Paper Cuts, page 14
“Sounds like we’ll both be behind the counter tomorrow. It’ll be a long day for Tucker too. He and Val already left for the shop. They’re going to make the back room more Tucker-friendly.”
I hope she’s kind to him, Nora thought.
As if reading Nora’s mind, Kirk said, “Val loves that boy and—this is no excuse—seeing him suffer has been really hard on her. She knows she lashed out at the wrong person. After she talked to Sheriff McCabe last night, I told him how you helped Tucker leave your shop without having to encounter that officer’s dog. The sheriff knows we don’t think you had anything to do with . . . what happened to Kelly.”
Nora flashed him a grateful smile and gestured at the plastic bins. “I should wash my hands before I take a look at those.”
“The powder room is across the hall to the left. I left scissors on the desk. Most of the books are in bubble wrap. I don’t think they’ve been touched since Virginia packed them. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. We’re serving honeyed carrot soup with crunchy chickpeas for the next week, and I’ve got another million chickpeas to roast.”
Once her hands were thoroughly washed and dried, Nora popped the lid off the first bin. Inside, she found a cache of books wrapped in bubble wrap.
The packages were secured by masking tape, so Nora didn’t need the scissors. She picked up a book and carefully peeled off the bubble wrap, revealing a second layer of protection. A sheaf of white paper was secured with more masking tape. Nora carefully removed the paper and saw that she held a signed and dated copy of Erich Segal’s Love Story. The near fine novel was protected by a clear, archival cover and perfectly matched the description on the inventory list. Nora had no idea if the signature was genuine, but the way the book was catalogued and stored inspired confidence.
After rewrapping the novel and setting it aside, Nora reached for the next book in the pile. She planned to examine three or four books from every box before heading to work.
Examining Virginia’s books was pure bliss. Nora admired each one, cradling the spines in one hand while carefully turning pages with the other. Noises from the kitchen—running water, the clank of pots, a knife blade striking a chopping board—played like music in the background.
In what felt like no time at all, Nora was ready to survey a few books from the last bin.
She checked her watch and swore under her breath. She’d taken too long looking at the other bins, which meant she had about five minutes before she had to leave.
“Okay, Virginia. Let’s keep the streak going.”
The shapes inside the bin gave her pause. Instead of bubble-wrapped books, they appeared to be a collection of square boxes.
Nora took a peek inside one of the smaller boxes. It contained a set of enamel pins. Each pin featured a Disney character and a Valentine’s Day greeting. Taped on the inside of the box lid was a note that said, DUO PINS, DISNEY, RARE.
That was it. There was no purchase history or additional description.
Her curiosity aroused, Nora opened another slim box. This one held a heart-shaped container. The red heart lid featured a cherub playing a harp. The inside was lined with gold paper. The item was described as, ANTIQUE GERMAN CANDY CONTAINER.
“Just one more,” Nora vowed.
The object in the third box was completely foreign to her. It was a wooden octagon no bigger than her palm that was inlaid with tiny shells. In the center of the octagon was a portrait of a woman. She had porcelain skin, brown ringlets, and blue eyes. Her necklace looked to be made of tiny beads.
The note inside the box read, SAILOR’S VALENTINE, ANTIQUE, HAND-PAINTED PORTRAIT WITH SHELLS AND SEED PEARLS.
Nora carried the objet d’art into the kitchen, where Kirk was stirring the contents of a commercial grade stockpot.
“It smells great in here.”
“You must like carrots.” Kirk chuckled.
He dipped a small spoon into the soup and brought it to his mouth. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned the heat down and tossed the spoon in the sink.
“What’ve you got there?”
Nora placed the box containing the shell sculpture on the kitchen table. “It’s called a sailor’s valentine. It was in a bin along with a bunch of other valentine-themed collectibles.”
Kirk smiled. “That was Virginia’s favorite holiday. I don’t know if you remember, but her maiden name was Love.”
