“Morning, all,” he called cheerfully. “Special delivery for The Turned Page. Those Emerald Pearl books you ordered, plus a few surprises.”
“Surprises?” Eveline asked, moving to sign his clipboard.
“Yep. Publisher sent over some signed copies in a separate box,” Ollie said, gesturing to a smaller package on top of the stack. “Limited editions or something. Said you'd want to display them prominently.”
“How thoughtful,” Eveline said dryly, though she had to admit the signed copies would likely sell well, especially with the Romance Book Club's continued interest in Pearl's work.
“I'll help unpack those,” Emery said, returning from the back room, laptop safely stowed away.
The shop door opened once more, and a striking woman with dark hair, impeccable red lipstick, and an air of barely contained energy strode in. Her gaze swept the shop until it landed on Emery, and her face lit up with recognition.
“Emery, I've been looking everywhere for you,” she announced, her voice carrying through the quiet shop.
Emery's head snapped up, eyes widening in what looked like alarm. She shot the woman a look so sharp that Eveline could almost feel it slice through the air. The woman faltered mid-step, seeming to realize she'd said something wrong.
“Domi,” Emery said, her voice unnaturally bright. “What a surprise! I didn't expect to see you today.”
An awkward silence descended, during which some unspoken communication seemed to pass between Emery and the newcomer.
“Eveline,” Emery said finally, “this is Dominique Fischer, an old friend from university. Domi, this is Eveline Auclair, the owner of The Turned Page.”
“Enchantée,” Domi said, extending a manicured hand toward Eveline. “Emery has told me so… much about your charming bookshop.”
“Has she?” Eveline said, shaking Domi's hand while trying to ignore the prickle of suspicion at the back of her neck. Something felt off, though she couldn't quite place what.
“I was just in the neighborhood,” Domi said smoothly, “and thought I'd stop by to see where Emery's been spending all her time lately. I can see why she's so enamored with the place.” She glanced meaningfully between Emery and Eveline.
Emery shifted uncomfortably. “Domi was just leaving, weren't you, Domi? I know you have that important… thing.”
“Oh, but I only just arrived,” Domi protested, though her smile had become slightly fixed. “And I'd love to see—“
“The thing, Domi,” Emery interrupted firmly. “The very important thing you can't be late for.”
Understanding finally seemed to dawn on Domi's face. “Right. The thing. Of course.” She checked her watch theatrically. “Look at the time. I really must dash.” She air-kissed Emery's cheeks, whispering something Eveline couldn'thear, then headed for the door. “Lovely to meet you all. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon.”
As the door closed behind her, Emery exhaled visibly.
“Old friend, hmm?” Eveline said, raising an eyebrow.
“Very old,” Emery said quickly. “We don't see each other much these days. Different lives, you know how it is.”
Before Eveline could probe further, Ollie cleared his throat. “So, about these boxes…”
“Yes, let's get those unpacked,” Eveline said, turning her attention back to the delivery. “I'll take the signed copies if you and Zara want to handle the regular stock, Emery.”
She picked up the smaller box and carried it to the counter, using a letter opener to slice through the packing tape. Inside, nestled in protective foam, were ten beautifully bound hardcover editions ofThe Woman Without a Past, each bearing an elegant bookplate with Emerald Pearl's signature.
Eveline lifted one out, admiring the quality of the binding. A promotional packet accompanied the books, containing glossy bookmarks and a signed note from the author to readers. As she examined the signature, something tugged at her memory.
The flowing script, the distinctive way the 'P' looped back on itself… it looked familiar.
Eveline glanced over at Emery, who was carefully unpacking books from another box, her head bent in concentration as she arranged them in neat stacks. Then she looked back at the signature.
A cold feeling washed over her. No, it couldn't be. It was impossible. And yet…
Eveline pulled open the drawer beneath the counter where they kept the shop's paperwork. She rifled through until she found an order form Emery had signed the week before. Holding it next to the promotional material, she compared the signatures.
Not identical, of course. One was clearly more practiced, more stylized. But there were definitely similarities. The same flowing hand, the same distinctive loop on certain letters.
