Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(22)

Gazing at the picnic area, Nora saw that Estella and Jack had joined her friends. Would Estella know how to handle Bren? Would any of them?

“What do you want?” Nora said.

Bren’s mouth curved into a small, secretive smile. “You’re like my mom—too old to understand. Too old to be daring. You pay your taxes and live your small, safe, polite lives. That’ll never be me. I found a shortcut, and I’m going to take it. So go back to your books, and your flannel nightie, and your cats. You’re killing my buzz.”

“Okay.” Nora stood up. “But just so you know, I don’t have cats. I live alone in a railroad car behind the bookshop. And if you ever need a friend, you can find me there. Day or night. Because you’re partially right about me. I used to live a safe, polite life. But it wasn’t a life. It was a lie.”

“So?” Bren blew smoke like a truculent dragon. “Did you just keep living it?”

“I set it on fire. And became someone else.” Holding out her scarred hand for Bren to see, Nora repeated what Celeste said the day her sculpture had been damaged. “Broken things are still beautiful.”

For just a second, Bren let her mask slip. And in that moment, Nora saw her for who she truly was. A lost and lonely young woman. What part did the man with the tattoos play in Bren’s life? Was he a lover? A father? Was he friend or foe?

“The railroad car behind the bookshop. Anytime.”

Bren stared straight ahead, so Nora walked away.

As she returned to the festival, she thought about how the right book at the right time could change a reader’s life. It could instill hope. Inspire courage. Elicit laughter. If anyone needed the companionship of books, it was Bren.

Nora didn’t head back to the picnic area. She simply moved with the crowd like a fish caught in a strong current, her mind totally focused on book titles.

“Jane Eyre, Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, Amber Smith’s The Way I Used to Be, Little Fires Everywhere,” she murmured.

She could leave the books on Bren’s doorstep. Maybe, just maybe, Bren would read one. Or all.

Someone grabbed Nora’s arm. “Were you just going to leave without telling anyone?”

Blinking, Nora came out of her trance.

“Are you okay?” Sheldon asked. “What happened with Wednesday Addams?”

“You were right. We need to hear her story. But we need to give her something first. Or I do. I need to give her some books. The right books.”

Taking Nora’s arm, Sheldon led her back to their friends.

Hester presented Nora with a baked apple. “This is from Estella. She and Jack decided to call it an early night.” She pointed across the park. “Bren left right after you did.”

Nora dug her spoon into the center of the apple, loading it with warm, sweet, cinnamon goodness. Then, she lowered the spoon. She wasn’t in the mood for a treat. Instead, she told her friends about her brief exchange with Bren.

“We’ll just have to keep trying until we get through to her,” said June.

Sheldon stroked his chin. “I have an idea. Why don’t you invite Bren for a midnight stroll? Maybe the cats will fall in love with her and leave us alone.”

“Oh, please. You’re crazy about those damned cats,” June scoffed. “I see you sneaking food to them when you think I’m not looking.”

Sheldon turned to Nora and whispered, “If you’re not going to eat that apple, can I take it home?”

June rolled her eyes. “You need to take yourself home. I should have cut you off after your second beer.”

“I’ll switch to water,” Sheldon promised. “I’m not ready to go home.”

None of them were. They sat at their picnic table and talked, listened to music, and did some people watching until their yawns became too contagious to ignore.

“The old farts are leaving,” June said, tugging Sheldon to his feet.

Sheldon looked like he was about to argue, but another yawn made that impossible.

After saying good night to the housemates, Nora and Hester decided to head home too. Together, they walked toward the bookshop.

“I parked in the lot behind your shop so I could look at your window again,” said Hester. “The night we finished working on it, I went home and wrote down a whole list of new flavor combos—things I’ve never dared to work with before but want to try. Hot peppers and wasabi. Black truffle salt and sumac. That window inspired me. It made me want to be bold.”

Too moved to speak, Nora squeezed Hester’s hand, and the two friends walked on in companionable silence.

Leaves drifted across the sidewalk and a harvest moon illuminated the quiet street. There was an edge to the night air, and Nora couldn’t wait to put on her pajamas and curl up on the sofa with a blanket and a book.

To her immense relief, all was well at Miracle Books. There were no devils in any form, so after gazing at the window for a few minutes, she and Hester headed to the parking lot.

“Jasper will swing by again before his shift ends,” Hester said as she got into her car. “Thanks for a great date.”

Nora watched her friend drive away before turning toward home.

Suddenly, the space above her pinkie knuckle began to tingle. Nora covered it with her other hand, hoping to stop the sensation but knowing that she’d fail. She didn’t want to feel phantom pins and needles in flesh that wasn’t there. Not only did it make her feel seasick, but she knew from experience that the tingle was an omen. And it was never a good one.