipping humans. She was referring to the saints. My papa would accuse her people of killing Jesus. They took turns shoving Hanukkah and Christmas traditions down my throat. Yom Kippur and Easter. In the end, I rejected both faiths. They both sulked about this until they went to their graves. They died within weeks of each other. It was their final fight. Who’d get to heaven first.”
“Why didn’t they just split up?”
“They didn’t believe in divorce. They cohabitated in misery for nearly fifty years. The only thing that they could agree on—that only thing that brought peace to our house—was Nutella. They were wild about it. So was I. That’s why this scone reminds me of our best times. Nutella was my Hanukkah and Christmas. It was my temporary heaven. Nutella wasn’t big in America back then, but my mom shopped at an international deli that imported it. It was an extravagance—my parents fought over money several times a day—but they never argued about Nutella. That chocolatey hazelnut miracle spread was, and always will be, my comfort food.”
Nora squeezed his hand. “This is Hester’s magic. Like all magic, it’s fickle. But when it works, it really works.”
“Speaking of magic, do want to see some of mine?” Sheldon asked with a smile.
“Of course.”
Sheldon finished his scone and took a sip of coffee. He then dabbed his mouth and stood up. Helping Nora to her feet, he said, “Allow me to channel Melissa Etheridge by saying, Come to my window.”
Chapter 12
The important task of literature is to free man, not to censor him.
—Anaïs Nin
Sheldon made Nora promise not to look at the window until they were outside.
“I want you to see it like everyone else will,” he explained. “I’m pretty sure no one will pass by this window without stopping. They won’t be able to help themselves. It’s like seeing someone with head-to-toe tattoos. You have to look.”
Nora closed her eyes and allowed Sheldon to lead her out into the balmy April afternoon. She inhaled the scents of cut grass and the tulips and hyacinths in the pots flanking her front door. She felt the sunshine falling on her face.
Sheldon pivoted her by the shoulders. “Open your eyes.”
The large piece of acrylic Nora had bought at the hardware store covered the hole in the glass. A swath of chicken wire stretched across the bottom half of the window and columns of black duct tape were placed at regular intervals across the glass and the piece of acrylic. Nora felt like she was looking into a prison cell. When she saw that the books were draped in prison orange, she understood that Sheldon had created a jail scene. In the center of the window, directly behind the hole made by the brick, was a sign reading,
ARE YOU BRAVE ENOUGH TO BUY A BANNED BOOK?
The books on display represented every genre. Under each book, Sheldon had affixed a sign indicating why the title had been banned. Nora was familiar with most of the books, but she was surprised by the inclusion of certain titles. For example, a used copy of the American Heritage Dictionary was on display. The sign hanging below the reference tome read, BANNED FOR OBJECTIONABLE ENTRIES.
“A dictionary?” she murmured in astonishment before her eyes fell on another shocker. “Charlotte’s Web? Seriously?”
Sheldon followed her gaze. “A parent group in a Midwestern state complained because the animals could speak. These folks took issue with animals being elevated to the same communication level as humans. In their eyes, this was sacrilegious.”
Nora kept looking at the books. “I’ve heard lots of reasons for the Harry Potter series being banned. Do you know how many people became book lovers because of that series? And the idea of banning Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl because it’s heavy and depressing is ridiculous. If all books without a happy ending were removed from the shelf, younger readers wouldn’t be prepared for the inevitable moment when their real lives disappoint them.”
“Disappointment happens,” said Sheldon. “Anyway, there’s more. Watch what happens when someone buys a book.”
He rushed back inside and removed James and the Giant Peach from its display shelf. With the book gone, a sign was revealed. It read, FREED BY A FEARLESS READER.
Sheldon was beaming when he returned to the sidewalk. “See? The hole in the glass amplifies our message that banned books need to be freed. We can fill a table with more banned titles for the sidewalk sale and another table can feature springtime titles.”
Nora grabbed Sheldon’s hand. “This is incredible. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’m shooting for employee of the month.”
“I have an idea too.” Nora hooked her arm though Sheldon’s and led him back into the store. “Imagine you’ve just entered the shop for the first time. You’re taking in all the books. The colors and signs. The shelf enhancers. You hear soft music. You smell coffee. You’re already relaxing. You’re also feeling a bit peckish. You follow the coffee scent trail until you reach the ticket agent’s office. You read the menu. The book pockets sound tasty, but they might not be substantial enough. Then, you see another item listed below the book pockets.”
“Which is?” Sheldon asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“The Shel Silverstein. Nutella on toasted bread. Cuban bread.”
