Paper Cuts, page 3
Nora opened the box to show Sheldon the flower-shaped cookies.
“Oh! Pretty. How was the tea?”
“Also pretty. The owners seem out of their depth. They moved here with a sick family member and are running the business and helping out with the family member and her kid. I was relaxed when I got there. By the time I left? Not so much. But I did buy a magical plant that will make us rich.”
Sheldon smoothed the silver tails of his glorious mustache with one hand while shooing her away with the other. “I want all the details, especially the rich part, but not now. Right now, I have lattes to make and cookies to eat.”
Nora glanced at the tower of dirty mugs in the sink. “As soon as I put the new releases out, I’ll be back to wash those mugs.”
After greeting the twentysomethings, all of whom were contentedly amassing small piles of books while they socialized, Nora replenished missing titles from the New Fiction table and then wheeled the empty hand truck to the stockroom.
She returned to the front to find a customer waiting for her at the checkout counter. The woman’s attention was focused on the boy spinning the bookmark tower around and around. Nora could tell just by looking at her that the woman wasn’t well.
Because she ran a business in a town known for its healing waters, Nora’s customers had a wide range of medical conditions. Some were obvious. Others were less visible.
The woman at the counter looked extremely fragile. Her skin was stretched tight over her bones and was so pale that it was almost colorless. She wore a chemo cap covered in tiny Princess Leia figures. The royal-purple hue emphasized both her pallor and the brilliance of her blue-green eyes. Her brows were pencil lines drawn by an unsteady hand and her lips were chapped. She watched the boy so intently that she was unaware of Nora’s presence.
A donkey-bray of a laugh echoed from deeper in the store, and the woman turned. Smiling at Nora, she said, “He’ll do that all day if I let him. He likes how the glittery ones sparkle in the sunlight.”
Unlike the children who spun the rack around fast enough to dislodge a handful of bookmarks, the woman’s son was being very careful.
“They’re my favorite too. Especially the peacock.”
The woman seemed relieved that Nora wasn’t going to ask her son to leave the bookmarks alone. “I came to find something for him—for Tucker. He’s gotten really into origami lately and he’s really good at it. Do you carry any origami books?”
“Let me check.”
As Nora opened her laptop, she pictured the Puzzles and Games section. The shelves held such a hodgepodge of activity books that she wasn’t sure exactly what she had in stock.
“It looks like we have one kit and two books. One of the books is called Easy Origami. It has over thirty projects but doesn’t come with any paper. The kit comes with an instruction booklet of seventy-five patterns and a hundred sheets of paper. The projects range from easy to challenging. We also have The Strange Case of Origami Yoda. It’s a middle grade fiction book about a sixth-grade boy who makes origami.”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “Tucker’s in fifth grade. I bet he’d love that book. Can you show me that one and the kit with the different levels? He’s done a bunch of beginner patterns already.”
“Sure. Come on back.”
The woman walked over to the bookmark spinner and, without touching her son or the spinner, held out her hand like a traffic cop. “Tucker, please stop. We’re going to a different part of the store to look for your books. Do you want to stay here or come with us?”
Tucker continued to turn the spinner. His mother repeated her question and then told Tucker that she was going to walk away at the count of three. She finished the count and approached Nora. A second later, Tucker released the spinner and turned to follow her.
He took one step before directing a lightning-quick glance at Nora. Then he fixed his gaze on the ground. As they rounded the Fiction section and passed by the group occupying the chairs in the Readers’ Circle, Tucker hunched his shoulders and lowered his head like a turtle pulling into its shell. He only relaxed when Nora took the origami kit off the shelf and held it out to him.
“What do you think, Tuck?” his mother said.
The boy’s face glowed with excitement. “I like it! It has the cat and the butterfly. And the blinking eye. I can make a bunch of Pokémon, and a panda, and a box with a lid.”
His speech was a rapid-fire mumble that Nora found difficult to follow. It was as if his mouth couldn’t keep up with the avalanche of words tumbling through his brain.
