The Book Charmer

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The Book Charmer Page 12

by Karen Hawkins


  “Are you renting to anyone we know?” Kat asked curiously.

  “No. Her name is Sofia Rodriguez and she’s new to the area. I’m hoping she’ll work for me.”

  “You could use the help,” Kat said. “If you’re leaving now, I’ll come with you. I parked beside your truck.” Kat looked at Sarah. “I’m meeting Ellen Jameson. She’s putting her house on the market. She took a job in Charlotte and it’s too much of a commute.”

  Sarah winced. “She’s lived here her entire life.”

  “She hates leaving, but she has no choice. Dr. Lynn retired and is closing his office, and there are no other nursing positions in this area. She tried to get a job in Asheville, but she needed a day shift because of her kids, and there weren’t any, so Charlotte it is.”

  Zoe didn’t look happy. “I hate that.”

  “Me too,” Kat admitted. “But it is what it is. I’ll see you all at the next meeting.” With a wave, she and Ava left, walking together to the library parking lot.

  Zoe didn’t wait for them to get out of sight before she held out the book. “I’m not taking this stupid book. No one in Dove Pond speaks Italian and I’m not going to Italy.”

  Sarah shrugged but made no move to reclaim the book.

  Zoe shook it. “Come on!”

  “Nope.”

  “Just take it. I’m not going to read it.”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Good God, you are a stubborn woman, do you know that?”

  “I do. I’m rather proud of that fact.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes and slid the book on top of the fat file. “You are just as weird now as you were in high school.”

  Sarah grinned. “Thanks.”

  “You— Ugh!” Zoe regarded Sarah narrowly. “Tell me something. You seem awfully determined to see Grace Wheeler take her place at the helm of our little club. More than the rest of us. What do you know that the rest of us don’t?”

  Sarah briefly toyed with the idea of telling Zoe about the signs she’d seen that Grace was going to help save Dove Pond, but then thought better of it. Zoe wasn’t the type to buy into something she couldn’t touch, so Sarah just shrugged. “Our town needs her. We need her. You know how bad things are getting. You, of all people, can see that our town is in decline.”

  Zoe frowned. “And you think the festival income can patch that hole?”

  “No, but—” Oh sheesh, how could she put this? “I think Grace can fix things for Dove Pond, and not just with the festivals.”

  “How? From what I’ve heard, before she came here, she worked with a wealth management firm. If there’s one thing Dove Pond doesn’t have, it’s wealth.”

  “I don’t know how it’s going to work. I just know it can and will.”

  Zoe snorted. “You’re an odd bird, Sarah Dove.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Thanks.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes and then headed down the stairs, stopping when she reached the sidewalk. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and let you know what’s going on. But first I need to do a dry run so I’ll have an idea how far we’ll need to take things.”

  “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve come up with, although I’m sure it’ll work. The only person in this town more stubborn than me is you.”

  A reluctant grin touched Zoe’s wide mouth. “That’s the truest thing you’ve said all afternoon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the mayor that he doesn’t know about.”

  “Go ahead. I’ve got to get ready for Children’s Hour and I haven’t picked a book yet.”

  Zoe waved as she left and was soon across the street, heading to the bank. When she reached the planter in front of town hall, she slowed, as if surprised by something. After a moment, she shrugged and continued on her way.

  Sarah looked at the flowers. They were now mottled, partially caught between a weak green color and their former glorious purple, every bit as confused as the members of the social club. Don’t worry, she told herself. We’ll get her back on track.

  Or so Sarah hoped. The way Grace had marched into their meeting and so quickly divested herself of her responsibilities was a setback. Even if Zoe did manage to get the mayor to put Grace back in charge of their festival planning, someone would have to make sure she understood the importance of their endeavors, not to mention the peril their little town was in.

  But it was more than that. The journal had said that Grace had to stay in Dove Pond forever. And for that to happen, she had to care. She had to care about the town and its people, and she had to become a true part of Dove Pond.

