She smiles brightly. It’s genuine and full of life. "Well, we were supposed to be." The woman looks to the sky, rolling her eyes so subtly you’d almost miss it. "But I sorta gave the owner a hard time yesterday, and this is my penance."
"Wait, really? Beau has always been so kind to me. He still owns it, right?"
She laughs, nodding. "Yes, Beau still owns Black Kettle. And no, I was just kidding. I came in to work on some restorations that needed finishing. I have a few people coming in to pick up orders, and I just figured why not open for a few hours before the rush begins." She takes a step toward the entrance. "Do you want to come in and look around?"
Following her through the door, I remember why this was my top hangout spot growing up, aside from the library. It smells like old books, vanilla candles, and something I can’t quite put my finger on. Not much has changed in terms of decor. It still has the sliding ladder along the wall for books stored on thetop shelves, the tables that line the center of the room—and a personal favorite—the large bay window that’s cushioned for in-store reading.
"Do you need me to help you find anything?" Olive asks, pulling off a cream cardigan to reveal the most magnificent tattoo I've ever seen. It’s so vibrant with pumpkin vines twisting and toiling amongst little pictures. Max explained it briefly, but seeing it in person is on another level.
I shift slightly, edging toward the stacks. "No, I think I’ll just take a look, see if anything jumps out at me." Olive nods, then proceeds toward the back, presumably to the restoration desk that’s been there as long as this place has been open.
Running my finger along the edge of the spines, I search for the romance section. Since finishing Jules’ books, I’m thinking something else a little steamy but light-hearted, might serve as a needed distraction from the man I’m trying not to like. A loud thud sounds from somewhere behind me, but I ignore it, pulling a classic Cassandra Moll off the shelf. I think this might be her first series, a mechanic and teacher romance—the perfect fictional world to fall into.
"Did you drop this?" Olive’s voice rings out from over my shoulder. Spinning, I glance at the book she’s holding.
"No?"
"Hmm, weird. Must have just gotten knocked loose." She places it back on the shelf and walks away.
Tucking the book I selected under my arm, I continue perusing the selection. There’s everything from dark romance to historical tales featuring men in petticoats and trousers on the covers. I prefer contemporary, but maybe there’s something to a swoony read about a man who’s an estate owner in nineteenth-century Europe.
Another loud thud sounds, this time near the back of the store. It’s quite a commotion, with several huffs coming from Olive’s direction. "Are you okay?" I call out after a beat of silence.
Olive rounds the corner, walking toward me with annoyance in every step. "Why did you throw this at me?" She taps her foot and places a hand on her hip. "I thought you said you didn’t drop it."
"I didn’t. What are you even—"
She shoves the book toward me. It’s as thick as a dictionary, bound in black leather that’s worn from age. The front reads:A Guide to the World’s Most Difficult Crosswordsin thick gold lettering.
My mouth pops open as my face twists. "You have to be kidding me," is all I can manage.
Olive huffs, tapping her foot more aggressively. "I’m not kidding, and I don’t find it funny. I let you in here to be nice."
Holding my hands up as much as I can with a book wedged under my arm and a coffee in the other, I attempt an apologetic smile. "I’m so sorry. I know this sounds wild, unbelievable even, but I didn’t. I wasn’t anywhere near the shelf you just placed that on."
"So I'm supposed to believe there's a ghost or—"
I see the moment realization blooms on her face. The knowledge that she and I both share, but haven't discussed—some things in Mage Hollow are truly inexplicable.
"I promise, you can ask Beau about me. I’ve never been one to disrespect books, and I can’t even really hold one right now." I nod toward my bandaged hand. "I swear."
Olive releases a breath, and her shoulders slouch. "You're Howie’s cousin?"
"The very one." I motion toward my chest. "And you’re Max’s sister-in-law?"
Her bright smile returns as his name drifts out of my mouth. "Yes. Sam’s fiancée." Her face contorts into something a smidge sympathetic. "We should talk sometime. Get to know each other."
"I won't be in town long, but maybe…" How do I say that I really appreciate her kindness but am just looking to get out of here and back to work without being rude. She's offering to help, even if she's not explicitly saying it, and it makes me wonder if Max told her about what's going on, or if this is just some weird cursed kindred spirit vibe she's caught onto. I smile at her. "That’d be—"
The bells on the door chime, and none other than Max’s voice rings out. "Yo, Ollie. Does Beau know you turned on the open sign?"
My stomach leaps into my throat.Perfect!I was successful at avoiding him for less than twelve hours, most of which I was asleep.I can’t face him right now, can’t discuss what happened when I haven’t had enough time to process how I feel about it.
Olive turns, heading toward the front of the store, presumably to greet Max. I need to find a way to get out of here without him noticing me. I inch as quietly as I can to the end of the row I’m in, peering beyond the end cap for a back entrance. Shoot, it’s on the opposite wall but too far into the opening.
Olive and Max continue talking about the store and the festival, their voices growing louder with each step they take. Channeling my inner cat burglar, I back up, but even at a slow pace the clack of my sandals is too loud, too echoey. Glancing side to side, I drop to my knees, abandoning the book and coffee I was holding, and crawl toward my escape.
Is this mature? No. Do I care right now? Based on my pounding heart, also no.