“Hold on to that while we see what else this nice lady has to show us,” his mother said.
On the way to the Children’s Corner, Nora introduced herself.
“I’ve met you before, actually,” the woman said. “I’m Kelly. Tucker and I just moved here, but I was in your shop the first time I came to this town.”
“I’m happy to have a repeat customer as a new neighbor,” Nora said.
When they reached the Children’s Corner, Tucker walked over to the letter T on the alphabet rug and sat down to read the fine print on the back of the origami kit.
The Strange Case of Origami Yoda was sandwiched between Lloyd Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain and Darth Paper Strikes Back. When Nora handed the book to Kelly, her eyes sparkled with delight.
“I’ve heard about this series. The author’s neurodivergent! I read somewhere that he calls his Aspie behavior his superpower.” She gazed at her son. “Tuck has superpowers too. I just hope people will be able to see them like I do.”
Sorrow stole the light from Kelly’s eyes. In that instant, she looked as small and fragile as a hummingbird egg.
Nora recognized the expression on Kelly’s face. It was grief. And it was so all-encompassing that it took every ounce of her strength to keep from surrendering to it.
In that moment, Nora realized that Kelly didn’t expect to live long enough to see her son become a man. She’d probably moved to Miracle Springs in hopes of gaining a little extra time. She’d bathe in the mineral waters. She’d get healing massages and acupuncture. She’d meditate and drink superfood smoothies. She’d do anything in her power to remain here, in this world, with her boy.
Nora wished she could wave a magic wand and change Kelly’s fate, but all she could offer were books and kindness. Touching Kelly lightly on the shoulder, she said, “I bet his superpowers come from you. It’s like The Force in Star Wars. It gets passed down.”
Kelly grinned. “Did you hear that, Tucker? I’m like Princess Leia. Without all the hair.”
She bought both Tom Angleberger books as well as the origami kit. She also asked Nora to order The Secret of the Fortune Wookiee.
After bagging the books, Nora came around the counter and offered the bag to Tucker. “I’d love to see your origami. If you want to show me any of your projects, you can bring them in. Your mom could have an iced coffee and you could have a not-so-hot hot chocolate with lots of rainbow marshmallows.”
Though Tucker didn’t make eye contact, he said, “Okay.”
Kelly flashed Nora a grateful smile and opened the front door, causing the sleigh bells hanging from a hook on the back to jangle noisily. Tucker covered his ears and hurried outside.
Materializing at Nora’s side, Sheldon pointed at the door. “See that? You’re torturing children with hearing sensitivities with that jingle-jangling beast. A caring, thoughtful person would throw them in the trash and install a motion-automated chime instead.”
“For the millionth time, the sleigh bells aren’t going anywhere. I don’t want more automation in my life.” She gave Sheldon a playful poke. “Unless someone invented a robotic barista. If that’s a thing, here’s my credit card.”
Sheldon pretended to pull a knife out of his chest. “Come on, Brutus, I’m going to have a snack while you wash dishes and tell me about the tea shop.”
After making sure the brewery-tour folks were still happily sipping coffee and chatting, Nora started washing mugs. Sheldon followed her into the ticket agent’s booth and popped a piece of bread into the toaster.
Not only was Sheldon the best barista within a hundred miles, but he also baked his own Cuban bread. He’d inherited his love of food and music from his Cuban father and his love of reading and fussing over people from his Jewish mother. Sheldon was a gregarious, kindhearted man with waves of silver hair and a glorious mustache of the same hue, a Santa Claus belly, and a loud laugh. His favorite snack was Nutella on toast, and it had become so popular with the customers that Nora added it to the menu, calling it the Shel Silverstein.
While he waited on the toaster, he wiped the display case where the book pockets were kept. These lighter-than-air pastries were shaped like books and had either a chocolate or raspberry filling. Hester made the pastries every morning and Sheldon picked them up on his way to work.
“We’re running out of book pockets earlier and earlier these days. Maybe we should increase our order by half a dozen and see how it goes.”
“Hester mentioned that at lunch today. She also thinks we should add a new food item to our menu. The James and the Giant Peach muffin.”
