Paper Cuts, page 2
June murmured in agreement. “Listen, honey, I know a bit of what you’re going through. Tyson was in rehab for a long time, and you remember what it was like when he got out. He had to spend months in the halfway house before he was ready to live and work on his own. He’s come a long way, but he’s still uncomfortable around strangers. He still looks over his shoulder, half expecting to see the dealers he stole from when he was using. My boy is in his thirties, but he lost years to those damned drugs. In some ways, he’s still a kid. In others, he’s an old man. Time didn’t stand still for your father, but it didn’t move as fast as it did for you. The pace is going to be hard for him to handle at first.”
“People weren’t glued to their cell phones fifteen years ago. They didn’t drive electric cars or fly to space just for kicks,” said Nora. “He doesn’t need to adjust to any of that, but I imagine it’ll be a shock to see how different the town is now. And the people he knew before he went inside—they’re going to look different too.”
Estella said, “I’ve brought him the local paper for years, so he’s not totally in the dark about our area. He’s going to live with me until he finds his feet. I don’t know what he’ll do for work, but all the articles I’ve read say that a job is super important. It’s the one thing all former prisoners need to feel like they’re back in society. They need the routine and the responsibility. Earning money is important. Working gives them a sense of pride. It’ll keep Daddy from getting depressed.”
“Has he had any vocational training?” asked June.
“Just food service. He cooked for the inmates whenever he had the chance. He even developed special menus. Superbowl meals and things like that. I bought him a few cookbooks so he could have some fun in my kitchen. I figured it would be good for him to putter around at home for a few days and get used to his freedom before he goes looking for a job.”
Nora cocked her head. “Would Jack hire him to work in the diner?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Estella said. “He’ll find something, but in the meantime, I’d like to read some books talk about reentering society after prison. I have a week to do whatever I can to help him transition.”
June smiled at Estella. “You’re a good woman.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have my bad-girl reputation to protect.”
Their conversation was curtailed when Val appeared with their orders. She distributed four small glass teapots and four plates of sandwiches. Finally, she put a plate of flower-shaped macarons in the center of the table.
“These are on the house,” she said with a smile. “And since this is your first time, let me tell how your flowering tea works. Each teapot has a bulb made of tea leaves and flowers. In a few seconds, the bulbs will expand and slowly unfurl. Once it blooms, you’ll see the flowers inside. Let your tea steep for a few minutes before you drink it.”
Hester said, “Do you mind if I take a video?”
“Not at all. Enjoy.”
Val started to turn away when her gaze caught on Nora’s right arm.
Strangers were always fascinated by the burn scars that floated like jellyfish over the back of Nora’s hand and up the length of her arm.
Most adults gave her a good once-over before eventually turning away in embarrassment. Children had no such compunction and would often ask why her skin was bubbly or why she was missing the top half of her finger. She always told them she’d been in an accident but her scars no longer hurt.
Though Nora felt the weight of Val’s stare, she was too enraptured by her flowering tea to worry about it. The bulb of tea leaves slowly unfurled, and a centerpiece of dried flowers floated in her glass teapot.
“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said to Val.
Finally tearing her eyes away from Nora, Val saw customers waiting at the counter and hurried off.
Nora and her friends resumed their discussion of The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane, bouncing back and forth between scenes from the book and anecdotes from their own lives. They also talked about the upcoming Honeybee Jubilee.
“For the next two weeks, my bakery will be stuffed to the gills with honey-flavored treats and flower-shaped cookies.” Hester plucked a daisy macaron off the plate and examined it with a critical eye. “This is beautiful work. I’m glad it’s the only dessert item on their menu. You know I like being the only baked goods game in town.”
June bit into a sunflower macaron. “Oh, yum. Mine’s lemon and strawberry.”
Estella took a nibble out of her tulip-shaped cookie and grimaced. “Ick. Coconut.”
“The rose is red velvet,” said Nora. “You picked the winner, June.”
Hester chewed her cookie thoughtfully. “They’re pretty, but I think they were baked somewhere else and shipped frozen.”
“I’m going to bring some back for Sheldon,” Nora said. “That man needs a treat because even though he pretends he’s not, he’s still tired from yesterday’s storytime. He read Where the Wild Things Are and made monster crowns with the kids. The whole children’s section was covered in glitter and feathers—including Sheldon! His mustache was twinkling like a disco ball.”
While her friends cackled with glee, Nora headed to the counter to order a sampler box of macarons. Val was taking a phone order and didn’t see Nora, so she ambled over to a display of low maintenance houseplants. She was immediately drawn to a Chinese money plant in a hedgehog pot. The hedgehog wore glasses and was too cute to ignore.
“That plant will bring you luck,” said a man holding a pricing gun.
“I could always use more of that.”
The man moved closer. His name tag, which read Kirk, was pinned to the front pocket of his khaki work shirt. Of average height, he had a thick torso and hands as wide and square as slices of bread. His brown hair was graying at the temples, his brows were bushy, and he had the weather-beaten skin of an outdoorsman.
“The luck is specific to money,” Kirk said. “See how the leaves look like coins?”
