Hedidhave a million sick days saved up, not to mention the billion vacation days that were on top of that. He had always felt that going away wasn’t worth the trouble that he would be facedwith coming back. There would be so much work that would pile up, so many problems that would meet his return to the office.
But that wasn’t a good reason, not when there were problems in the office every day anyway.
“You know what?” he said on impulse. “Yeah. I will come.”
“What?” Eleanor’s yelp made him laugh, so full of excitement and surprise as it was. “You will?”
“Yeah,” he repeated, feeling more confident. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“It is a great idea! Okay, okay. So, I will make the plan. I have a guest room, and it’s not totally ready, but I can make it ready. Just give me a few days. Oh, heck, no, I can get it done faster than that, just let me?—”
“Okay, okay, slow down,” he said, shaking his head and grinning. “I’m in California, for one, and I’m not exactly rushing to the airport right this minute. I need to get some things squared away, need to apply for the time off. But I’ll make the plan. I promise.”
“Right,” Eleanor said, sounding practically out of breath. “Yeah. Obviously. I’m totally cool.”
“You’re totally cool,” he agreed. “Listen, I know it’s late where you are. I’ll talk to you in a few days with a little more information. I love you.”
“Love you too, Shane.”
He hung up, feeling honestly a lot better than he had when he’d gotten home a little while ago. And he decided, as he finished his lackluster ham sandwich, that he wanted to do it while looking at pictures of idyllic Magnolia Shore, Massachusetts.
CHAPTER THREE
“Do you have any books about witches, but not scary witches, nice witches?” Eleanor peeked down over her cash register to see an adorable little girl, perhaps seven years old, looking up at her… and wearing a witch’s hat.
“Oh, my goodness,” Eleanor said. “I assume you mean books about nice witches just like you?”
The little girl beamed, revealing a gap-toothed smile. “Yeah! I’m a witch, but Idon’tdo mean spells,” she said earnestly. “I do really nice spells.” She pulled a wand from her pocket and Eleanor practically melted. “Do you want me to do a good luck spell on you?”
Eleanor smiled. “I wouldlovea good luck spell.”
The girl waved the wand in an elaborate flourish, then pointed it Eleanor while doing jazz hands with her free hand.
“There you go,” she said brightly. “Now you will have good luck for seven days.”
Eleanor gave a little shiver as though she could feel the spell settling on her.
“Amazing. Now, my first act with good luck is going to be finding you some books about nice witches.”
Eleanor led the little girl, as well as her mother, who trailed behind, over to the section where she kept illustrated chapter books. She found a few different books that the girl seemed excited about, including some that were the start to a series.
“Thank you,” the child’s mom said as the little witch plopped directly down on one of the beanbags that Eleanor had put over by the kids’ books. “We’re here on a weeklong trip, and she breezed through all the books I brought with us in about two days. I’m thrilled that I raised a reader, of course, but if she could be atinybit slower, I wouldn’t mind that. Books are heavy for packing!”
Eleanor grinned. She could relate. She’d struggled through a few overburdened suitcases because of her reading in the past.
“Well, we’re here if you need to supplement the ‘to read’ pile again while you’re in town,” she said cheerfully.
“We appreciate it,” the mom repeated, crossing to her daughter’s side as the little witch waved her over to show something in the book she was reading.
The next customer she helped was Micah Peterson, an older gentleman who had taken to coming in once a week or so to purchase a new spy novel. Eleanor had taken to ordering things for him specifically. He was currently happily making his way through all the James Bond novels, although she had a few espionage stories set in World War II that she thought he would enjoy too.
“Ms. Eleanor,” Micah said, waving a paperback at her. “This Ian Fleming person knew his business. Did you know that my grandson looked this fellow up on the internet and it turns out he was a real spy? Isn’t that just fascinating?”
“It sure is, Micah,” Eleanor agreed. “Goodness, you’re moving through these books really quickly. You’re going to get me in trouble with Garrett if you aren’t doing your buildinghobbies anymore. Has he been seeing you around the hardware store recently?”
Her tone was teasing; Micah’s frown was a bit more serious.
“That boy would agree with me that you are nicer company that he is,” Micah grumbled.