Sheldon barked out a laugh. “I like it. She’ll have to go easy on the streusel topping or we’ll have crumbs everywhere. I don’t mind vacuuming, but I’ve read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, and I don’t want an army of mice running over my shoes during storytime.”
“But what If You Give a Moose a Muffin . . . ?”
“No mice, moose, meese, or mooses. The only wild animals allowed in this shop are the children. How’s Hester?”
Nora turned the water off. “She gave her engagement ring back to Jasper.”
The toaster popped but Sheldon didn’t move. “Pobrecita.”
“It might not be a bad thing. They’re trying to start over without the added pressure of a wedding.”
“Taking a step back is okay if it’s a two-step-forward-one-step-back situation. I hope they work it all out.”
Sheldon opened the Nutella jar and spooned a generous glob onto his toast. When Nora told him that Estella’s father was finally being released from prison, he went very still.
Nora saw a range of emotions flit across his face. “Hey. Are you okay?”
After another moment of silence, Sheldon said, “When I was a kid, my papa’s brother lived up the street. My cousin, Alvaro, was older than me and was the coolest cat around. He’d cruise through the neighborhood in this big, white Lincoln convertible with red leather seats—always with a beautiful woman. Always blaring music. He wore leather jackets—in Miami!—and slicked his hair back like a greaser from The Outsiders. He was our cubano Matt Dillon.”
“No wonder you idolized him.”
Looking wistful, Sheldon went on. “Alvaro was a smart kid. He got a full ride to college, but he didn’t go. All he cared about was cars. Fixing them. Driving them. Stealing them. He’d get caught, go to jail, get out, and start the cycle all over again. But the last time, there was a kid sleeping in the back seat of the car he stole. Alvaro never noticed.”
“Oh no.”
“By the time he got out from that stint, he wasn’t the Alvaro I knew. He used to be a fun-loving kid. He had style and swagger. But prison turned him into something else. Something lean and mean. And damaged. He couldn’t handle life on the outside, but he couldn’t handle going back either. So, one day, he tied a cinderblock to his ankle and jumped off a bridge.”
Nora waited for Sheldon to go on, but his gaze was distant. He was lost in the past.
Then he blinked and, pinching his toast between his thumb and forefinger, dropped it on a plate. “There’s a big difference between Alvaro and—I don’t know Estella’s father’s name.”
“Gus.”
“The difference between Alvaro and Gus is that Alvaro’s family never forgave him. They didn’t visit him in prison. They didn’t write. He was dead to them. Estella has been there for Gus. She visits, she writes, she makes sure he has enough money. She’s a good egg.”
Nora gave Sheldon a fond pat on the back. “So are you. You should eat and get out of here before the after-school crowd shows up.”
“I’m not going anywhere until we duke it out over the window display. I want ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’ You want Alice in Wonderland. Should we flip a coin or let our customers vote?”
“I thought this was a dictatorship,” Nora grumbled.
Sheldon grabbed a coffee stirrer and waved it like a flag. “Viva la revolución!”
As soon as Sheldon finished his snack, he affixed a sign to the comment box, asking for customers to weigh in on the next theme.
“Let the battle begin,” he said on his way out the door.
For the rest of the afternoon, Nora was too busy making espresso drinks and selling books, to notice who had voted for what. In truth, she’d be fine with either theme. What she most wanted was a glitter-free window display. Glitter stuck to everything, and no amount of vacuuming got rid of it completely, but if Sheldon had his way, every display would include glitter, tinsel, and disco balls. If Sheldon wanted “Jack and the Beanstalk,” it was because he had visions of bejeweled silver harps and glittery golden goose eggs.
Nora wanted an Alice in Wonderland window with less glitter and more nonfiction titles. They could feature books on vegetable gardening, insects, croquet and card games, cake baking, and hosting tea parties.
My theme might help the town’s new business too. The Mad Hatter could hold a little sign telling people to find their next adventure at Tea Flowers.