“I could really use that kind of luck. I’m trying to save up for a car.” She sighed. “I’d like to put this on the checkout counter in my bookshop, but I have a brown thumb.”
Kirk’s brows twitched. “The bookstore on the corner? That’s you?” At Nora’s nod, he gave her the same overt assessment Val had given her. The only difference was, he was quicker to break eye contact.
Gesturing at the plant, he said, “Here’s all you need to know to care for it. Don’t overwater. Let the soil dry out between waterings. You’ll know when it needs a drink because the leaves will look droopy. It doesn’t like direct sunlight, but if it gets indirect light and you rotate it once in a while, you won’t kill it. If you need a plant medic, you know where to find me.”
“The man I work with keeps saying that we need a store mascot. What could beat a ceramic hedgehog with glasses?”
As Nora carried the potted plant to the checkout counter, she felt the tickle of Kirk’s stare on her back.
Val rang her up, packed the macarons, and lowered the plant into a box, shooting glances at Nora’s face the whole time.
Nora had had enough of the woman’s ogling.
“Here’s the deal,” she said. “Ten years ago, I was in a fire. That’s why my right arm looks the way it does. My face used to be much worse, but I had surgery. I only have half a pinkie, but that didn’t stop me from eating that curried egg salad sandwich in record time. Do you make all of the food here?”
Pink splotches appeared on Val’s cheeks. “Not the macarons. We order those from a bakery in Brooklyn. I do the tea and the sandwiches. Kirk, that’s my husband, takes care of the plant side of things. We’re new to town.”
Val was talking a mile a minute and her movements were jerky. Nora couldn’t understand why she was so flustered.
Get over it, lady. I have a few scars. I’m not the Phantom of the Opera.
Kirk appeared from the back room and began looking through some papers on the desk directly behind his wife. When he didn’t find what he wanted, he touched Val’s shoulder. She startled so violently that she swept the box with the potted plant right off the counter. It crashed to the floor in front of Nora, flinging soil and bits of broken pottery everywhere.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she cried.
Kirk pivoted his wife around until she faced the back room. “I’ll clean it up. There’s another hedgehog pot on the third shelf in the storeroom. Get it and I’ll fix the plant right up.”
Clinging to his arm, Val whispered, “I’m sorry. I got nervous when I saw her.”
“Go on, Val. I’ll sweep up.”
Nora was tempted to take her macarons and leave, but she’d already paid for the potted plant and didn’t want to wait around for Val to refund her money. She didn’t want to interact with Val at all. The woman was clearly fascinated and repulsed by Nora, and Nora wasn’t interested in being studied like a specimen under glass.
Kirk came around the counter with a broom and dustpan. “The good news is the plant’s fine. Give me just a minute while I add a little soil to a new pot.”
Leaving him to clean up the mess and repot the plant, Nora returned to her friends.
“Are you causing trouble?” Estella teased.
Nora pulled a face. “Do I have lettuce in my teeth or something? I’m used to people giving me the once-over, but that woman is making me feel like a circus attraction.”
“You think everyone’s grossed out by your scars, but she’s probably staring at you because you’re beautiful,” said June. “People do it all the time. You still see yourself as the woman with the scarred face, but no one else does. You need to say goodbye to her once and for all.”
Though Nora knew Val hadn’t been admiring her, she let the subject drop. Since it was a Monday and Hester was the only one who didn’t need to get back to work, Nora told them to go ahead without her.
June slipped her crossbody bag over her head and wiggled a finger at Nora. “Tell Sheldon not to eat those macarons right before dinner. I’m making one of his favorites tonight—lemon chicken and butter beans. That man hit the jackpot when he became my housemate.”
“I’m having a big salad. All these diner meals are catching up to me,” said Estella.
Hester eyed Estella’s trim waist. “You never gain weight.”
“That’s the power of an A-line dress,” Estella said, glancing at her watch. “I need to run. The mayor is coming in at four. She’s decided to go silver and is going to look amazing. She’s ditching her French manicure too. She wants fuchsia on her hands and navy on her toes. Oh, how I love helping a woman transform!”
Estella bustled out of the shop to several admiring glances.
“She’s a force of nature. I wish I was like that,” Hester said with a sigh in her voice.
June waved her comment aside. “You have your own gifts. We all do. Estella can’t conjure memories with her baked goods, I can’t give people the perfect book recommendation, and none of you can knit worth a damn.”
Hester laughed. “That’s true. Maybe I don’t want to be a force of nature either. Maybe I want a transformation like the mayor’s getting.”
“You want to go silver?” Nora joked.
Hester twirled a strand of honey-colored hair around her finger. “I want to get out of bed and not have to deal with these curls. I’ve worn my hair in a headband or ponytail since I was in high school, but when your workday starts at five a.m., being stylish is the last thing on your mind.”
June ran a hand over her head. “You could shave it all off. It’s incredibly liberating.”
“That’s a bit too liberating. How about a shag?”
“Is that a haircut or a proposal?”
Hester and June headed for the exit, laughing as they walked.
Nora returned to the counter, where Kirk had her potted plant ready to go.
“Hope to see you again soon,” he said, pushing the box across the counter. His smile was perfunctory. He suddenly seemed eager for her to leave.