Sheldon clapped his hands in glee. Suddenly, he stopped clapping and frowned. “Wait. Shel Silverstein is not Cuban. Did he even like Nutella?”
Nora shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. This treat is named after you, and it’s the only way to use your name while sticking to our literary theme. And I’m sure Shel Silverstein loved Nutella. He wrote about all kinds of food. Chocolate, peanut bu
tter, toast, sandwiches. We’ll just say this was the mystery sandwich in the ‘Cookwitch Sandwich.’ ”
“ ‘I heard that Katrina the Cook was a witch,’ ” Sheldon recited a line from the poem.
“‘Make me a sandwich, and ZAP—she did’!” continued Nora.
Sheldon smiled at her. “I’m honored. Thank you.”
“Excuse me?” a woman called from the front of the store.
Nora gestured for Sheldon to sit. “I’ve got this. You take a break. That’s an order.”
She walked to the front of the store where a middle-aged woman in a bright blue blouse and black dress pants was examining the banned books display.
“Hi,” Nora said. “Can I help you with anything?”
The woman pointed at the window. “I was walking by, and I stopped to look at your display. I was shocked to see that The Color Purple was repeatedly banned for sexually graphic and violent content. That book changed my life. It gave me courage. It gave me wings. It told me to fly away from an abusive situation, and I flew! It hurts to see it in that window.” She touched her chest. “It hurts right here.”
The woman was on the brink of tears. Nora grabbed a box of tissues from the checkout counter and offered them to the woman. She took the box and held it between her hands.
“I volunteer in a shelter for victims of domestic violence. I want to give The Color Purple to every one of these women. I want this book to be their wings. Do you have more copies?”
“Let me check my inventory,” Nora said. “In the meantime, why don’t you take the one in the window? I think you’ll like the message you find behind it.”
Nora’s inventory included two used copies and three new copies of The Color Purple. The woman bought them all and ordered several more. She also selected a dozen mala beads and added them to her book pile.
“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea for the road?” Nora asked. “It’s on me. A thank-you for helping other women. Sheldon is a brilliant barista. He’ll make whatever you want.”
The woman left her purchases on the counter and headed to the back.
As for Nora, she spent a long moment staring at the window. Sheldon’s banned books display had shown her that she could use an act of vandalism to the shop’s advantage. She could rise above the attack against her, against the word used against her. Like the books in the window, she could still have a positive effect on others. She could still thrive.
Nora grabbed the topmost book in the box Sheldon had set aside for the sidewalk sale. It was The Catcher in the Rye, and the sign accompanying it read, BANNED FOR PROFANITY, REFERENCES TO PROSTITUTION AND PREMARITAL SEX, ALCOHOLISM, AND MORE.
Nora stroked the red horse on the book’s cover, recalling the first time she’d met Holden Caulfield. Like the book’s hero, she’d been an angsty teen during her inaugural read and had understood Caulfield’s frustrations. When Nora revisited the novel in her late twenties, she identified with the hero’s love of books and his ability to truly value the special people in his life. In her thirties, Nora read the novel with fresh eyes and was grateful to Salinger for writing about the importance of taking the time to notice the world’s beauty.
“You have so much to offer,” she told the book as she tenderly placed it on the empty display shelf. “I hope you stay on high school reading lists until the end of time.”
By this point, The Color Purple customer had returned with her coffee. Steam escaped from the opening in her take-out cup, curling like a question mark.
“I’m going to take a picture of your window. I want my students and fellow teachers to see it in person. Art should make us think. It should make us question. It should make us feel. Your window is all that and a bag of chips.”
Nora said, “We’re going to have a table full of banned books during the sidewalk sale. If the staff or students from your school make a purchase, they’re entitled to a half-price beverage.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t serve Frappuccinos,” the woman said on her way out. “You’d have a line out the door.”
After the sleigh bells stopped clanging, Sheldon joined Nora by the checkout counter. “Do you think we should start—”
“No,” Nora answered. “No caffeinated milkshakes allowed. No blender will ever disturb the peace of this store.” She patted Sheldon’s arm. “Besides, you’re doing more than enough already. I don’t want you burning out because you have more ideas than energy.”
Sheldon feigned offense. “I bet Estella won’t dim the light of my star. I’m stopping by her salon on my way home.” He paused at the door. “Speaking of homes, I need to find one. If you hear any murmurs about a cute cottage hitting the market, call me.”
“That’s the kind of thing Estella would know,” Nora said.