As Nora locked up that evening, she was already conjuring images of oversized mushrooms and books blooming in the center of tissue-paper roses.
She and Sheldon were proud of their current Read the Rainbow display, which featured a book rainbow and a silver pot filled with yellow books. The books had been written by BIPOC authors of every genre and Nora had printed a shopping list of all the titles to make it easier for her customers to shop for the books in the window.
With April coming to an end, Miracle Springs had shrugged off all vestiges of wintertime. The hillsides were a lush green, the trees were flowering, and pollen dusted every surface. A few more rains would wash away the rest of the yellow-green sneezing powder, and the residents of Miracle Springs would spend the month of May working on their gardens. Between the Honeybee Jubilee and the annual garden tour, locals would spend less time reading and more time outdoors. And since Nora was saving up to buy a car, she wanted every customer to leave her shop carrying a bag full of books.
She was thinking about her car budget as she walked along the edge of the parking lot behind the bookshop. When an SUV with a sheriff’s department seal pulled into a spot right in front of her, she stopped and waited for the driver to hop out.
“Parking in the loading zone, eh?” Nora said as she moved toward the man in uniform. “I’ll have to report you to your superior officer.”
Sheriff Grant McCabe hooked his thumbs through his utility belt. “I only answer to one person in this town. Maybe you know her? She sells books. She’s beautiful and smart. She can be a little bossy, but she has great taste in men.”
Laughing, Nora gave McCabe a hello kiss. “I didn’t expect to see you until later.”
“I know it’s my turn to make dinner, but my afternoon meeting ran way late so—”
“We’re eating out?” Nora guessed.
McCabe nodded. “We haven’t been to Pearl’s in a while. Do you feel like soul food?”
“Always. You can tell me about your day while I get changed.”
Grabbing her hand, McCabe raised his brows in suggestion. “How hungry are you?”
Nora studied the man she’d been friends with for years but had only begun to date a few months ago. McCabe was in his midfifties and bore a slight resemblance to Sam Elliot. Though he didn’t sport a mustache, McCabe had a perpetual five o’clock shadow. His salt-and-pepper hair was close-trimmed, he carried a little extra weight around his middle, and he had a low, rumbling laugh. Nora loved his dedication to his community, his sharp mind, and the way he listened with his whole being. Most of all, she liked sitting across a table from him, sharing food and talking.
“Lunch was a long time ago,” she said, her eyes dancing.
“I can get us there real fast. I have a siren.”
Nora shook her head in mock disappointment. “That’d be an abuse of power.”
As they walked toward her house, Nora told McCabe about Tea Flowers. She was about to describe how the tea bloomed in the pot when she saw a woven basket filled with flowering plants on the café table next to her front door.
“Do I have a rival?” asked McCabe.
“No idea. I saw a bunch of baskets just like this at Tea Flowers. All the flowers have different meanings and there’s a label explaining—oh!”
Nora leaped backward, ramming into McCabe’s chest. He grabbed hold of her upper arms, steadying her, and peered down at the basket.
In the center of the flowering plants was a dead blackbird.
McCabe took a tissue from his pocket and picked up the bird’s body. From the way its head bobbed limply to one side, it was obvious that the poor thing had a broken neck.
“Would you put it out there, in the grass?” Nora pointed at the verdant slope leading down to the train tracks. She often heard foxes barking in the night and knew there was a good chance they’d eat the bird carcass. That felt more in keeping with the natural order than tossing it in the trash. Besides, she didn’t want it in her house. Seeing it in the flower basket had already unsettled her.
While McCabe disposed of the bird, Nora carried the flower basket into her kitchen. She turned on the overhead lights and took a close look at her surprise gift.
The arrangement was made up of hyacinth, bluebell, and what Nora thought might be a pair of giant red dahlia blossoms. In North Carolina, dahlias were a summer plant, but this one could’ve come from a greenhouse. She’d never seen a dahlia with blooms as big as dinner plates, but when she gently pushed a bluebell stem aside, she saw that the dahlia stems had been pressed into a square of floral foam.
