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Ruby picks up a paperback copy ofA Secret Gardenand flips it over in her hands. The corners are well-worn and it’s obviously been read and enjoyed a number of times. “Is it for a book club?” She frowns.
“No, just for fun. My wife, Ellen, and I are just huge fans of books and pop culture, and we thought it would be fun to do a different theme every month. It’s kind of taken on a life of its own at this point though.”
Ruby sets the book back on the pile. There’s a homespun charm to Mistletoe Morning Brew that makes her feel warm inside, and as she glances back over her shoulder, she can see Dexter North approaching the front door. Sunlight spills in through the windows and onto the tile floor.
“Well, your shop is lovely. Truly. I’ve only been here since yesterday afternoon, but I’m already crazy about Christmas Key. What a special place.”
“Morning,” Dexter says as he walks in the door. He gives both Carrie-Anne and Ruby a brisk nod. “Sorry I’m late.” Dexter adjusts the strap of his book bag as he looks up at the chalkboard menu.
“You’re not late,” Ruby assures him. “I’m just early.” She turns to Carrie-Anne. “I’ll drink whatever you recommend.”
“Oh,” Carrie-Anne sounds surprised. “Okay, let’s see. I’m a big fan of the iced lavender latte, but the rose hip tea is wonderful, too.”
“I’m definitely thinking coffee,” Ruby says. “I’ll try the iced lavender, please.”
Dexter pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his shorts. “I’ll do the same,” he says. “Thanks, Carrie-Anne.”
They take their cold drinks out the front door and Dexter leads them through the front door of the bookstore, which shares a wall with Mistletoe Morning Brew. Inside, a tall, Black man with a runner’s build and stylish tortoiseshell eyeglasses is typing at a computer on the front counter.
“Hey, Dexter!” the man says, his face breaking into a huge, toothy grin. He walks out from behind the counter and extends a hand. “Welcome back.”
Dexter shakes his hand. The two men appear to be close in age, and they both look bookish and cerebral in their dark-framed glasses.
“Ruby, this is Vance Guy, owner of A Sleighful of Books. Vance, this is Ruby Hudson.”
Vance offers her a hand, looking awed. “I’m thrilled to meet you, Ruby—if I may call you that—and not for the reason you’re thinking.” Vance glances at Dexter excitedly and then back at Ruby. “I heard you opened a bookstore on Shipwreck Key, and I was hoping maybe we could talk about collaborating on events at some point.”
Ruby feels a tingle in her toes; this is the first time in as long as she can remember that anyone expressed an interest in meeting her for any reasonotherthan the fact that she’s lived in the White House.
“That would actually be incredible,” Ruby says. “I’d love to talk about that more. Did you have anything specific in mind?”
Dexter is holding his coffee in one hand, looking pleased as Ruby and Vance talk. A shaft of morning light beams through the front window of the narrow shop, falling on the wood floor just as it had fallen on the tile in the coffee shop. Christmas Key has the constant feeling of being bathed in soft sunlight, and Ruby loves it.
“I was thinking about possibly bringing authors here for readings.” Vance folds his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels. “Maybe having them do a tour of the Keys that includes Shipwreck and Christmas, in addition to the usual spots like Key West and Islamorada.”
“I love that idea so much. I haven’t even started thinking that far ahead yet,” Ruby admits. “But I would love to get to the point where I host a stop on someone’s book tour. Fabulous idea, Vance.”
“Here,” Vance says, stepping back behind the counter and plucking a business card from a small holder by the computer. He hands it to Ruby. “Let’s share information and we’ll make it happen. I think there are tons of things we could work together on, and I’d love to make a trip over to Shipwreck and check out your shop.”
Ruby takes her wallet from her purse and pulls out a business card that she hands to Vance.
“Thank you,” Vance says, holding the card with both hands reverently. “I’m really excited about this.”
“Now, if you don’t mind,” Dexter says, shaking the ice in his plastic cup. “Ruby and I were going to borrow your back deck and talk for a bit. Is that cool, Vance?”
Vance sweeps a hand toward the back door of the shop. “Absolutely. Enjoy, and let me know if you need anything.”
Ruby nods at Vance with a smile and follows Dexter onto a wooden deck that’s surrounded by palm trees and smaller bushes. There are three round tables with umbrellas on the patio, and Dexter chooses one, sitting down in a chair and placing his iced coffee, a notebook and pen, and a small recorder on the table. Ruby pulls out a chair opposite.
“Mind if I record a bit today?” Dexter asks, glancing up at her as he jots something in his notebook. He looks freshly showered, and he’s wearing cargo shorts and a collared, short-sleeved shirt with Converse. His hair is still slightly damp.
“No, not at all,” Ruby says, though she does mind. Or rather, she’s nervous—at least a little bit. Dexter did say that anything he puts in the book will have her final approval, but the fear that she’ll slip up and say something too revealing is there. Ruby doesn’t want to have to backpedal or demand that he leave something out of the book just because she messed up and let her tongue get too loose. She clears her throat and wipes the cold condensation from her coffee off her palms and onto her bare thighs.
Dexter takes a moment getting ready, then leans back in his chair as he gives Ruby a long look.
“I think we should start with the hard stuff today and work backwards, even if we don’t get it all covered during this visit.” His words land in her gut like a heavy stone in the bottom of a pond. They both sit there for a long moment, well aware of what he’s getting at.
“Fine,” Ruby says, her voice neutral. She knows where this is going.
