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“When you left for Brisbane, we hardly spoke. It was as though you walked out on me without explanation.”
Brett pulled up in his truck with two other utes behind him full of construction workers. The interruption was welcome. This conversation was getting far too personal too fast. Bea’s heart rate was elevated and her cheeks flaming with heat.
“Good morning,” Brett said, climbing out of his truck. He wore work shorts, a buttoned shirt with paint splashed on it and an Akubra hat.
“Good morning.”
“Ready to turn this cottage into the getaway of your dreams?”
Bea smiled. “I can’t wait.”
Eveleigh’s Books was a quaint little bookshop down by the water’s edge on the outskirts of Kellyville looking out over the parklands that hugged the shoreline. It was painted in blue with lilac trim. The paint was chipped and peeling, and there was a rusted steel statue of a pelican on the front porch.
A bell over the door rang as Bea stepped inside. It was darker inside the bookshop. The small space was crammed with towering timber shelves stacked with books. Several people sat on small chairs or in beanbags around the shop, reading. A woman hovered over a cash register, hitting buttons and sighing in frustration each time the machine beeped at her.
“For heaven’s sakes!” she exclaimed.
She held a small white booklet in her hand and had reading glasses perched on the end of her lightly freckled nose. Her red hair curled in wild ringlets all around a pretty face. She wore purple overalls with a white singlet top beneath them and glowed with a healthy tan.
Bea walked over to her and waited patiently. The woman swore beneath her breath as the machine beeped again, then peered at Bea over her reading glasses.
“Do you know anything about cash registers?”
“Um, sorry, no. Not really. Although I’m sure we can figure it out. Do you mind if I look at the instructions?”
The woman handed the booklet to her. “Please, knock yourself out. I’m about to lose my mind.”
“What are you trying to get it to do?”
“Open the cash drawer. That’s all I want. I bought this thing today and set it up. The old one was broken, you see. But I can’t open the cash drawer to add change. I’ve been having to do it out of an ice cream container all day long.”
“That is frustrating,” Bea admitted, skimming through the instructions quickly.
She reached over the machine and hit a button. The cash drawer flew open. “There you go.”
The woman cocked her head to one side. “Show me how you did that again.”
Bea showed her.
“Wow, thank you. I get so stressed, I can’t think straight. Also my glasses need a clean. It’s impossible to see anything through all these fingerprints on the lenses.” She pulled them off and rubbed them against her shirt.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Bea said.
Evie squinted at her. “Beatrice Rushton?” She grinned widely and rushed around the counter to hug Bea. “I can’t believe it’s you. I haven’t seen you in years. You look so different.”
“Not you.” Bea laughed. “Your hair isn’t quite as wild, but otherwise you’re exactly the same.”
Evie stepped back. “Let me look at you. Weren’t you brunette the last time we caught up?”
“That’s right — I had a dark bob. But I’m back to my original blonde now. Helps to cover the grey.”
Evie laughed. “That makes sense. And I love it—it suits you. Come on out to the back. I’ll get Janice to run the till and we can have a cup of tea.”
Evie spoke to an earnest young woman with a brown ponytail, then ushered Bea out through the back of the shop to a small kitchen and sitting area. Bea sat at a round table while Evie rushed around the kitchen fixing tea and putting slices of cinnamon tea cake onto a floral-painted plate.
“This place is amazing,” Bea said. “It has such a good feel.”
“Right? I think so too,” Evie said as she slumped into a chair beside Bea. “I bought it about five years ago from a lady who ran a crystal shop, and turned it into a bookstore. It was my dream after I spent years working as a photographer to raise the money to do it.”