Nora bristled. Because she’d had her share of rude, impatient, and self-centered customers, she went out of her way to be polite to those in the service industry. If this is how Val and Kirk were going to react to her burn scars, how would they treat other customers with obvious physical differences?
Knowing she had no chance of getting through to them by being hostile, she took a deep breath and spoke in a casual but direct manner.
“I’d like to come back here again, but I’m not sure if I will. Your wife is clearly uncomfortable around me. I’m used to people staring at my scars, but they usually get over it after a few minutes.”
Kirk flapped his hands like a pair of agitated birds. “No, no! She’s just not herself right now. You see, we never planned on moving here. We came to be close to my sister and to help out with her son.” His eyes clouded with sorrow. “My sister—she’s sick. She’s tried everything, including the hot springs, but now, she’s just trying to manage her pain and live what little time she has in peace.”
When Kirk turned away to compose himself, Nora said, “I’m sorry. That must be really hard.”
Hundreds of years ago, the Cherokee traveled to the hot springs to experience the healing properties of mineral waters. Over time, the waters had attracted more and more people. As hotels, shops, and eateries were built to cater to these visitors, Miracle Springs became known as a retreat for those grappling with physical or emotional illness.
The hot springs weren’t magical. The waters couldn’t cure cancer, undo trauma, or fix a broken heart. They could offer rest and hope, and if these failed, the beautiful scenery, kind residents, and charming shops and eateries provided escapism and comfort.
Most visitors found their way to Miracle Books, lured in by colorful window displays and the promise of a good read.
Over the years, Nora had heard some sad stories. She knew how people could act when they were scared, and if Kirk’s sister was gravely ill, it was no wonder he and Val were on edge.
Nora picked up her box and said, “This is a good place to find peace. I hope that’s what your sister finds.”
Another customer was approaching the counter. Kirk darted a glance his way as he murmured something in response.
Though it made no sense, Nora could have sworn he said, “That depends on you.”
Chapter 2
She would disappear folded into origami like her own dreams.
—Lauren Beukes
Nora used the delivery door to enter Miracle Books. She dropped her handbag in the stockroom and wheeled a hand truck stacked with new releases up the hall. As she passed the restroom, she was greeted by familiar sounds. The blend of instrumental jazz, murmured voices, gurgling espresso machine, and rustling pages was the music of the bookstore.
Sheldon Vega, Nora’s friend and only employee, called out, “I have a Jack London for Daphne, and a Louisa May Alcott for Zara. Heather, your Dante Alighieri is on deck.”
For the next twenty seconds, the loud hiss of the milk frother obliterated all other sounds.
Nora parked the hand truck in the nook between Science Fiction and Fantasy and headed into the ticket agent’s booth. Though it was now a kitchen and coffee station, the space had once been dedicated to the sale of train tickets. The building that housed Miracle Books was the town’s original train station. When the modern station was built a mile down the line, the old one was put up for sale. It languished on the market for a long time, becoming more and more decrepit, until a patient in a burn unit saw the listing and decided to buy it.
It had taken every penny of Nora’s savings to cover the down payment on the building and the stretch of land behind the store. She also bought a retired caboose, converted it into a tiny house, and parked it on the hill overlooking the train tracks. Every night, she heard the whistles of nighttime freight trains. The sweet, haunting sound evoked a desire for adventure or a sudden longing.
Passengers no longer rushed through the former station, because Miracle Books was a place of slow movements and lowered voices.
Upon entering the bookstore, people wandered through the rabbit warren of shelves, browsed the titles on the display tables, and spent hours in the reading chairs. They’d open books, scan blurbs, and sniff pages. They’d put away their phones and read. They’d meet friends for coffee or sit on the alphabet rug with their kids to read picture books. For an hour or so, they’d find peace in the oasis of colorful book spines.
Though Nora knew Miracle Books was a haven of quiet and calm in a chaotic world, she hadn’t expected to see so many people in the store. A large after-lunch crowd was unusual, but a crowd of young adults occupied the area around the ticket agent’s booth as well as the Readers’ Circle.
“Where’d this group come from?” she whispered to Sheldon as he cleaned the milk-frother wand.
“They’re on a five-day brewery tour of Western North Carolina. They started in Charlotte and continued to Asheville from there. After Miracle Springs, they’ll head to Boone. See those two cuties by the Everything’s Coming Up Romance endcap? They just got married, and instead of having a wedding reception, they rounded up the people they love most and did this trip. Isn’t that cool? So much more fun than a dinner of rubber chicken and dancing to Sister Sledge on a parquet dance floor.”
Pointing at the coffee mug in Sheldon’s hand, Nora said, “Are you sobering them up before they get back on the road?”
“You know what they say about assumptions?” Sheldon scolded. “These fine folks don’t drink during the day. They hike, sample local cuisine, and visit art galleries or shops. One of the reasons they came to Miracle Springs was to hike part of the Appalachian Trail. The other reason was to visit our store. They’ve already put aside a stack of books to buy. I’m telling you; these are our people.”
“I’ll go say hello in a sec, but I wanted to give you your treat first. They’re macarons from Tea Flowers.”
