“SoFifty Shadeswas the gateway drug tothis!” I looked at Mike and he face-palmed.
“I’ve discovered an underground porn ring being run by my ex elementary-school teacher.” He sounded amused. “And to think I was embarrassed to buy a box of condoms in front of you!”
Mrs. Devereux smiled. “Do you really think I didn’t know what you two were doing, red lipstick smeared all over your necks like scarlet letters?” she said.
“Oh,” I mumbled.
She gave us both a knowing look and then casually took the other books out from behind the counter and started putting them into their fake covers, ready for collection.
Mike turned and looked at the women who were starting to emerge from behind the shelves. He waved at one of them. “Mrs. Christianson . . .” He waved at another one. “Mrs. Edwards. Hope you’re having a nice day.”
They smiled back at him and then both of them darted for the door.
“So, does everyone in town read these books?” Mike asked.
“Well, none of us know how to use the bloody Google, so we can’t do those Kindle things. Besides, those are terrible for your eyes, especially if you wear bifocals.”
And now I was in stitches. This was possibly the greatest thing I’d heard in ages, and Willow Bay was probably the strangest town I’d ever set foot in.
“So, if none of you know how to use ‘the bloody Google,’ how are you getting all these?” he asked.
She averted her gaze, looking sheepish. “You’ll have to ask Emelia about that.”
“Emelia? My Emelia? As in, Ash’s Emelia?” Mike asked.
“My lips are sealed.” Mrs. Devereux put her finger over her lips.
Suddenly, the door tinkled again. We all turned and an older woman walked in. She looked at Mike and then quickly closed the door and hurried off again.
“That’s Violet Masters. She likes Mafia,” Mrs. Devereux commented.
“Mafia?” Mike asked.
At that, she pushed over what had once been a Jodi Picoult, in its past life. Mike removed the cover and we both looked down at the book.
“Captured and Bound by the Bad Mafia Boss,” Mike read out, and then paused. “Wow. Just . . . wow. I’m not sure I have words for this.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Mrs. Devereux said.
“And who around here is into law enforcement? Like,Cuffed by the Cute Cop?” I teased, playfully.
Mrs. Devereux leaned across the table and smiled conspiratorially. “I think you’ll find that, around here, they’re all into that, dear.”
“Okay! Enough! Enough!” Mike threw his hands in the air. “Here, take your . . . your . . . uh . . .” He struggled to find the words.
“Erotic literature?” she offered up.
“I was going to say ‘porn,’ but, sure, erotic literature it is, then.” He handed her the book and she took it from him.
“And you?” Mrs. Devereux turned her attention to me. “What are you into, dear?”
“Oh God,” Mike mumbled, under his breath.
“Uh . . . Well, I don’t know, actually,” I said. “What would you recommend?”
She looked me up and down for a few moments and then clicked her fingers together. “I think I have an idea.” She bent down and disappeared behind the counter, only to emerge with a book. “What about this, dear?”
She passed it to me and I took its fake cover off. I suspected that Donna Tartt would be utterly appalled if she could see what secretthis Secret Historywas hiding.
