Deidre eyed her curiously. “No one’s asked for a Via Belle book in ages.”
“My mom was a big fan.”
Deidre tapped the counter with her pencil as if trying to solve her own mystery. The shelves behind her were packed with book spines, some shiny new, others subdued in sun-worn leather. “Are you here on vacation?”
“No, I’m house-sitting for my aunt and uncle.”
“I probably know your family.” Deidre typed into her computer as she talked. “I’ve lived in this area my whole life.”
“Gerald and Marcia Sutton.”
Deidre studied Harper again like she was trying to filter out the truth. “They never mentioned a visit from their niece.”
And she didn’t intend to explain that even though she called them aunt and uncle, they weren’t actually blood related.
“I just want to buy a book.” Not pick a fight or explain how the Suttons were her heart family.
As Deidre searched for the books in a computer, Harper eyed the racks of books at the entrance, creating three neat rows up to the front registers. During the weekends, this lobby must be flooded with shoppers.
“We have four of Mrs. Belle’s titles.” Deidre traced her finger down the computer screen. “They’re on the third floor in the blue barn, catalogued in the historical fiction section.”
“Do you have a biography about her?”
“None that I can see.”
Harper had envisioned an entire section with the local novelist’s autographed works, in one of the endless halls that Brett described, not tucked away in the attic. “How do I find the blue barn?”
Deidre retrieved a paper map from under the counter, then spread it out. She circled a blue block, two buildings down from the lobby, and pointed to her left. “Follow the hall until you reach the blue sign. Take the stairs to the second floor, and you’ll pass by three rooms with biographies.” She circled a room on the map. “The next one is dedicated to historical novelists from A to C.”
Harper ducked under the doorway’s low-hanging rafter and entered a room plastered with bricks and mortar behind thousands of shelved books, the rows void of chairs as if the lack might ward off customers tempted to spend their day reading instead of purchasing books. The floor slanted and wobbled in places like tree roots underneath had traveled amuck in their desperate search for reading material. Perhaps the roots would snagThe Loraxoff a shelf orThe Giving Tree.
Really, someone should shoot a movie in this place. The discarded book characters could come alive in the late hours, like the displays inNight at the Museum.
On the soundstage of Harper’s mind, musketeers began swashbuckling down the aisles while characters fromPride and Prejudicedanced in a far corner. And then flames—the attic fire inJane Eyre. Queens and beggars and a magnificent mash-up of a thousand children’s characters.
In that script,Forrest Gumpreally could meetThe Princess Bride.
By the time she’d reined in her roving mind, a sign welcomed her to the yellow barn. A quick consultation of the map, and she doubled back through the arteries of the blue building to search for a staircase.
“Are you lost?”
Deidre scrutinized Harper like she might be a book thief. With the detailed map in her hand, she couldn’t pretend to be lost.
“Just meandering.”
“The steps are right behind you.”
The doorway, partially closed, blended into the old-world walls. “Got it.”
“Second floor and then fourth room on the left.”
The door creaked when it opened, alerting anyone in the blue space that she was about to ascend. Down a precarious hallway, Harper found the historical fiction section clearly marked along with three Via Belle novels instead of four, but alongside the fiction was a biography, just like she’d hoped, catalogued in the wrong section.
Lady of the Lakewas its title, with a photograph of Via Belle sitting on a hearth, the fireplace behind her built from river rock. Mrs. Belle cradled a bundle of calla lilies in her lap, her hair plaited into a bun. According to the book flap, Elijah Lamb wrote the biography in 1965. A relative, perhaps, of the Ingrid Lamb who’d made her stew.
Harper tucked the biography under her arm along with a novel calledSilver Summer, then wove her way down through the labyrinth.
Another saleswoman worked the front counter, filling two bags for another customer as she gnawed on a wad of gum. Harper scanned thefaux trees in the lobby for Deidre. Surely gum was forbidden among all this paper.