  That, apparently, was Sarah’s job, and she had no idea how to make it happen.

  Not yet, anyway. “But I’ll find a way,” she muttered to herself as she went back into the lovely quiet of the library. “I have to.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Grace

  Grace parked her car beside the green pickup truck in her driveway, grabbed her satchel and purse, and headed up the walkway. What a lousy, lousy day. She’d hoped to spend at least part of her morning going through the annual budget, a copy of which she’d found in a dusty folder labeled STUFF, but she’d had no chance. The mayor had forgotten to mention until this morning that an important state tax report was due by five; no fewer than twelve people had showed up with various questions she couldn’t answer about the new county business license requirements; and the phone had rung off the hook. It was a good thing she’d handed off the social club last week, because she had no time to plan a party or a festival or whatever they wanted to call it.

  Still, Grace couldn’t help feeling a tiny pinch of guilt for walking away from a responsibility, even one as frivolous as the Dove Pond Social Club.

  She reached the porch and had just put her foot on the bottom step when Linda came out, the screen door slamming shut behind her. Large-boned, as broad of shoulder as she was of waist, Linda Robinson looked more like a linebacker than a home care assistant. Grace smiled at her; she couldn’t have asked for a better caretaker. “Hi, Linda. Sorry I’m late.”

  “Pssht.” Linda’s brown hair, thick and curly, framed her round, freckled face like a halo. “Ten or fifteen minutes isn’t going to kill me. Besides, you were kind enough to call ahead and let me know, which is all I ask.”

  “I still feel bad. I tried to get out of the office, but the tax mailers went out a few days ago, so I had a ton of phone calls.”

  Linda clicked her tongue in sympathy. “No one likes to pay taxes.”

  “I don’t either, but I like good public schools, drivable roads, and a fire department that can do more than make an annual calendar.”

  “I don’t know,” Linda said thoughtfully. “That calendar is pretty sweet. My daughter, Missy, bought six, one for her and five for her friends. The school won’t let them hang pictures of bare-chested men in their lockers, so she and her friends cut out little outfits for them. I think they enjoyed that even more than the calendar.”

  Grace laughed. “If Missy likes the calendar, then it must be cool. I need to order a copy.”

  “You’d better hurry. They go fast. By the way, speaking of tasty treats, your momma had her dinner a half hour ago, but Daisy wouldn’t eat. She’s in the backyard right now, looking for crayfish in the creek.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets her dinner. She gets hangry fast.”

  “So do I, which is why I’m heading home now. Mark cooks like an angel. He called a few minutes ago and said something about a roast he made from a recipe he got off some cooking show. I don’t know what he said after that, because my stomach growled so loud it blocked my ears.”

  “I wish I had someone to cook for me.”

  “But you do. I left stew on the stove for your dinner.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s not the same as having a special someone cook for you, though. When we first started dating, Mark made me a chocolate torte that almost gave me an orgasm. I knew I had to marry him then. I was not going to let a man who cou
ld cook like that get away.”

  “I might be tempted to chase after a man like that, too. Mama G used to do all the cooking, but I do most of it now and I’m not very good at it.” It stung to admit she wasn’t good at something, but well, there it was. “I’m learning. Or trying to, anyway.”

  “I’m sure you do fine. Do you mind walking with me to the truck? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  All Grace wanted to do was go into the house, sink into a chair, and put her feet up. But Linda looked so concerned that Grace set her satchel and purse on the porch and then came back to fall into step beside her. “What’s up? You’re not going to quit, are you? Because if you are, I’m going to need a drink.”

  “I don’t even know what the word quit means. No, I’m just worried about something and didn’t want little ears overhearing.” Linda glanced at Grace, and her face softened. “I know it’s been a rough few months for all of you. I can see it in your faces. But the fact is, Mama G is not going to get better. She’s going to be harder and harder to take care of.”

