News that Tyler had been arrested spread around town like an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Everyone was talking about the case, from Rodney at the chamber of commerce to the tourists in line at Cheesy Does It to the employees at the post office.
Everyone seemingly had something to say about Tyler. They talked about his many girlfriends, his underhanded business dealings, his nonpayment of debt. How his rich father had bailed him out of all sorts of scrapes, including, but not limited to, a DUI in another county, a fist fight at a strip club, and fishing without a license.
He was worse than even I imagined, which was no small feat.
All of this, of course, was difficult for Vera, who worked on bookstore stuff from home for the rest of the weekend. She practically barricaded herself in her room and refused my offer of picking up burritos at her favorite spot.
On Monday morning, she asked if we could drive into the bookstore together.
A good sign, I hoped.
After I finished my coffee, I quickly showered, changed into a cute dress, and we headed to the bookstore. Vera locked the door behind us and switched on a single floor lamp. For some reason, she didn’t turn on the overhead lights and, because we had brown paper over the windows, it was like a cave inside. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness after being in the bright Florida sunshine.
Vera immediately went to work reshelving a column of books while I watched, bemused.
“You don’t want the historicals closer to the door?” I asked.
“No, I want to switch out with paranormal.”
“OK, up to you, of course. Vera, weren’t we going to take the brown paper down from the windows today, so people can see your beautiful display?”
“I think we should wait until the night of our party.” She pushed a book onto the shelf and didn’t look at me.
“But we were going to create buzz before the soft opening.”
She lifted a shoulder and straightened two books. “Do you like five books and then a stack of books facing out, or should it be six? Maybe we should postpone the opening.”
“Hey. Look at me. Why don’t you want to show off the window? It’s gorgeous.”
The window space in this store was one of the largest on the block, and the display she’d created was exquisite. It showcased a two-cubby bookshelf she’d painted herself in the perfect shade of distressed white. It was stuffed with hardcover books, with two titles displayed on top. There was also a comfy-looking wingback chair in gold, and a small matching white table. On top of the table was a rose-patterned teapot, cup, and saucer.
We’d had a local florist deliver a stunning bouquet of pink roses that almost perfectly matched the teapot, but they sat on the counter, near the cash-register-slash-computer.
Vera turned to face me. “I don’t want people staring at me. What if they know about me and Tyler?”
I threw my hands in the air and paced. I didn’t want to remind her that no one knew she and Tyler had been dating, since he hadn’t taken her out anywhere in town. That was exactly the wrong thing to say, so I tried something different. “We’re opening the store in days. People are going to come in and they’re going to look at you. You’re going to have to put on your big girl panties and deal. I’m sorry.”
“I know, but right now I feel awkward. Embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Tyler should be embarrassed and ashamed for what he did to you and this entire town. Let that douchenozzle stew in prison. We need to put all of this behind us and concentrate on the future.”
“But how can I when I’m still a suspect?”
I stopped pacing and gnawed on my lip, wondering if I should pay Alex Holt a visit. “No news is good news. And I assume that if they thought they had enough evidence on you, they would have arrested you by now. Right now, you need to focus on opening the store.”
She swallowed hard, and I knew she was on the verge of tears.
“C’mon, Vera. Let’s take the paper down from the window and put the flowers out. People will love it, and their reaction will cheer you up. You’ll see.”
“OK. I can do this.” She shuddered in a breath.
“Yes, you can.”
I carefully stepped onto the raised platform in front of the window, trying not to disturb anything. Vera stood with her hands on her hips, watching me, as I gingerly removed the tape from the brown paper that covered the windows.
Once the paper was down, a bright ray of sun flooded the store. She handed me the vase of flowers, and I set it on top of the bookcase, next to a beautiful hardcover copy ofPride and Prejudice—the one that Vera and I had read when we were teens. The book was nestled safely under a glass display dome.
It had been our mother’s book, and through it she was guarding the store.
