A stray hair brushed her lips. Reaching into her jeans pocket, she pulled out a hair tie and deftly gathered her thick black hair into a ponytail. On days like today, keeping her hair out of her way was essential. On impulse, she turned and examined her face in the tiny mirror that her mom had hung behind the sales counter years ago. A big believer in the power of looking one’s best, her mom had often stood where Penny was standing right now, murmuring as she touched herself up, “Audrey Hepburn was right,mija: ‘On a bad day, there’s always lipstick.’”
Penny smiled. Mom was a bigger believer in makeup than she was, but the two of them agreed that one’s appearance mattered. The mascara she’d applied this morning was holding up fine, but her lips were dry —they were always dry this time of year —so she pulled out her lip balm and applied another protective layer. A quick perusal of the rest of her face —her vivid brown eyes, her perfectly acceptable nose and eyebrows and cheeks —confirmed that all was fine.
One of her long-time employees, a friendly woman named Nancy, emerged from the back pushing a cart of book toward the table near the front where the best-sellers were prominently displayed.
“I’ll flip the sign to ‘Open’ as soon as I finish putting these out,” Nancy said. “How’d it go with Luke?”
“He’ll be back this afternoon to fix the leak.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“He says we caught it early, which is good,” Penny added, deciding that now was not the time to mention the new roof. “I might need help later clearing away space upstairs for him to work.”
“Got it.” Nancy gestured toward the back of the store. “You remember what this morning is, right?”
Penny smiled. “How could I not?”
Nancy laughed. “Need help getting ready?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Who do you think will arrive first?”
“I’ll go with … Donald?”
“My money’s on Hettie Mae. Care to make it interesting?”
Penny laughed. Donald and Hettie Mae were avid participants in the bookstore’s monthly reading group and had a habit of arriving early to help with setup. Penny had been tempted to cancel this morning’s meeting, given how busy thestore was, but rescheduling would have created headaches of a different sort, so the gathering was going ahead as planned.
Nancy finished adding the books to the front table and stepped to the front door. “Ready for another day of holiday madness, boss?”
“Ready.”
“Then without further ado,” Nancy said, flipping the sign, “The Tattered Page is open for business!”
CHAPTER 2
The enthusiasm in Nancy’s voice warmed Penny’s heart. For forty-two years and counting, The Tattered Pagehad been an integral part of the fabric of life in Heartsprings Valley. Penny’s newlywed parents, Bob and Carmen Quinn, had started the store with little more than a love of books and a willingness to work hard. For them, the bookstore had represented a leap into the unknown, a chance to work together on a shared dream. Though their early years had been lean and challenging, they’d persevered and eventually found their footing. The bookstore was now a treasured local institution and a draw for book lovers throughout northern New England.
For Penny, the bookstore meant even more. She’d grown up amongst its bookshelves. She knew —adored — every nook and cranny. Throughout her childhood, she’d spent countless hours in her special seat behind the sales counter, devouring book after book while her parents rang up customers.
And now, with her parents’ recent retirement, management of the bookstore had passed to her. For probably the millionth time, her gaze wandered over the place she’d always thought of ashome: the original oak bookshelves running all the way upto the ceiling, the display tables loaded with new fiction and nonfiction, the silver tinsel framing the front windows. Over the store’s sound system, the local radio station was playing a cheerful ditty about a certain red-nosed reindeer.
A gentle chime of the front door’s silver bell pulled her from her reverie. The day’s first customer had arrived, bringing with her a gust of brisk winter air.
Penny smiled when she saw who it was.
“Good morning, Hettie Mae,” Nancy said enthusiastically, throwing Penny a triumphant,I-guessed-rightlook.
“Morning, Nancy,” Hettie Mae replied as she shut the door behind her. “You’re certainly in a good mood this morning.”
“Penny and I were just speculating about who would arrive first, and I bet on you.”
Hettie Mae smiled. A tall woman in her seventies with excellent posture and a forthright manner, she had served as the town’s librarian for decades and now kept herself and her husband busy with an active travel schedule. “I see.”
“Morning, Hettie,” Penny said from the sales counter. “How was the cruise?”
“Oh, wonderful. The Rhine River during the holidays —nothing like it. We got back two nights ago.” She reached into her handbag, approached the counter, and handed Penny a small, gift-wrapped box. “I brought this back for the store.”
