An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(74)

Maggie laughed. “That’s not likely to happen. Not that I’d mind.” She knelt and began to pull apart the iris tubers. “It’s probably nothing. I know she’s been busy with the end of classes.”

“It’s a busy time of the year.” Liddy resumed digging. “Did you hear old Mr. Lattimore is retiring?”

“Fred Lattimore, who owns the bookstore?”

“Yep. Word is his son wants him to sell it.”

Maggie paused her work. “I hope that’s just a rumor without substance. We’d have no bookstore in town. Unless someone buys it.” She considered the loss to the community. Grace stopped in at least twice a week for a new book or magazine, and Maggie often accompanied her. “What are the chances someone will buy it?”

“Pretty damned good.”

“What have you heard?” Maggie stretched. She hadn’t realized how out of shape she was. Time to get back to yoga. And maybe running, as she’d talked about doing. She should call Dee Olson, get some tips on training. Run a marathon was still on the list.

“I heard a certain woman with whom you are quite friendly—one might even say a BFF—is looking into the possibility,” Liddy said, her tone a tease.

“What? When would Emma have time to . . . ?” Maggie stopped and stared at Liddy’s back.

“Turn around.”

When she did, Liddy was grinning.

“Liddy? You’re thinking about buying the bookstore?”

“Fred’s son and I had a long chat yesterday afternoon. You know Fred is in his eighties, and he’s showing signs of Alzheimer’s. Carl—that’s Fred’s son, I don’t know if you ever met him, but he runs the hardware store—he said Fred’s becoming increasingly forgetful. Some days he forgets to open the store, so whoever is working that morning has to call Carl to come and unlock it. Other days, he forgets to lock up when he leaves. Or he forgets to leave. Carl said he’s had to run down there some nights at ten or eleven o’clock to pick him up. And a couple of nights, Brett has found him wandering around town late. He’s brought him to Carl’s several times.”

“That makes me so sad. I remember Mr. Lattimore always being in the store in the summers when Mom and I would take the girls for story hour. What a shame.” She brushed the dirt from off the back of her shorts and motioned for Liddy to follow her to the deck. “Hold that thought. I’m going to run in and get some drinks. Stay right there.”

She dashed into the kitchen, grabbed two glasses and a pitcher of ice tea, and took it all outside. Liddy held the door for her, and they sat at the round black iron glass-topped table Maggie had brought with her from her Bryn Mawr house.

“Talk,” Maggie said as she poured tea. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking I should be doing something with my life besides feeling sorry for myself. I’ve always loved that store. I used to take Jessie there every week to pick out a book. I spend so much time in that place I might as well buy it.” With a forefinger, Liddy traced the condensed drips of water that ran down the side of the glass. “I want to do something useful. And I don’t want Wyndham Beach to be without a bookstore. It’s too important for the town.”

“Can’t argue with that. You’d be a great bookseller. You know books, that’s for sure. Yes, I could see you owning that store, Lids.”

“Thanks. I told Carl to call me after he decides how much they want for it. They own the building, but he’s not sure he wants to sell it. Maybe just rent the space. He’s going to talk to their lawyer and get back to me.”

“Well, if it wasn’t so hot, I’d suggest we toast this bit of news with wine, but I know I’d fall flat on my face after just one glass.” She raised her ice tea and tilted it in Liddy’s direction. “So let’s drink to this new venture.”

“Possible venture.”

“This new possible venture, and we’ll cross our fingers and hope for the best.”

“And now, I suggest we get those iris in the ground,” Liddy said after she drained her glass. “Otherwise, when I tell the story about how I had to redo your garden for you, I might have to admit to being complicit in killing off your mother’s iris.”



Maggie spent the evening preparing for Natalie and Daisy’s arrival the next day. The guest room across the hall from Maggie’s was fluffed, with a vase of fresh daisies set upon the dresser. Thinking ahead to visits from her granddaughter, Maggie had ordered a double bed for Natalie with a trundle bed that pulled out from underneath so Daisy would have her own special place to sleep. When she got older, Daisy could have her own bedroom. The list Maggie had given Grace to take to the general store included some of Natalie’s and Daisy’s favorite foods, and several bottles of wine the three adults could enjoy. She was so excited when the car pulled into the driveway a little after four, she raced outside and flung open the rear passenger door to greet Daisy in her car seat.

“Sweet pea! I’ve missed you!” She swooped in and kissed the little girl’s face. “Hi, Nat! I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I missed you, Nana.” Daisy struggled to release her seat belt.

“Hold up, baby. Let me get that.” Maggie tried but once again was foiled by the intricacies of the car seat.