Chapter Two

I unlocked the front door of the bookstore at ten.  I’d wrapped my ankle, iced it, and taken Ibuprofen.  Although it wasn’t just like new, it was definitely feeling a little bit better.  With Winston at my heels, I hobbled down the front walk with the blackboard easel advertising free cookies; I was hoping to lure passersby into the shop.  Caroline pulled up in her car as I finished setting it up, waving as she turned into the driveway.  I’d just limped back into the store when my daughter came through the back door, to be just about bowled over by an ecstatic Winston, whose face was now being bathed in kisses by Winston.

“Did you miss me, buddy?” she asked, squatting down and letting him cover her face with kisses.  Then she scooped him up and hugged him.  “Who’s my best boy?”

“He loves having you in town,” I said, feeling my heart swell with love at the sight of my nineteen-year-old daughter,

“You need a bath!” she said as he wriggled in her arms.

“I know,” I said.  “If you’re up for it, I’d love it.”

“Maybe once I’ve had breakfast,” she said.  “I picked up a bagel for you.  Everything, right? With scallion cream cheese.”

“Thanks.  I call it the ‘Date Repeller Bagel,’” I joked.  Her face stiffened, and I regretted the comment immediately.  My divorce from her dad was still fresh, and Caroline was having a hard time adjusting.  Ted, my “wusband,” had been seeing a glamorous bestselling author for several months now; she was spending so much time at Ted’s house in Boston that Caroline had decided to move to Snug Harbor so she wouldn’t be confronted with the new reality every day.  Now that I was seeing Nicholas Waters, whom I’d had a crush on twenty-five years earlier when I spent summers in Snug Harbor, it was getting a bit awkward for me, too.  I was almost glad my small apartment didn’t have room to house my daughter; she was bunking with my mother, whose house wasn’t far away.

“I’m supposed to be going blueberry picking this afternoon,’ I said, attempting to change the subject.  “Maybe you can make that lemon blueberry Bundt cake you made last summer?”

“Maybe,” she said, but the enthusiasm I’d briefly seen was gone.  That seemed to be the case in general for Caroline right now; I was beginning to wonder if she should see someone.  While her twin, Audrey, seemed to be adjusting well, my normally bright and energetic Caroline was not.  She was taking a “gap year” from college, but she didn’t seem to have much of a plan, and seemed somehow to be adrift.  She was working part-time for me, being trained by my assistant, Bethany, and theoretically looking for another job; unfortunately, until sales picked up, I couldn’t afford to hire her full-time.

“How’s the signing scheduling going, by the way?”

“I’ve got a local author scheduled for this Friday.  Janice Morton’s her name; she writes a series of mysteries set in Acadia National Park.  Bethany ordered the books, and they should be here Thursday.”

“That sounds fun,” I said.  “I’ve never heard of her before.  Are the books good?”

“I don’t know,” she said.  “We e-mailed, and she said she was available, so we went for it.  Bethany wrote a press release and is sending it to the paper.  Have you put up the Facebook page for the bookstore yet?”

“Not yet,” I said.  It was on the list of things that needed doing, but something about having to keep up with a social media page made me nervous.  “Do you think you might take a crack at it?”

She brightened a bit.  “Actually, that might be fun.  Can I try?”

“That would be great,” I said.  “We probably have to post things every day, though.”

“How about a picture of Winston with a new book every week?” she suggested.  “Or a picture of the cookies you’ve got available?”

“That’s a terrific idea!” I said.  “I really need to do something to boost sales.  I love our location, but we’re a bit off the beaten path.  We should probably sit down and brainstorm ways to get more customers in the door.”

“Have you considered selling something other than books?”

“Um… it’s a bookstore,” I pointed out.

“I know,” she said.  “But… I don’t know.  Souvenirs.  Locally made crafts.  Maybe some Maine-based blank books, and pens, and balsam sachets with quotes from Maine writers.”

“That’s really creative,” I said, but inside, I was wondering how to afford to buy all that merchandise.

“You could sell some of the stuff on consignment,” she suggested, as if reading my mind.  “And I can get some fabric printed with the quotes and do some of the sachet sewing myself.  Maybe start a cottage business.”

