“Thank you.” Harper paused. “Where did Mrs. Belle live?”
“Just a few miles from here.” Betsy slipped the books into a paper bag stamped with a stone barn. “Not far from the covered bridge.”
Harper thought about the river streaming under the old bridge, the dirt path that doubled as a county road, the watery trail into the trees. The area where she remembered finding her own enchanted lake when she was a kid.
Was Mrs. Belle’s house near the lake?
“Who lives in her house now?” Harper asked, fishing for anything she could catch.
Betsy leaned across the counter. “Ghosts.”
Harper laughed, but Betsy didn’t join her.
“People have seen lights up there at night and shadows behind the curtains. It’s spooky.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Belle returned.”
The woman opened her mouth to answer but then caught herself as her fellow employee ducked under a rafter and stepped into the lobby.
Deidre eyed Harper’s shopping bag. “Looks like you found Via Belle’s section.”
“I did.” Harper lifted the bag. “Do you happen to know where—?”
Betsy cleared her throat and gave the slightest shake of her head as if warning her not to ask about the author’s residence.
Deidre moved behind the second register. “Did you need another book?”
Harper hugged the bag to her chest, not sure what to say.
“We’ve actually got several great spots around here for lunch.” Betsy dove back under the counter for a second map, this one outlining local roads instead of the many bookshop rooms. She tapped on a crossroads in Catawba. “But I think you’ll like Sunshine Café best.”
Deidre arched her eyebrows. “That’s because her daughter owns it.”
“It’s on the corner of Mulberry and Pine.” Betsy circled the location. “Rene serves the best sandwiches and soup around.”
Harper slipped the map inside the biography. “Thank you.”
Instead of driving straight to the café, she rolled down her window and followed Betsy’s map to the covered bridge. The solitude on the Pacific Coast, she loved. The brush of water on the shore and pounding waves against rocks. But here in the valley, the seclusion felt boxed in, fortified by trees and a maze of roads that could lose any driver not familiar with Pennsylvania’s backwoods.
The planks drummed as she drove across the bridge, their rhythm echoing between the ceiling and walls. Harper glanced at the bookstore bag beside her, the biography of Via Belle inside. Perhaps Mrs. Belle was the lady of Harper’s magical lake.
When she reached the other side, Harper pulled the truck off the main road and checked her map. There was no lake noted near the covered bridge or any information about Via Belle’s former house. She’d call Marcia before she lost service.
“My favorite niece,” Marcia exclaimed when she answered the phone. Harper loved how the woman always made her feel like family. “Is Boss Man keeping you good company?”
“Only when he’s hungry. His current strategy is to pretend that I’m not there.” Which meant he spent most of his day roaming on the opposite side of his cat door.
“He’ll warm up to you soon enough.”
As the clock on the dashboard ticked past the hour of one, Sunshine Café was starting to seem like a better plan than trying to find Mrs. Belle’s property. “I’m not so sure.”
“It’s a godsend to have you care for our house while we’re away.”
Like a housekeeper.That would make Kelsey laugh. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you letting me stay.”
“I’m having a hard time hearing you, hon.”
“I’m near the covered bridge.” Harper eyed the dirt road beside the river. “A woman at The Book Barn told me that Via Belle used to live around here.”