  “I know, but she’s calmer here than she was in her home in Whitlow. She has so many memories of this house and she’s not nearly as agitated as she was.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s not Mama G I’m worried about.” Linda stopped by her truck and turned to face Grace. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Look, I don’t mean to pry, but becoming a new mother, even of a child as old as Daisy, is a lot of work and stress. And in addition, you’re trying to deal with Mama G, and you have a new job— Sweetheart, you’ve got more plates in the air than you’ve arms. Do you have family or friends that live nearby? Someone you can lean on now and then?”

  Grace briefly thought about arguing that she could handle all her “plates,” but the genuine concern on Linda’s face quashed the idea. Linda was only saying what Grace had begun to think—that she was in over her head. “There aren’t many members of our family left. Mrs. Phelps was the last of Mama G’s relatives to live here and my sister, Hannah—” It still hurt to say died. As if in saying it, Grace was making it more final. It’s final enough as it is. She shrugged. “Now there’s just me, Mama G, and Daisy. But trust me, whatever happens, I’ll take good care of them.”

  “I know you will, but you’re going to need support. Emotional support.”

  “I can handle it. I’m sure of it.”

  Linda raised her plucked, pencil-thin eyebrows. “You think you can, I know. But do you understand what you’re about to face? You’re about to head into some deep, deep waters, the likes of which you’ve never seen. And from what I can tell, there’s no one rowing your boat but you.”

  “I’m a good rower.”

  “I’m sure you are. But we’re talking waves bigger than you. You’re going to need more than one set of hands on those oars to make it, because believe me, before it’s over, it’s going to get tough.”

  Grace’s stomach sank. “That’s grim.”

  “Because it is. Look, I’m not trying to scare you, but I’ve been doing this job for almost twenty years and I’ve taken care of a lot of mothers and fathers who’ve fought the same battle Mama G is fighting. As hard as it is on those poor souls, it’s harder on their children. It hurts like the deepest cut to watch your parents fade away. One of my clients said it was like trying to hold sand in her fingers; no matter how tightly she gripped, she couldn’t hold it in place.”

  Fade away. That’s exactly how it felt. Grace had to clear her throat before she could speak. “It’s not easy, but I’ve faced rough water before. More than most people, in fact, so I know we’ll find a way through this.” They had to. She’d find a way. She’d always found a way, and she wasn’t going to stop now.

  Still, behind her thoughts hovered a shimmering, panic-colored cloud that she refused to examine too closely. What will I do when Mama G no longer knows me? Because then I’ll be alone. Really alone.

  She’d have Daisy, of course, but they were still painfully new to each other in the role of parent and child, both struggling to figure things out. And even if they managed to jell into a real family, that didn’t change the bald truth about Mama G. Her time with them was limited.

  Tears flooded Grace’s eyes and she clenched her hands into fists and wished she owned a punching bag. A real one. One she could beat the living daylights out of. Time was much too short of a word. And it got smaller still when you cut it down into countable hours, and then racing minutes, and finally into desperately minuscule seconds. Eventually, there was nothing left. That was what was happening to Mama G right now—she was being sliced away, one memory at a time, and it made Grace sick to her soul and so furious she could spit nails.

  Linda put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “It’s hard, I know.”

  Grace forced her dark thoughts away. As much as she liked Linda, the weight of her hand made Grace cringe. If she cried, she might never stop.

  She moved slightly, and Linda let her hand drop back to her side. Grace managed to blink away her tears and keep her voice even as she said, “You’re sweet to worry, but I’m going to be okay. I have to be. In a weird way, that helps.”

  Linda’s smile seemed pained, but she threw up her hands. “Okay, then. I just wish you had more of a support team, that’s all.”

  Desperate to change the subject, Grace said, “How was Mama G today?”

  “Good. We only had one bad hour. She woke up from her nap irritated and then we couldn’t find the remote for the TV.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “Yes, in the bathroom sink.”

  “She keeps putting it in the weirdest places.”

