Welcome to Nevermore Bookshop

by Steffanie Holmes

  I sucked in a breath. “She told me that the degeneration in my retina is occurring at a faster rate than my New York doctor initially thought. She believes I have around eighteen months left before I lose my sight completely.”

  Mum wailed. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dropping onto the ‘Soapgasm’ posters spread across the table. I rested my hand on hers, making a mental note to tease her about that horrible name at a later point.

  “It’s okay. It truly is. When I was trapped in the house this weekend, it made me realize that everything I’ve been so afraid of was going to happen, and I could handle it. All the stuff I thought was important isn’t what really matters in life. I might not be able to be a fashion designer anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to curl up into a corner and die. That’s not me, and I’m sick of acting like it is. So please don’t cry. Because I’m done crying about it.”

  “Oh, Mina.” Mum’s tears dripped on my arm. “You’re handling this so well.”

  “I’m not really, but I’m trying to get better.” I gave her a weak smile. “With that said, I’ve decided that I’m moving out.”

  What?

  I am?

  The words just fell out of my mouth. I hadn’t intended to say them, but as soon as they hung in the air between us I knew they were right.

  “You’re… what?” Mum’s mouth twisted in confusion.

  “I’m moving out. I can’t live here anymore. I’m twenty-three years old. I lived on my own for four years in a foreign country. I can’t expect to move back into your space and be happy. I need to be independent.”

  “But who’s going to look after you?”

  “I am,” I said. “I realized that ever since I got the news, I’ve been so busy moping and mourning that I haven’t done any thinking about how I’m going to live after I lose my sight. I don’t have that luxury anymore. And you know what? People have been living without their eyesight for thousands of years and doing awesome things. James Holman circumnavigated the globe on foot. Helen Keller was a political activist. Stevie Wonder captivates millions with his music. I’ve been reading about this bloke called Homer, who wrote the most famous story in the world.”

  Mum’s brow furrowed. “Some blind bloke wrote Wonky Donkey? Did he draw the pictures, too?”

  “Um… yes. Sure he did. My point is, if they can deal, so can I.” I pushed a pamphlet across the table to her. “Dr. Clements gave me this. These are programs that will teach me how to use a cane and go shopping and even put my makeup on when I can’t see. And I could have a guide dog. I’ve always wanted a puppy!”

  Mum picked up one of Dr. Clements’ glossy brochures. “These look so expensive, Mina.”

  “There’s funding available to help get the equipment I need, and anything else I’ll just have to save up for. Luckily, I’ve learned some pretty neat tricks if I ever need an additional income stream,” I grinned at her. “It’s time that I stopped moping about what I can’t change and start embracing the good things in my life.”

  “But moving out is such a big step… are you sure about this?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” I picked up one of her posters. “Except that ‘Soapgasm’ is a terrible name. What were you thinking? Can I redraw these for you? Seriously, they’re terrible.”

  She threw her arms around me. “Oh, Mina. I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Me too.”

  “Let’s never fight again.” Mum planted a kiss on my forehead. “What about your father?”

  I reached into my pocket and touched the note. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m ready to reach out to him just yet. But I need to count on your support if I decide to. Just because you don’t want a relationship with him, doesn’t mean I don’t.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I grinned. “If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Mum’s smile lit up our dingy kitchen. “Now that I’ve got you back, can I just ask one important question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you going to marry James Moriarty? Because it would be much easier to get all the equipment if you had a rich husband to pay for it all. And maybe he could get me a new car while he was at it. Oh, and one of those tubs that massage your feet while you watch the telly, and a mink coat, and a Tiffany necklace…”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Excuse me.” A customer approached the desk and set down a children’s paperback adventure book. “I purchased this book about a month ago.”

  “Yes, I remember you.” I smiled. I’d sold the woman a racy reverse harem romance by KT Strange for her beach holiday, and the adventure story for her niece. “Did your niece enjoy her present?”

