Sue bit the inside of her lip.
“What?” Lorna asked. “That doesn’t make you happy?”
“I’ve spent my adult life making sure Hank’s house was just as he wanted it.” Sue gave a dejected shrug. “I find it sad that my magical power is cleaning.”
“Our gifts aren’t always what we want, but what we know how to do,” Vivien said. “Lorna’s a healer and finder because that’s who she’s been her whole life. She takes care of others. I’d rather not be in people’s heads all the time, and I know Heather would love not to have ghosts yelling in her ear for attention when she’s talking to people.”
“True that.” Heather looked around the lobby. She ran her finger over several surfaces. “You did a damn good job.”
“I wouldn’t look at it as a disappointing thing.” Lorna crouched down to look at the floor. “I’d think of it as you spent so much time cleaning, you don’t have to do it anymore. It’s a reward for time served.” She gave a low whistle. “Wow, these floors look brand new out of the factory. Even the grimy rubbery smudge is gone. I’ve been scrubbing at that thing for months.”
“I need some air.” Sue looked at the door, nervous about going through it to the other side.
“Air or coffee?” Vivien nudged her arm. “I could go for coffee.”
“You’re in pajamas,” Heather pointed out.
“Sue’s not.” Vivien grinned. “Sue can pick up coffees for us. Can’t you, Sue?”
Sue felt her cheeks turning red.
“Oh, please, Sue, please,” Lorna begged.
Vivien gave a meaningful look at Heather, who quickly added, “Oh, yeah, I could sure use a coffee. And by coffee, I mean a vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso.”
“Same,” Heather said.
“Same for me too. I’ll get you cash,” Lorna offered, moving toward the back office.
“No, this is on me. It’s the least I can do.” Sue didn’t feel like she had much of a choice and finally forced herself to go outside. She glanced back as the door closed, but instead of Hank’s reflection, she saw Vivien smiling at her. The woman gave her a thumbs up and waved at her to go.
Chapter Ten
Sue intentionally did not look into reflective surfaces as she walked down the sidewalk toward the coffee shop. Instead, she focused on her steps and her breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
Jameson already told her Stu covered the coffee shop in the morning, so she didn’t expect to see him there. She opened her purse as she walked and pulled out the loyalty card for the free latte and ran her finger over his signature on the back. Remembering their night together doing inventory, she smiled.
Someone bumped into Sue’s arm, catching her attention.
“Oh, sorry,” a woman said with a laugh, holding up her cell phone. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Sue smiled and started to answer, but realized the woman was in the middle of a video chat and hadn’t been apologizing to her.
“I know what you’re doing,” the woman said to the phone screen. “Don’t think I don’t.”
Sue ignored the woman and put the card back in her purse. As silly as it might seem, she wasn’t going to redeem it. She turned the corner, and her eyes automatically searched for the coffee shop entrance. She quickened her pace. A large group walked in before she could reach it. She slowed her step.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Sue glanced down at the sound. Ace the cat stared up at her, pawing the window as if to get her attention. His fluffy white body was settled between a book on finding inner peace and a romance novel. The long fur seemed to swallow the edges of the covers. His mouth opened, and she heard the faintest meow.
Sue didn’t think as she went into the bookstore. A tiny bell dinged overhead. Ace appeared in front of her and looked back. The second she reached out to pet him, he started walking away. He went several feet before glancing around as if to make sure she followed him.
“Aren’t you the little rascal?” Sue whispered. The old wooden floorboards squeaked as she walked on them. “Playing hard to get.”
Ace led her to a hollow square-shaped sales counter in the middle of the shop and disappeared behind it, knocking open a café swinging door with his body. She peeked over the side but didn’t follow the cat in.
Sue turned to study the bookshop. On each side of the sales counter were two different sections. To the right stood a small stage with chairs around it. She assumed for visiting authors. To the left, more books were stacked neatly on the taller shelves. Handwritten labels separated them by category. Author quotes were painted in fine script on the walls, so tiny she had to lean close to read them. Old paperbacks were stacked to create unique patterns with their worn pages and cracked spines on a shelf toward the very back marked, “Well Loved.”
She liked that, well loved. It was so much better than, used or old or discarded.
It occurred to her that as people aged and became worn and cracked, they should be able to say they were well loved. Not discarded. Not old. Not useless or used or past a prime.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Not thrown into a trunk on their fortieth birthday because their worth was over, because all that was left was age on a once youthful face and extra padding on hips.
It was a memory she had tucked away into the deep recesses of her mind because it was too painful to relive. Hank didn’t try to kill her because she’d done something wrong, or because she was a crappy housewife, but because he knew that she would get old like any other human, and he could not have his image tarnished by her wrinkles.
“Meh,” Ace loudly protested her line of thought from somewhere behind the counter, drawing her out of the memory so she could lock the door on it once more.
Sue gave a small laugh and said under her breath, “Meh, is right, buddy.”
There was something safe and charming to small independent bookstores. The most notable being that there were no televisions for ghosts or magic to possess. Bookstores were so innocent looking, so warm and welcoming, like a giant hug waiting to invite you in. And yet, they were filled with every imaginable adventure known to man. Spotting an alien romance cover, she chuckled and corrected—known to man or extraterrestrial.
The wealth of human experience could be read in books. Here those alien romances mingled with highbrow literature, both equal but with different purposes—one to inform, the other to entertain. Classics danced with nonfiction. They all waited for someone to pick them up and lay them open, to explore everything they had to offer.
What kind of person ended up owning a place like this? In a town like Freewild Cove? Next to a coffee shop with Jameson as an owner?
What did she want?
Who could she be?
Could she be this?
Her hand tingled, a sign she now knew to heed. The dream became quietly clear. She wanted honest, thoughtful work. She was meant to be here, in this place. When she followed Ace inside, she had expected to pet him, maybe browse as she waited for the large group to get their coffees. Instead, she had been struck unexpectantly with something more. She turned a slow circle, looking around as the image of a future dared to become apparent.