By closing time, Nora was worn out. It had been an emotional day. She hadn’t heard from the sheriff and though she had complete faith in Deputy Wiggins, she didn’t expect her to solve the case. Someone had thrown a brick through the window in the dead of night. Nora didn’t have a security camera. Neither did the other businesses on her block. Even if the traffic signal at the end of the street had captured footage of the vandal, the man—or woman—had probably worn clothing to obscure their face.
Nora had just finished locking up for the night when the sheriff called.
“I wanted to touch base,” he said. “Deputy Wiggins is working hard, but I don’t want to mislead you. There’s not much to go on.”
“What about June’s case?”
“Same goes for hers, I’m afraid.” McCabe sighed. “I keep coming back to the idea that these aren’t random acts of violence. You and June are friends. The word painted on Ms. Dixon’s house. The word painted on the brick. They’re full of anger. Every letter looks angry. This person wants to scare both of you.”
“It worked,” said Nora. “But not completely. Not permanently. I’m nervous, but even more than that, I’m determined not to give in to fear. If I do, whoever threw that brick gains power over me, and I won’t allow that.”
The sheriff chuckled. “You’re a fierce and wonderful woman, Nora Pennington. I’ll call you tomorrow with another update.”
Grinning like a fool over McCabe’s compliment, Nora reached out to hit the light switch. Just then, someone knocked on the front door. She heard a dog bark. It was a friendly bark. It sounded like Henry Higgins. Following this bark was a second one. Nora didn’t think it came from the same dog because it was deep and wary.
Nora peeked out to find Jed standing on the sidewalk. He wasn’t alone. Deputy Wiggins was there, holding the end of a leash tethered to a gorgeous Doberman pinscher.
Unlocking the door, Nora tried to push aside a rush of guilt. She’d meant to call Jed after Sheldon left for the day. But then Sheriff McCabe had called, and their conversation had ended with her smiling. Pressing her lips together to hide the grin, she threw open the door. The force of her movement caused the sleigh bells to bang louder than ever.
“Sorry,” she said, seeing the dogs’ ears twitch. She quickly put her hand over the bells to stop the vibrations.
When the noise had died to a hum, she gave Jed an apologetic look. “I was going to call you on my way home.” She waved at the deputy. Wiggins waved back. “Do you have news?”
Jed pointed at the window. “This is about me. I just wanted to make sure you were okay—to see you in person instead of hearing everything through the work grapevine. I feel like the whole town knew about what happened to you except for me.”
Deputy Wiggins moved away from the front door, giving Jed a little privacy.
“Did you call your book club friends?” he demanded. “I bet you did.”
“Yes. I needed to warn them to be careful,” said Nora. “I wasn’t picking them over you. After what happened to June, I was worried that Hester or Estella could be targeted next.”
Judging by Jed’s rigid stance and the way he chewed on his lower lip, Nora’s response didn’t make him feel better. He wa
s angry.
“I wasn’t going to let the day end without talking to you,” she said.
“Well, I’ve seen you in person. You’re obviously okay,” Jed said in a tight voice. He began to turn away.
Nora didn’t want Jed to leave in a huff, so she pointed at the Doberman. “Who’s that good-looking fellow?”
Jed glanced at the dog. The Doberman’s coat reflected the glow of the streetlamps and his caramel eyes sparkled with intelligence. “Atticus. He and Henry are being trained to help the sheriff’s department. They’re learning to bring down a fleeing suspect or detain a perp until an officer can make an arrest. Officer Wiggins thinks some of Henry’s anxiety will go away if he’s given a purpose. Like humans, dogs need to be needed. They can be playmates, exercise buddies, full-time companions, therapy dogs, or working dogs. But they need an identity.”
Nora could see the wisdom in this. “How is Henry taking to it?”
Jed’s jaw relaxed. “He loves it. I haven’t seen him act like this since before the fire. He’s getting better around groups of people. As long as Atticus is close by, he’s not on edge like he used to be. These two have really bonded.”
Nora looked over Jed’s head at Deputy Wiggins. “Is he named after a famous Roman or Atticus Finch?”
“To Kill a Mockingbird is my favorite book,” said Wiggins. “My daddy read it to me when I was a kid. After we were finished, I told everyone to call me Scout.”
Nora smiled. “You remind me of her. You both have a stick-to-your-guns spirit.”
Wiggins was clearly pleased by the compliment. “I told Jed that he might have to call me Scout from now on. We won’t hear the end of it when our coworkers realize that Angela Wiggins is training Henry Higgins.”
Nora laughed. “Wiggins and Higgins. Sounds like a law firm.”
“I’d make a lousy lawyer. Too much desk time,” Wiggins said. “Speaking of work, I’d better get going. I want to get back to your case bright and early tomorrow.”