Page 14

Seven

Shit.

I never slept in. Without time to worry about whether the alarm didn’t go off or I somehow slept through it, I tossed on a sundress, skipped makeup and made it to the shop ten minutes before opening. Thankfully, I’d finished the display already and mornings were usually slow, except for weekends.

“Oh thank goodness.”

I’d just put Father Simon’s chronicle under the front counter—the plan I’d hatched late last night likely the reason I’d slept in—when Mazzie pushed the front door open.

The Boots and Brews owner headed straight for my coffee station and made herself a cup of brew.

“Somehow I don’t have Nolan’s cell number. I have a bit of an emergency and need his help.”

Before I could even answer, the door opened and two customers came inside, laughing in a way that told me they were tourists. Most locals wouldn’t be so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this early on a weekday. I greeted them as they headed toward my ‘new release’ display.

Heading behind the counter, I took a sip of coffee and sat on the stool, thoughts of Riven and Rowan … and Nolan’s hug … never far from my mind.

“He’s not at the store?”

“It’s closed.”

I looked at my phone. “That’s odd.”

“Not really,” she watched as the two friends headed into the stacks. “Transformers are out on their block again.”

I winced. He wouldn’t be thrilled about that. I’m surprised he’s not climbing the pole himself to fix it. So what’s the emergency?”

“Excuse me. Any chance you have Dark Flight by James Blatch? My boyfriend loves him.”

One woman emerged to ask, and I was happy to tell her we did. Sending her to the right spot, I answered Mazzie’s unasked question. “A cold war aviation thriller. I started carrying it when my dad wouldn’t stop talking about how much he loved it. He follows the author on social media and shows me his videos 24/7. So, about that emergency?”

“Something’s up with the stereo system, and I have a guy coming all the way from Maine. A banjo player Gian and I saw up there last month. He’s incredible. Writes books too … you should come and meet him.”

“What’s his name?” I was already into the system to look him up. My favorite books to carry were ones that came from personal recommendations.

“Book Walker. I even read one after we met. Red Mountain. Check it out.”

“I see it here. Looks like a perfect book club pick. I’d love to meet him.”

“Maybe tonight you’ll stay for more than a song or two.”

Mazzie stepped aside as the customers checked out.

“Guess you noticed,” I murmured, chatting with the customers before they left.

“Everything okay?” Mazzie asked as they left.

Grabbing my comfort coffee, I considered telling her the truth. No. Everything was the opposite of okay. Instead, I gave her Nolan’s cell and promised to stop by Boots and Brews. Not every night one got to meet a banjo-playing author.

After Mazzie left, it was a steady stream until almost lunchtime. While normally that would have been a pleasant mid-week surprise, it wasn’t until almost noon that I finally went to sit down at my computer and type out an email to my old medieval studies professor.

“Hi Dr. Hensley,” it began. “I wondered if you could look at screenshots of this rare text and let me know if you’ve ever heard of it before.”

What else could I say? That it had been pulling me through the pages in a dream-like state I was ninety-five percent sure was real? Allowing for the five percent chance I was, indeed, going crazy?”

Hitting send, the ‘whoosh’ of the email seemed louder, more ominous, than usual. I couldn’t dwell on it as the shop got busy again—at least, my small-town bookstore version of busy—for another half hour.

Every so often, I looked at the book but didn’t dare touch it.