Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(68)

“It’s been a long day for everybody,” said June.

The past ten hours had left their mark on Nora and her friends. Shadows bloomed under their eyes, and their shoulders drooped. Despite this, no one seemed interested in saying good night. They were all heartsick and weary, but they weren’t alone. Being together made the hard things easier to bear.

Estella wriggled out from under Nora’s feet and started loading damp towels, lotion, and Epsom salts into her tote bag.

Nora grabbed her hand. “I finally get why the whole washing feet thing is such a big deal in the Bible. Thank you for doing that.”

Estella wrapped a towel around her red hair and pinched the material together under her chin. “Just call me Mary Magdalene.”

“You should sign up for the Christmas pageant,” June teased. Estella took the towel off and held it against her chest. With her mussed hair and solemn expression, she looked like a little girl with a security blanket. “What will happen to Soothe? To Celeste’s gift baskets? Or her angel statue?”

Nora pictured the woman with the broken wing. Celeste had brought her to life. She’d chiseled and scraped and polished until the marble figure was her vision of Juliana, the inspiration for generations of Leopold women.

Juliana and Celeste belonged together.

“Celeste has to be buried with Bren,” Nora said. “Even if we have to organize a fundraiser to pay for it, we need to get that statue to the cemetery. She’s always been with Celeste.”

“She can watch over both of them now,” whispered Hester. “Mother and daughter.”

Knowing that Hester was probably thinking of her own daughter at this moment, a child she never knew but still mourned, Nora slipped her arm around her friend and kissed the top of her head. Hester’s golden curls smelled like honey.

June tapped the bakery box. “Time for your last dose of comfort before we go.”

Nora expected the box to contain a cinnamon raisin scone with a cream cheese glaze. Those were the flavors of comfort from her childhood. Whenever she was sick, sad, or injured, Nora’s mother would make her cinnamon raisin toast. After buttering the toast and covering it with a thin layer of cream cheese, she’d cut it into four squares that tasted like love.

Not long after they’d become friends, Hester had made Nora a comfort scone with the same flavors and feelings as her mother’s squares of cinnamon toast.

But this wasn’t the scone Hester had baked for her today. This one had ribbons of chocolate running through its golden pastry, and the dough contained hints of cream cheese and cocoa powder.

After a single bite, Nora was a college sophomore again. It was December, and she was moping in her dorm room because the major essay she’d worked on for weeks had been turned in late. Out of sheer bad luck, Nora had fallen on a patch of ice on her way to class and twisted her ankle. A maintenance worker had driven her to the infirmary, and by the time she’d been examined and treated, her class was over, and her professor had gone home.

Nora had thought all was lost. Even with a note from the infirmary, she believed her professor would grade her essay more stringently because of its tardiness. He hated tardiness and had made it clear that the only excuses he deemed acceptable were serious illness or death. A twisted ankle was neither.

Upon hearing her roommate’s sorry tale, Bobbie had gone out and bought two boxes of chocolate rugelach from her favorite bakery.

“Roo-ga-lah,” Bobbie had said, holding up a pastry that looked like a mini croissant. “Means ‘horn’ in Yiddish. They’re Professor Howard’s kryptonite. Swing by with a box during his office hours tomorrow, and he’ll accept your excuse with minimal grumbling.”

Bobbie’s prediction had been correct. Professor Howard had accepted the treats and Nora’s excuse. Brilliant, generous, wonderful Bobbie. How many times had she made Nora’s life better?

“You’re a million miles away,” June said, startling Nora from her reverie.

“I was back in college. With Roberta Rabinowitz.” Ashamed, Nora lowered her head. “When Bobbie showed up in Miracle Springs, it really knocked me for a loop. The old me—the me I never wanted to be again—came bubbling to the surface the second I saw her. F. Scott Fitzgerald was right. We’re all boats, borne back ceaselessly into the past. I was an idiot to think I could hide from it forever.”

She went on to tell her friends about her evening with Bobbie, including the fact that she and her college roommate had shared two bottles of wine.

“Did Bobbie know your ex-husband?” Estella asked.

Nora gave a little half shrug. “They only met twice, but she contacted him after I fell off the radar in hopes of finding me. I don’t know if they’re still in touch, and I don’t want to know. But I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth about Bobbie before now.”

“Honey, you have nothing to be sorry about,” June said with feeling. “And I want you to know something. The woman that Bobbie loved sounds just like the woman we love, so I guess you carried the best parts of you from one life to the next.”

Nora was about to tell her friends how much they meant to her when her phone lit up. It was in the middle of the table, which meant everyone could see that she’d just received a text. It was from Bobbie.

Hester pointed at the phone. “Does she know about Celeste?”