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“If I give you the name of one of our locals, could you tell me if you know them?”
He finishes with the coffee pot, setting it back on the warmer. Bringing the cup over to the counter, he reaches for a lid and a handful of sugar packets. “Sure. Who is it?”
“Shannon Crewes.” I remember her last name from her credit card and when Derek doesn’t give me a weird look, I figure he might have expected something similar. “She shops with me a lot, and I’m pretty sure I see her in here from time to time.”
Derek chuckles as he snaps the lid on my coffee. “Time to time? If it’s the same Shannon I’m thinking about, she gets her morning latte like clockwork.”
That’s just what I was hoping to hear. “Do you know if she was in today?”
“Not yet, but it’s Saturday. She usually comes in later. Though, that reminds me… hang on.” He passes the coffee over to me, and when Tasha comes up behind him with my hot croissant in a paper bag, he nods at me.
She holds it over the counter. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I take the bag and the coffee, watching curiously as Derek digs around one of the drawers behind the counter.
“Ah ha!” Slamming the drawer shut, he holds up a—
I tilt my head. Is that a scrap of receipt paper?
“I can’t believe I almost forgot. She was actually asking about you the other day. Something about a book?”
My heart just about stops. “She was?”
“Yup. She wrote her number down and asked me to pass it along to you if I saw you before she did. What a coincidence that you were asking about her just now.” He holds the scrap out to me. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve totally forgotten about that.”
Coincidence, huh? Maybe. Maybe not.
I take the slip of receipt paper with Shannon’s number on it, folding it in my fist. I try not to let my excitement show as I pick up the bag with my croissant in it again.
“Thanks. I’ll have to give her a call and find out what that’s about.”
“No problem. Have a good day, Ken.”
I tighten my fingers around the scrap and offer Derek a smile way more genuine than the one from before. “You, too.”
It’s five to ten by the time I juggle Shannon’s phone number, my coffee, my croissant, and my keys in order to pop the lock on Turn the Page. After turning the lights on behind me, my first instinct is to set my breakfast down, grab my phone, and call Shannon right up.
Then I remember how Derek said Shannon didn’t usually stop by The Beanery until later on the weekend. The last thing I need is to blow any shot of getting that book off of Shannon by waking her up early on a Saturday and having her pissed at me.
Patience, Kennedy. Open the store. Get the registers up and running. Check your e-mail.
Do your job.
Tucking Shannon’s number underneath my cash register for now so I don’t lose it, I get to work.
One thing I can say? It was a good idea to come back early, no matter why I did. I have plenty of customers to keep me occupied all morning to the point that I’m still nibbling on my croissant during lunch. I shut down for fifteen to grab a ham and cheese from Sal’s because I’m still hungry, then return to dive into a box of stock I meant to put out before I headed to the beach.
By the time I actually have a moment to call Shannon, it’s late afternoon and the perfect opportunity to find out just why she was looking forme.
Taking a deep breath, filled with nerves I can’t quite explain, I grab the slip of receipt paper out from under my cash register, punching it into my phone.
It seems to ring forever before—
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Shannon?”
“Sure is. How can I help?”