  “Most likely she’s having trouble remembering what it’s for and she doesn’t want to admit it, so she hides it. I’ve had patients get paranoid that people were trying to steal their things, too, although that doesn’t seem to be the case this time.” Linda opened the door of her pickup and set her bag on the seat. “Right now, Mama G’s memory is like the ocean. It comes and goes, high tide and low tide. But each time, the beach erodes a little bit more.”

  “I see.” And Grace did see, although she wished she didn’t.

  “When you find the remote or a spoon or a toothbrush or whatever stashed in the wrong place, that could be a sign that she needs help using it from now on.”

  “I’ll pay attention.”

  “I know you will. What she needs more than anything right now is to know she is going to be okay. She needs to hear that as often as you can work it into the conversation.”

  Grace tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ve been trying to do that, but I’ll amp it up.”

  “You’re doing great. I hope I didn’t upset you by saying something. I just don’t want you to get burned out. I— Oh! I almost forgot. There is some good news.”

  “Thank God. I could use some good news.”

  “Sarah Dove left you a book.” Linda said the words in the exact same reverentially thrilled tone in which someone might announce, You won the lottery! “I left it in the kitchen.”

  Grace had to fight a “big deal” shrug. “That was nice of her but, to be honest, I think I’ve read just about every book there is on Alzheimer’s. When Mama G was first diagnosed, I bought them all.”

  “It’s not about Alzheimer’s. It’s fiction.” Linda beamed as if that made more sense. “When I was in middle school, I checked that exact same book out of the library. I know it’s the same book, because I accidentally splashed hot chocolate on it, and try as I might, I couldn’t get the stain out. I thought Mrs. Farmer, the librarian at the time, might shoot me when she saw it, but she just shook her head and put the book back on the return cart.”

  Great. A stained library book. That’s just wonderful. “I’m surprised Sarah sent me a book. I don’t even have a library card.”

  “Sarah never worries about that. If there’s a book she thinks you need, you’ll get it.”

  “Really? How many books a year doe
s she lose, doing that?”

  “None. Trust me, she knows where her books are. More than that, they know where she is.” Linda’s pointed brows lowered the faintest bit, her gaze narrowing. “You do know about Sarah and her books, don’t you?”

  “She’s the town librarian. What more should I know?”

  Linda looked astounded. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit! You’ve lived here for almost three weeks and no one has told you about the Doves? Not Mrs. Phelps? Not the mayor? Not anyone?”

  “The mayor never tells me anything except that he’s going fishing. Before she left, Mrs. Phelps did mention that one of the Doves—Ava, I think it was—would get mad if I didn’t keep the yard up. But that’s it.” Well, there’d been a little more than that, but it had been odd and vague, and at the time, Grace had been focusing on other things, like trying to keep her sanity.

  Linda tsked. “And here you are, practically next-door neighbors with Sarah, plus you’re both in the social club, so you see her all the time, too, and yet no one has told you about her.”

  It looked like the Dove Pond town gossips were rather inept. Not only had they forgotten to share some sort of salacious tidbit about Sarah, but they also seemed to have missed Grace’s departure from the social club, which was fine with her. “I’ve been working a lot lately, so I haven’t had the chance to speak to many people, including Sarah.”

  “I don’t care if you work a hundred hours a week—you should still speak to her. If it were me, I’d talk to her so much she’d ask me not to.” Linda paused, as if collecting her thoughts. “You should know about this. The Doves are special.”

  “Special,” Grace repeated, wondering where this was going.

  “Yes. They founded this town, but more than that, they’ve kept it alive. And they’re . . . well, they’re special. Each in their own way, too.”

  “Wouldn’t you say most people are ‘special in their own way’?”

  Linda shook her head emphatically. “Not like this. This is a kind of special you don’t normally see. Take Sarah, for example.” Linda leaned closer and said in a reverential tone, “Sarah Dove is a book charmer.”

 

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