Riley has grown very still.
“I know that’s weird that I have the same name as the woman who owned this bookstore, but let’s call it a coincidence. Just like Uncle Jon being gone when Miguel and his friend Dane showed up at our house, which led to him hitting it off with my mom.”
“Wait, you’re—”
“Fiona Foster’s daughter,” she offers. “Who’s the sister of Miguel’s favorite author, Jonathan Middleton-Biggs. Aka my Uncle Jon, aka the no-show.”
“I see.” Riley pauses, then says cautiously, “Is your mother in town here with you?”
“Nope.” Her hair flies back and forth as she shakes her head. “That’s the whole reason I’m here. She hates anything she thinks is even sort of unsafe for me, and somehow traveling to Michigan made the list. So, I decided to help her rip off the Band-Aid and get over it.”
“Oh, my word,” says Riley, agog. “You do know I’m going to have to call Miguel so he can call your mother, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I guess I’m somewhat relieved to know this is intentional. Can I trust you to stay put?”
“Obviously,” says Amelia Mae with a hint of amusement. “I’m here until Fiona is. And hopefully after that, too.”
“Well, good. Harold, please keep your new friend company while I go sort this out.”
Yes, she is my new friend. And having a new friend never gets old, even if the same cannot be said ofme.
“Ruh-roh, Harry,” she whispers as she watches Riley walkto the counter. “I have a feeling it’s about to get real around here.”
“Yep,” I hear Riley say as she cradles the phone between her shoulder and ear. “For about ten, fifteen minutes, maybe? I don’t know, but it couldn’t have been that long.” Her eyes dart to us as she listens to whatever Miguel is telling her. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yep, that’s her. Okay…thanks, boss.”
She hangs up the phone, then calls to us, “You two, don’t go anywhere until Miguel arrives. He’s going to call your mom.”
“Miguel,” says Amelia Mae, rolling her eyes at me. “Dum-dum needed me to disappear just to pick up the phone and call her. Sorry, Harry—I don’t mean to say mean things about your owner. The good news is, once they get here, I’m going to insist we stay awhile. I packed extra clothes.” She points to the backpack next to the chair, then winks and adds, “I’ll even cry if I have to.”
My Amelia was clever like that. When she told people how she became a writer, she’d talk about only being allowed to read religious material growing up. “I’m exaggerating, mostly,” she’d say with a grin. “But don’t you know, the Song of Solomon was my gateway drug to Johanna Lindsey and Judith Krantz. The rest is herstory.”
Oh, how I miss her.
But the other Amelia has decided that I’m too far away and has put her legs right next to my body and begun reading aloud to me again. And even though it doesn’t make me miss my Amelia any less, I still somehow feel better.
I just hope Fiona’s arrival will make Miguel feel that way, too.
Twenty-One
A few hours later, the sound of sandals slapping on the floor startles me awake.
“Amelia Mae!” Fiona’s striding toward the reading nook, where her daughter’s set up shop. Not that she had a choice—Miguel brought her a sandwich and a candy bar and has been watching her like a hawk from the register. Except he’s not there now. Where did he disappear to?
“Over here,” says Amelia Mae, waving her fingers in the air at her mother. “In Michigan, where I told you we should come visit? And whaddaya know, I already love it!”
Fiona throws her arms around her daughter. When she’s finally done squeezing the stuffing out of her, her expression says she can’t decide whether she’s proud or angry. “It’s a good thing I could get on the train right away.”
“You didn’t drive?”
Fiona shakes her head.
“Drat. I was hoping you’d work on your highway paranoia.”
“I donothave a paranoia—I just happen to have firsthand experience with the dangers of driving at high speeds.Regardless, I was on the verge of panicking, thinking of you making that trip all by yourself. Please don’t scare me like that, love. You know you’re all I have.”
I side-eye Fiona; she sounds exactly like Miguel right now.