“Ah, that explains the theme of her collection,” Nora said. “The valentine items are outside my wheelhouse, so let’s focus on the books. From what I saw, it’s an incredible collection. I only looked at three or four books per bin, but Virginia’s descriptions seem accurate. If the rest of the books are like the ones I saw, there’s some good money to be made if you send them to an auction house or to the right book dealer.”
“Kelly thought you were the right book dealer.”
Nora shook her head. “I don’t handle many rare books—especially of this caliber. If you want to get top dollar, you need to ship those books to someone who has a huge client list, an advertising budget, and a name. I’m just a small-town, independent bookstore owner. I’m not the right choice, but I can recommend someone who is.”
Kirk stared down at the valentine made of shells. “Will they sell the knickknacks too?”
“If you want one company to handle the books and the collectibles, it’ll have to be an auction house. Knowing what the items are worth might help you decide. I have a friend who sells vintage items at the flea market. I could send her some photos and see what she has to say.”
“That sounds great. I’ll have Tucker take the pictures. If you give me your number, I can text you the images.”
Nora glanced at her watch. “I should’ve left five minutes ago, so I’ll put this back and show myself out.” Kirk thanked her and she turned away. At the doorway, she turned around again. “I know it’s none of my business, but are the books safe?”
Kirk spread his hands. “We don’t have a security system here or at Tea Flowers. Val and I talked about getting one for the shop but decided not to. We really can’t afford it.”
“Not many shops use them. There isn’t much cash in the registers since people tend to use credit cards these days, and most merchants make daily bank deposits.” Nora shrugged. “I don’t know where you could put the books. Too bad you can’t rent a big, loud dog for a few days.”
“If I did, Tucker would sleep in the treehouse. Oh, I almost forgot!”
Kirk scooped a brown bag off the counter and handed it to Nora. “Soup and sandwiches for two. It’s the least I can do.”
* * *
By the time Nora reached the shop, Sheldon had already picked up the day’s pastries and prepped the coffee and espresso machines. Nora found him pulling books with yellow covers.
“I thought I’d get a jump on the black and yellow table. I cleared off the other books, but I didn’t feel like putting them away. I can’t waste my creative genius on menial tasks.”
Nora proffered the brown bag. “Kirk Walsh made us lunch.”
“Oh?” Sheldon peeked inside the bag. “That soup is an interesting color. What is it?”
“Carrot and honey.”
Sheldon grimaced. “I’m almost afraid to ask about the sandwich.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure? Let me put this in the fridge and then I’ll tell you about their book collection. It’s why I’m so late.”
Following her into the ticket agent’s booth, Sheldon said, “I was hoping you’d stayed up to the wee hours with your man. Since he was here yesterday, I assumed he was done ghosting you.”
Nora studied the wall of coffee mugs. Influenced by the carrot soup, she reached for a white mug with orange lettering that said, COFFEE. BECAUSE PRISON ORANGE ISN’T MY COLOR.
“I don’t know what’s up with Grant, but I do know that Tucker Walsh has inherited a collection that could be worth two hundred grand.” Sheldon whistled and Nora opened the photo app on her phone. “That’s not all. His grandmother, who had a thing for valentines and books with the word love in the title, also left him a boxful of antiques. Ever seen anything like this before?”
Sheldon took the phone from her and brought it closer to his face. “What am I looking at? Are those shells?”
Nora told him about the Disney pins, the German candy container, and the name of the object in the photo.
“Doctor your coffee while I turn to the great and powerful Internet for help.”
Nora stirred half-and-half into her coffee and took one sip before Sheldon started tugging on her sleeve.
“This is interesting. Back in the Victorian era, there was this crazy thing called ‘conchylomania.’ Sounds like an STD, but it’s not. It’s the act of obsessively collecting seashells.”
“Didn’t they collect bugs too? And stamps? And bones? I think it was part of the whole cabinet-of-curiosities thing.”
