Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(16)
Nora cocked her head. “Sorry?”
“The article on page four.” At Nora’s blank look, Bea stared at her in surprise. “No one told you?”
Nora felt a prick of dread. “My phone’s been turned off. Can I see?”
“Oh, Lord.” Bea handed Nora the paper and moved to the far end of her booth to wrap the water pitcher.
Nora turned to page four and scanned headlines until the bold letters on the bottom third of the page jumped out at her.
LOCAL GROUP WARNS: BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU SHOP
The article opened with the line, “A special interest group, the Women of Lasting Values Society, is asking Miracle Springs consumers to take a closer look at area businesses. According to the group’s founder, Connie Knapp, being local and independently owned doesn’t guarantee that a business is worthy of our hard-earned dollars.”
“Oh, no,” Nora whispered. She knew where this was going but kept reading anyway. It was like being a passenger in a car on a collision course. There was no avoiding the crash, so Nora braced herself for impact and read on.
The article seemed to be a series of quotes given by Connie and some other group members. The women came across as concerned citizens and devoted mothers. They didn’t call out a single business by name.
Instead, they asked leading questions like, “Is a window display that includes symbols of witchcraft celebrating female empowerment or satanism? And can our impressionable children tell the difference?” or “Is CBD truly harmless, or is it the first step toward substance abuse? Would you buy medicine for a sick family member from a licensed practitioner or from a gift shop?”
A few members went on the defensive. A quote from Bethann suggested that Red Bird Gallery and Gifts had a notable lack of faith-based items for sale. Again, she didn’t mention the shop by name, but it was the only place in town that sold items made by the Cherokee. “I would never buy a dream catcher or a carved animal mask as a Christmas gift or wedding present. I want to spend money on items that reflect my family’s values instead of things that have no place in my belief system.”
The article was so biased that Nora had to pause midway through to check the byline.
“Olga Gradiva?” she spluttered. “She’s one of them!”
The article’s final lines warned the citizens of Miracle Springs to be aware of which area businesses might weaken the traditional family structure or negatively influence impressionable youth.
“Why are these harpies targeting businesses run by women?” Nora turned to find Bea staring at her. “Red Bird Gifts, Soothe, and my bookshop. It’s just wrong.”
Nora was so angry that she was shaking. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. But she was surrounded by people who’d probably read the same article. Regular customers and potential customers. And because of that, she had to mask her fury.
Bea didn’t bother haggling. She simply named a fair price and took Nora’s money. When Nora reached out to take her purchases, Bea grabbed her arm.
“I liked you from the start, book lady.” Her voice was tobacco-rough, but her gaze was tender. “You’re like me and mine. We work hard, take care of our own, and treat others right. But every now and then, folks come along and make trouble for us. You need to do what we do. Stand tall. Keep walkin’ your walk. Don’t let them change you. That’s when they win.”
Nora squeezed Bea’s hand in silent gratitude.
Not every woman in Miracle Springs was out to get her. She needed to remember that.
As she worked her way toward the exit, Nora felt eyes on her. The ticklish sensation on her back reminded her of the feeling she’d had after first meeting Celeste. But Celeste wasn’t her enemy. She was being targeted by the Women of Lasting Values Society too.
How many members do they have? Nora wondered, glancing around.
Spotting one of the tellers from her bank chatting with the manager of the grocery store, Nora raised her hand in greeting. They both averted their gazes, making a poor show of pretending they hadn’t seen her.
Keep walkin’ your walk, Bea had said.
Nora didn’t try to make eye contact with anyone else. She just wanted to get out of the barn. Sweat beaded her forehead. The air was stifling. It felt too thick to breathe. There were too many people. There was too much noise. People talking. People laughing. People slurping drinks. Someone cracked gum near Nora’s ear. To her, it sounded like gunfire.
Up ahead, light streamed through the open doorway and Nora lurched toward it, her bag of treasures swinging like a pendulum from her right hand. She swung it higher and higher, forcing people to skitter out of her way.
And then, finally, she was outside. She breathed in lungful after lungful of fresh, mountain air and wiped her forehead with the back of her shirtsleeve. After stowing her purchases in her moped’s storage compartment, she pulled on her helmet and drove out of the lot. Behind her visor, Nora’s eyes were dark with anger.
When she got home, Jed and Henry Higgins were sitting on her deck. She knew, just by looking at Jed, that he’d seen the article.
“Do you still want to go on that hike?” he asked.
“Violence is never the answer, but if I don’t tire myself out and clear my head a little, I might do something stupid.”
Henry Higgins was pulling on his lead, so Jed set him free. When the Rhodesian ridgeback nudged Nora’s palm with his nose, she bent over and kissed the burnished red fur on the top of his head.