Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Faye goes for the first stack while I continue looking around the store, pleased with the warmth of it. Weather sucks in North Carolina when it’s mid-November and raining. Fortunately, the electric fireplace hums with life by one of reading nooks, the LED flames gleefully crackling, and the heater emitting enough heat to warm me up. I take off my jacket, feeling at ease as I begin to help Faye line the chairs into rows.
“You good today?” Faye asks as she sets up her last chair.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Just okay?” She eyes me as she picks up a clipboard.
“Could always be better,” I return with a shrug. “You know that.”
She lowers the clipboard with a sad smile. “Aw. What’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing,” I tell her, waving a hand. I could tell her about my Garrett situation, but I don’t feel like going there right now. “Listen, don’t worry about me. Let’s focus on your event tonight.”
She gives me a onceover, her eyes traveling up and down the damp length of me, then she sighs and says, “When the night is over, you’re telling me what’s really on your mind,” while pointing her pen at me.
I smile at her as she walks behind the counter of the café. She disappears behind the swinging door of the kitchen, and I turn to look at the front of the room where a red curtain hangs on the wall, a single microphone on a stand in the middle of the area. It’ll be where the guests perform.
Faye returns with a tray full of fruits and cheeses and hands it to me. “You can set these up on the back tables,” she says.
“Got it.” I take the tray and head to the square tables to set the individual plates down neatly. By the time I’m done unloading the tray, there are people entering the bookstore already, shaking the rain off, and murmuring to each other.
Faye welcomes them all in, scans their virtual tickets from their phones, and as she does, one of the employees enters, apologizing for her tardiness. Faye tells her it’s no big deal, but immediately gets her behind the bar of the café to get coffee going. Then she trots to me after getting some of the guests settled in, an anxious smile on her lips.
“I forgot the wine in the basement and more people are about to walk in,” she whispers nervously, wringing her fingers together. She only does that with her hands when she’s on edge.
“Hey, don’t worry.” I grab her hands. “That’s why I’m here. I can go get it. Where in the basement is it exactly?”
“On the shelf straight ahead when you go down the stairs. There’s a whole case in a black crate. You can’t miss it.” She wipes the skin above her brow with relief, even though there’s no sweat there.
“You’ve got it.”
“Thank you so much, Willow.”
A couple enters the store, and she smiles at me before rushing to greet them.
I make my way across the store, passing the employee lounge, which is set up with plenty of seating and tables, a refrigerator, microwave on the counter, and a box of what looks like donuts from Phil’s. I approach the oak door that leads to the basement and grip the copper doorknob, swinging it open. It’s dark as hell, so I immediately grab the switch above and yank it. The bulb in the ceiling illuminates the basement, buzzing as it clings to the light. Even with it, the idea of going down there creeps me out. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell Faye this. She’s my bestie and I can’t fail her now.
I glance over my shoulder as a woman walks out of the restroom with a relieved sigh, then I draw in a breath, exhale, and make my way down the rickety wooden steps.
I spot the black crate she mentioned before I even make it to the bottom of the staircase, and relief floods me because at least I won’t have to spend too much time searching for the wine.
I make my way across the basement, stepping between rumpled boxes and stacks of old books that smell like wet paper. There’s a small window above the shelf, and I can see the rain really coming down, pelting on the blades of grass.
Reaching the crate, I pull out one of the bottles of wine. Riesling.
“Good choice,” I murmur, studying the label. I check the alcohol percentage, but it’s as I’m checking it that I feel a cool gust of wind drift past me, shifting a strand of my hair.
Frowning, I lower the bottle and turn around, but when I do, my heart plummets.
Eight
WILLOW
Fear seizes me when I realize I’m no longer in the basement. I’m standing in the middle of a dirt trail, surrounded by spiky, skyscraper trees. The air is cool all around me, nearly freezing, and I shiver.