The women turned to the display, eyeing the shimmery jewelry set against their backdrop of velvet. I was pleased that none of the women crinkled their noses as they took in the pieces. In fact, if anything, they seemed to be impressed.
“Did you make this one?” Bella asked, fingering a pair of tear-drop-shaped earrings that sparkled as they caught the twinkling lights.
“I did,” Aunt DeeDee said, pleased to turn to a different topic. “It’s become a hobby of mine of late. Those are made of topaz, and the color would go great with your skin tone. Do you like them?”
Bella nodded appreciatively, and I thought I caught of glimpse of humanity in her eyes. Aunt DeeDee had a way of bringing out the best in even the worst of people.
“Well, like I said, everything is on the house tonight.” Aunt DeeDee grinned before her eyes flitted to me. “Or maybe I should say that my niece has generously offered to pick up the final bill.”
Bella eyed me, seeming surprised that a girl like me had any extra funds. Not that I wanted people to know I had money, particularly if they might treat me differently, but if that knowledge somehow kept Bella in check the rest of the weekend, that was fine by me.
I gave my best Aunt DeeDee smile. “Select anything you like.”
FIFTEEN
After we finished cleaning out Aunt DeeDee’s stash of costume jewelry, bagging about a thousand dollars’ worth of accessories that she would bill to me, she kissed me on the cheek and squeezed Lacy’s arm. “Where are you gals off to next?”
“Two quick stops. And she’ll love them both.”
I handed Lacy the next clue. She read it silently this time.
If these walls could talk
they’d have stories of us to tell.
But now they hold
love-lorn tomes for sale.
Lacy squinted at me, trying to decipher the clue.
“It’s a place that we loved when we were kids but that’s been converted into something else entirely,” I hinted.
“Oh! The Old Soda Shop?” With the way Lacy’s eyes lit, I knew she was getting a second wind. We’d visited there for every major occasion in our classmates’ lives—birthdays, breakups, bat mitzvahs—to bag up peppermint sticks, saltwater taffy, and fireballs from the jars lining the counter.
“It closed a decade or soago,” Savilla clarified for the non-residents as she gently bounced Ollie, who was still asleep despite the squealing during the jewelry giveaways in The Attic. “Now it’s a bookstore—Sugar & Spice Books.”
“They have a spicy romance section to die for,” Jemma added, before catching our surprised expressions. “What? I’ve been back and forth from The Rose a lot the past few months, and I like my books extracaliente.”
I laughed as we walked down the stairs, single file and gripping the rail so as not to slide to our deaths. The temperature had fallen even lower, and as we entered the lamplit Sugar & Spice, we had to stomp the chill from our legs and feet.
I hadn’t yet been to the bookstore, but Savilla had recommended it when I was brainstorming the schedule for the bachelorette party. It was perfect, especially since Lacy and I had both been avid readers since middle school, when Aunt DeeDee would drive us to the only indie bookstore in Richmond. Her choice had always veered to romance, while my faves back in the day had been horse-girl books. After we had a stack to buy, Lacy and I would sit in the self-help section, pulling the most ridiculous adult titles we could find from the shelves. We would cackle as we read the titles likeYour Orgasm & You;Grave-Robbing Your Inner Demons; orHow to Set Your Marriage Aflame.
Looking around the store now, I guessed that the self-help section was small if non-existent. The offerings seemed to be entirely fiction and separated by genre. Giant tags—Sweet, Salty, Sour—hung at the top of bookshelves, and all of the books faced cover out, making a rainbow of color against the blue-gray walls.
“Welcome,” the owner—a forty-something woman with a lilting Southern accent—called from the back of the store. She’d agreed to give us a quick tour and then help us make spine poems, stacking books to write a message with the titles in honor of Lacy and Anton. “Come in, come in.”
But before we could begin perusing the shelves, a noise came from outside. We all turned toward the floor-length windowdisplay of popular novels just in time to see Charlie rear back and punch another man, flattening him to the ground.
I felt my pulse begin to race and I was first to the door, flinging it open and screaming Charlie’s name as the other man attempted to sit up, a hand on his jaw as if protecting it from another blow.
“Do not get up,” Charlie yelled at the man.
I hurried over and took my boyfriend’s arm. “What are you thinking?”
Charlie blinked several times as if he didn’t know who I was at first. I moved closer, taking his hand more gently this time as I tried to shake him out of whatever insanity had overtaken him.
“Charlie?” I said. “Look at me.”