“Yeah, but no one’s going to pay thousands of dollars for some creepy bug pinned to red velvet.”
“Will they pay thousands of dollars for tiny shells?”
Sheldon raised a finger. “Patience. You need to hear the backstory first. And it was a story. A fictional tale worthy of a Grimm brother.”
Nora put her hand on her hip. “I’m not following.”
“Lots of people believe that sailors spent their solitary moments creating these works of seashell art for their sweeties back home. I get it. It’s a romantic tale. You can almost see these grizzled men sitting on the deck of some huge ship, smoking a pipe while gluing tiny shells to a piece of cotton batting with a strong, scarred, tattooed hand.”
“That’s not what happened?”
“No. As much as we’d like to think that these rough-and-ready men combed the beaches for shells and sketched designs into the sand, they didn’t. Sailor’s valentines are the products of a cottage industry souvenir shop. Made in Barbados, baby. It’s where most of the shells were found and lots of ships stopped at the island during their travels. As vintage pieces of art, they’re beautiful, and the women who made them obviously put great care into their craft.”
“So, they’re more like something you’d pick up at the airport because you forgot to buy a gift for your sweetheart on your trip?”
Sheldon laughed. “Exactly. But like I said, lots of people cling to the romantic legend and have no idea that they’re antique souvenirs. Now, let’s talk money. One very similar to this sold last year for five grand.”
Nora nearly snorted her sip of coffee. Forcing it down her throat, she said, “What?”
“Yeah. And get this! People are still making these things. Some of the twentieth-century pieces sold for even more.” He started untying his apron. “That’s it. I’m moving back to Florida to spend the rest of my days gluing shells to a little hexagonal box.”
“I wouldn’t let you do that to your hands.”
Sheldon examined his knuckles as if expecting them to be inflamed. “Guess I’ll stick to coffee art. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Gus got a job.”
“Already? That’s great! Where?”
“Ever heard of Midnight Chicken?”
Nora nodded. “It’s not far from Pearl’s. I’ve never been in, but isn’t it attached to a twenty-four-hour truck stop?”
“That’s the one. Starting tonight, he’ll be frying chicken, baking biscuits, and seasoning waffle fries.”
“I’m glad someone gave him a chance. Estella must be thrilled.”
Sheldon gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. “She’s going to tell you later, so pretend to be surprised. I just thought you could use a little good news.”
A knocking sound came from the front of the shop and Nora cried, “It’s after ten!”
Nora opened the door, apologized to her customers, and flipped the sign over to read OPEN.
After powering on her register, she moved the book cart Sheldon had left in the middle of the aisle dividing Romance and Mystery and continued to work on the bee-themed display. Though the one-day festival didn’t start until tomorrow, visitors would be keyed up to buy bee-related items all weekend long.
Miracle Springs hosted festivals and street fairs every month of the year, but the second half of April marked the start of the true festival season. Nora was energized by the thought of all the new people she’d see entering her shop from now until October.
The tourists seemed equally invigorated. They roamed about the shop while sipping iced coffee and chatting. They pulled books from the shelves, piled books on tables and chairs, and carried shelf enhancers around only to put them back in the wrong spot.
Nora didn’t mind. A messy shop was the sign of a busy shop. As long as nothing was damaged, she could handle a little disarray.
She was helping two ladies pick out books for their grandchildren when one woman whispered to the other, “For heaven’s sake. That girl is practically naked.”
Her companion kissed her teeth and said, “That’s how they dress these days. Nothing left to the imagination.”
Nora turned to see a young woman in a white midriff-baring top, cutoffs, and cowboy boots standing in front of the ticket agent’s booth. She had toned, tanned limbs, long and lustrous brown hair, and huge breasts. Her eyes were glued to her phone, and she twirled a lock of hair around her finger while she waited to place her order.
“Did you ever dress like that?” one of the ladies asked Nora.