  “Oh, she hasn’t taken her head out of that book I gave her,” the woman smiled. “That’s not what I came about. I’m not happy with the choice you made for me. I wanted to get lost in a whirlwind romance, but I finished this book in a matter of minutes and let me tell you, the plot was rather juvenile and I didn’t feel the love interest at all. Next time, you need to listen to what a customer is asking for and—”

  “Um…” I stared at the cover, struggling to contain my laughter. “Ma’am, this is the book we chose for your niece. The book you gave her was supposed to be for you.”

  “Oh.” The woman raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no.”

  She dropped the book on the counter and dashed off. Unable to contain myself any longer, I collapsed into giggles. Heathcliff looked over the top of his book.

  “Don’t mind me.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “It feels good to be back in the shop.”

  It was good. Hayes had already stopped in to let us know that Christina would be going to a psychiatric facility, which seemed like the best solution. I hoped they’d let her keep her bonnets. The tear in Gerald’s shirt cuff matched a scrap of fabric found at one of the previous Argleton Jewel Thief scenes, and a search of his house revealed a stash of jewels nicked from the homes of his British Heritage clients. Hannah dumped him and had started frequenting the shop, much to Heathcliff’s dismay and my delight. Morrie hadn’t called Quoth ‘little birdie’ once, and the boys were bickering less than usual. Lydia was as annoying as ever, but she’d spent most of her time exploring the village and sorting out her newest scheme, so we’d hardly had to worry about her. The only thing that could have improved life was if Heathcliff would hang some Christmas decorations.

  BANG. BANG. BANG. Lydia dragged an oversized suitcase down the stairs. Morrie had made the mistake of lending her his credit card so she could buy an appropriate wardrobe. Although considering where she was going, perhaps it was good she got some practice lifting heavy things.

  “I still can’t believe you joined the army,” I admonished her.

  “Oh, Mina, stop fussing. It will be such good fun!” Lydia clapped her hands. “If I’m to find a soldier to marry me, I must go where the soldiers are. Besides, I thought you’d be pleased that I am throwing off the patriarchal yoke and taking the King’s shilling—”

  “It’s actually the Queen’s shilling now,” I pointed out.

  “Don’t vex me with your feminism on today of all days!” Lydia spun around, revealing the tailored scarlet military jacket with gold braid and epaulets she’d purchased from Mrs. Maitland. “Don’t I look absolutely stunning? Don’t you think I shall land myself a wonderful soldier to marry?”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she’d be in fatigues as soon as she arrived on the base. Some problems were not mine to solve. “Sure, Lydia. You look amazing.”

  “Well, won’t you all see me off, then?” She thrust her hands on her hips.

  “Goodbye,” Heathcliff muttered, without looking up from his book. From his perch on top of the chandelier, Quoth shook his head vehemently.

  Excellent self-preservation skills, I said inside my head. You’re much safer up there.

  Morrie slumped over and wrapped his arms around her. “Good luck, Lydia,” he said. “We’
re going to miss your annoying face around here.”

  “Does that mean you wish I could stay?” Lydia batted her eyelashes at Morrie.

  “No!” yelled Heathcliff, Morrie, and I in unison.

  “Croak!” seconded Quoth.

  “Meow!” added Grimalkin, for good measure.

  Lydia laughed. She threw her arms around me. “I shall miss you most of all, Mina. You remind me a little of my older sister Lizzie, although not as bossy or plain. I still can’t believe she marries that Mr. Darcy.”

  I laughed. “I’ll miss you too, Lydia. You come visit if you’re ever back in Argleton.”

  “I shan't think so. Not for a very long time!” She blew kisses as she hurried into the street to place her bags in the back of a waiting rideshare. I watched her go, half of me terrified she wouldn’t last an hour, the other half certain she’d be a general in no time.

  As soon as her car backed away from the curb and took off down the street, Morrie slumped into a chair. “Thank the gods.”

  I smiled. “Hey, we all liked Lydia in the end.”

  “I’ve run the most successful criminal empire in the developed world, but that woman tries my every nerve.” He lifted a limp hand to me. “Fetch me a cup of tea, would you?”