“No, but I never looked as good as she does,” Nora replied. She didn’t want to alienate her customers, but she wasn’t going to belittle another woman behind her back either. Gesturing at a waterfall display of picture books on gardening, she pointed to Planting a Rainbow and told the ladies about Thursday’s storytime activity.
“What a clever idea!” exclaimed the first woman. “My son’s children are such fussy eaters. Maybe this will get them to try something made with vegetables. Besides ketchup.”
The second woman smiled and said, “I’m going to paint a rainbow garden with my granddaughter. Do you have any kid-friendly cookbooks?”
And just like that, the young woman in the crop top was forgotten.
Shortly after the two ladies left, their teal Miracle Springs Lodge tote bags laden with books, Nora decided there was enough of a lull to walk the shop and straighten the shelves.
Of all the genres, romance novels seemed most likely to sprout wings and travel to different parts of the store. Nora had gathered an armload of books with pastel covers—which she fondly referred to as Jordan Almond covers—and was starting to put them in their proper places when the young woman in the crop top appeared at her side.
“Do you work here?” she asked.
Nora slid a book into its proper place and said, “I sure do. Can I help you find something?”
“Um, maybe.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone else was within hearing distance before continuing. “Do you have books about getting guys to want you?”
Nora must’ve done a poor job at concealing her surprise, because the woman suddenly laughed and swept an arm down the length of her body.
“Not like, wanting to have sex with me. That’s easy. I mean, like, falling in love with me.”
“In other words, you want them to see past your outer beauty and get to know you as a person?”
The woman smiled, revealing a mouthful of straight, electric-white teeth. Her eyes were a lovely shade of greenish gray. They reminded Nora of moss-covered stones.
I’m totally staring at her.
To cover her embarrassment, Nora introduced herself.
“And I’m Justine. I’m here on vacay with my man. He’s so amazing! He’s smart and super rich. And he’s been all over the world.” After a pause, she added, “He’s kind of a player too. I knew that when I got with him, but I want to be the only woman in his life. I want him to put a ring on it.” The corner of her lips dipped in the semblance of a frown. “The thing is, I think he’s getting bored with me. I see him checking out other girls. I need to make him obsessed with me and only me.”
Nora’s eyes roved over the shelves. “How much steam do you like? No steam or steamy enough to fog a mirror?”
Justine stared at her blankly.
“Do you prefer this?” Nora showed her Alice Clayton’s Wallbanger followed by Debbie Macomber’s The Best Is Yet to Come. “Or this?”
“Um, I don’t know. I haven’t read a book in a really long time. Can you just find something short that’ll tell me what to do to keep my man?”
“I can pull a few titles for you. Would you be interested in any nonfiction?”
A tiny line appeared between Justine ’s pencil-lined brows. “Nah. I want a book that’s like a movie.”
“Okay. You can keep browsing or take a seat and I’ll bring you a small pile to look through in a few minutes.”
Justine walked away and Nora moved deeper into the stacks, her gaze skirting over titles as she made a mental checklist of romance tropes.
Older man. Second chance. Jealousy and possession. Mistress heroine.
As a reader, Nora tended to stick with rom-coms, historical romance, and romantic suspense, so she wasn’t as versed in the tropes she was looking for as she needed to be. She found two suitable titles, and after a quick text to June, was able to add three more to the pile.
She carried the books to Justine. The young woman had her cowboy boots on the coffee table and was watching a makeup tutorial on her phone.
Nora placed the books on the table and said, “Take your time looking through these. I’ll be at the checkout counter if you need me.”
Five minutes later, Justine appeared. She fanned the books across the counter and said, “If you were me, which one would you pick?”
Nora glanced down at Christina Lauren’s Beautiful Stranger, Lynda Chance’s The Mistress Mistake, The Marriage Bargain by Jennifer Probst, Sylvia Day’s One with You, and This Man by Jodi Ellen Malpas.
“I’d have to read the back cover blurbs before I made my choice. Did any of the summaries speak to you?”
“Are you married?” Justine blurted.