  “Fetch it yourself.” I punched him in the arm. “I have some boxes to unpack.”

  “How can you have more stuff for Jo’s apartment?” Morrie had helped me move into the spare room at Jo’s house last night. It was a tiny room, barely big enough for the single bed I’d found on Gumtree and a rack of clothing. But it was a palace compared to my last room, which wasn’t a room at all, but a conservatory with the windows taped over with cardboard. Jo’s place was amazing – she had a rain shower and heating and an espresso machine in the kitchen (and an anatomical skeleton in the bathroom, but we won’t talk about that), and absolutely no mother in sight.

  “I told her, she should have just moved in here,” Heathcliff muttered, turning the page.

  I’d been sorely tempted when he made the offer, but in my heart, I knew I wasn’t ready to accept. We may have all said the three scary words, but everything with me and the guys was still so complicated. I needed time to be on my own in the world before I took that step. But at least Jo lived nearby, so I could come and see them any time I wanted, without forking out a fortune for rideshares or walking through my old, scary neighborhood.

  “Nope, not more clothes.” I dragged a box from behind the desk. “Christmas decorations.”

  “No.” Heathcliff’s book clattered to the floor.

  “Yes!” I threw open the box, revealing strings of bright, glittering tinsel. Instantly, my eyes were drawn to the iridescent colors, and the rest of the room fell into shadow. “It’s my mum’s newest scheme. Apparently, Sylvia’s shop’s been shut down by a hazmat team after one of their make-your-own-soap kits exploded. So now she’s selling these ‘designer’ Christmas decorations at a two hundred percent markup.” I held up a string of tinsel hung with miniature books. “Take the other end of this. We’re going to hang it along the front of Heathcliff’s desk.”

  “No, we’re not.” Heathcliff folded his arms.

  “Yes. We are. No arguments. No more Ms. Nice Mina. If I’m going to stay working here, you’re going to let me try my creative ideas. I need this shop to turn a profit so I can earn some more money, because I’m in need of adaptive equipment and a guide dog. And also a new pair of Docs.”

  “Meow?” Grimalkin’s head popped up from behind the armadillo, her whiskers twitching with concern.

  “Don’t worry, kitty,” I patted Grimalkin’s head. “I promise my doggo won’t chase you.”

  “Meow!” Grimalkin swiped at the tinsel, attacking one of the tiny books with her teeth, as if trying to demonstrate what would happen to any guide dog that dared cross the threshold of the shop.

  “Where’s all this sass coming from?” Morrie asked as he shoved Heathcliff aside to hold up the tinsel. “Don’t get me wrong, it excites me. It’s just not like you to lay down the law.”

  “It’s coming from me. I’ve decided I don’t want to end up like Christina.”

  “You mean, locked away in an institution tal?” Heathcliff ventured with a twinkle in his eye. “Telling some cock’n’bull story about how a raven transformed into a man?”

  “Croak!” added Quoth proudly.

  “Or do you mean a sword-wielding maniac? I think we can all agree that isn’t the ideal outcome for any situation.” Morrie rubbed his chin. “You’re way too uncoordinated for a sword.”

  I kicked out my leg and pretended to swing at him. Unfortunately, I misjudged the angle and ended up swinging so far forward that I lost my balance and fell over.

  “Fine. I concede your point.” I held up my hand, and Morrie helped me up. “There are only two sword-wielding maniacs around here, and it’s you two. I’m just sorry I didn’t get to see you in action.”

  “Next time,” Heathcliff promised.

  “I blame the bird,” Morrie added. “If it wasn’t for him saving the day, I’d have been able to show off my double riposte with spinning jump kick.”

  “Croak!”

  I laughed. “What I meant was, Christina was so consumed by inaction. She couldn’t face up to her father and the things he’d done, so she continued to exist in the box he stuffed her into, until one day she just snapped. I realized I’d been doing that with my eyes, putting myself into this box where I couldn’t enjoy the things I loved without vision. And I’ve been ignoring things I didn’t want to think about, like the time-travelling room and meeting Victoria and my father’s letter and this whole ‘covered in blood’ thing. Now I see how limiting it is to put yourself in a box and hide away, how Christina couldn’t see a world where she just told her father, ‘I’m gay, and I hate Jane Austen’, and lived her own life. And now, she’ll never get that chance.”

  “In an odd way, I admire her,” Morrie said, holding up a little shepherd figurine. “She created a little welcome chaos around here. Oooh, a nativity scene. Can we put this over on that table?”

  “Yes. I actually had an idea that we could make a stable out of books.” I stacked two hardcovers on their sides and placed a third on top to make a roof. Morrie arranged the porcelain figures inside.

  And the armadillo could be God. Quoth shoved him into place with his beak.

  “No,” Heathcliff growled.

  I ignored him. “And then we just need the baby Jesus and… Morrie! You can’t have Joseph and the first wise man snogging!”

  “Why not? I thought that was the sort of thing that went on in barns,” Morrie grinned wickedly.

  “Not this one.” I moved the figures back into place, and grinned at Heathcliff. “You haven’t said much about Christina. I remember you feeling empathy for her when you saw how much she feared her father.”

  Heathcliff shifted in his chair. “Don’t remind me. I just wish that fear hadn’t turned her ugly.”

  I thought I knew what he was alluding to, but I wanted him to talk about it. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Hindley,” Heathcliff breathed. The word seethed against my skin, carrying all Heathcliff’s malice with it. “All my life he treated me with cruelty. He said I was a monster and I believed it. How could I not, when I was so different from all of them at Wuthering Heights? When I heard Cathy say that she could never marry me, of course I knew it was because of this,” he rubbed his cheek, indicating his dark skin. “Christina’s father treated her in a different but no less destructive way. He made her into a monster. She deserved to be free of him.”

  “But did she have to kill Alice?”

  “Of course not. She was desperate. I could understand that. I can’t forgive it, but I can understand.”

  The shop bell tinkled, interrupting our conversation. Quoth shrunk into a corner. Heathcliff picked up his book and indicated I should deal with the customer.

  A man entered the room, wearing a sharp suit and pressed white shirt. He w
as handsome in a real-estate agent kind of way – slick hair and boyish features. He marched straight up to the counter and extended his hand to Heathcliff.

  “Biographies are up the stairs and to the left,” Heathcliff muttered without even looking up. He knew the sort.

  “Ah, but what if I don’t want a biography?”

  “Then get out.” Heathcliff turned the page.

  The man laughed, extending out a hand. “Mr. Heathcliff, sir. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Grey Lachlan. Let me guess, that tall fellow is James Moriarty. And you must be the indomitable Miss Mina Wilde.”

  He turned to me with his slick smile, and a strange wobbly feeling settled in my stomach. Instantly, I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide from this man, but I couldn’t say why.

  If Grey Lachlan sensed my unease, he didn’t acknowledge it. His grin spread wide across his earnest face. “My wife has told me how you all solved the murder of her friend Gladys and saved the Jane Austen Experience. We’re incredibly grateful.”

  “Yes, well.” Heathcliff sat down and folded his hands across his chest. “Biographies are up the stairs and to the left.”

  “No, no. I’ve come for something even better than books.” Grey Lachlan set his briefcase on the counter and plunged his hands into the depths. He pulled out an envelope and set it on the table in front of Heathcliff. I started when I noticed the envelope was sealed with wax. “I would like to buy your bookshop. And I’m willing to make you an offer you cannot refuse.”

  “Think again,” Heathcliff growled. “I refuse.”

  Grey waved the envelope in front of his face. “You should look inside, Mr. Heathcliff.”

  “No.”

  Grey sighed. He dropped the envelope on the desk. “Let me be clear. I’m a powerful man, more powerful than you could ever imagine. You do not want me as an enemy. If you do not cooperate with me, I have other means at my disposal. I suggest you give this offer due consideration, because I will have Nevermore Bookshop, even if I have to step over your dead bodies to get it.”