“It’s worth a shot,” I said, wondering at this change in my daughter.  It had been this way recently: spurts of enthusiasm followed by apathy.  Would this one last?  “How do we find the people who do crafts?”

“Put it on the Facebook page,” she suggested.  “Say you’re taking applications for people who want to sell things at the store.  You take a cut, and if you have enough unusual things in here, it makes us more of a destination.”

“I don’t want to be a craft store though,” I said.  “I still want to be a bookstore.”

“Of course, Mom,” she said.  “How about groups?”

“What do you mean, groups? Bethany’s got a mystery writing group that meets every week.”

“Yes, but what about a book club? Maybe you could order special copies—signed, even—from the publishers.  If you host it, people would come here, talk about the book, browse, and maybe buy some more books.”  She bit her lip.  “It would really create a community.  You might even put a cafe in here…”

“All right, all right,” I said, putting my hands up; the suggestions were overwhelming, but I was thrilled to see a spark of enthusiasm in my daughter’s eyes.  “I love all these ideas—they’re amazing—but let’s stick to one project at a time.  As for a cafe? I barely have room for the books, much less a cafe.”

“You’d have to build an addition.  Or maybe put some of it upstairs.”

“And live in a tent in the back yard,” I joked.

“The building next door is for lease,” she pointed out.  The small shingle-style shop next door had been through multiple incarnations over the years; when I was a kid in Snug Harbor, it had been an ice cream store and an art gallery.  Until recently, it had been a T-shirt store, but the owner had closed up shop at about the same time I moved to town.  I hoped Seaside Cottage Books wouldn’t follow suit.

“Let’s start with a Facebook page,” I said.  Renting a building and adding on space was definitely out of the question, particularly with the balance of the store’s books already in the red.  “And write down all those ideas.  I love your creativity… thank you so much for helping!”

“I’ll get right on it,” she said.

“I’m going to finish frosting the Mississippi Mud Bars now that they’ve cooled off,” I said.  “Can you keep an eye on things down here?”

“Yes… but let’s get a good picture of those.  They’ll be our first Facebook post!”

#

I’d iced and cut the bars (the fudge frosting was divine) and laid them on a pretty blue and white plate for Caroline to snap a few shots—she put a rose in front of the plate, to “style” it, and an open book beside it—and was stealing one for myself when two men walked into the shop, casting a speculative eye around at the sea glass-filled mason jars on the windowsills, the wooden bookshelves lined with colorful books, and the nautical-print cushions on the window seats.  They didn’t look like tourists; instead of shorts and T-shirts, they wore slacks and expensive-looking button-down shirts, and had a decidedly businessy air to them.  I’m not sure why, but something about the way they were looking at the store’s interior made my radar go off.

There were a couple of other browsers in the store.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“We’re just browsing,” said the younger man.  With their long noses and brown hair, the two men looked like they were stamped from the same mold, only with different hairlines.  The older of the two stood back, hands in his pockets, as the younger man poked around.

“The business section is in the back,” I said, guessing that that was more up their alley than the books we’d recently shelved on botany.

“Thanks,” the younger of the two said shortly.  “We’re actually looking for a notebook; do you carry them?”

“Not yet,” my daughter piped up, glancing at me.  “But we should have some shortly; we’re expanding our offerings.”

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t help us today,” the man said.  “Interesting little bookstore you have here.  Kind of off the beaten path, isn’t it?”

“Booklovers will go the extra mile,” Caroline said.  Again, what was up with her today? Not that I was complaining.

“Can I interest you in a particular genre?” I asked.

“No, no,” they said.  “We just needed some paper.  Thought we’d stop by and check the place out.  Mind if we browse?”

“Of course not,” I said.  “Let me know if you need any help.”

He nodded, and the two of them retreated to the back room.  I strolled after them on the pretense of checking on a book, curious to see what they were talking about.

“I think we should stick to the current format,” the older man said as I pulled a paperback off the shelf and turned it over.  “If it ain’t broke, why fix it?”

“It’s worth considering diversification,” the younger one replied in a low voice.  “And considering the location, there’s no real competition. It’ll certainly be more modern; that’ll be a draw.”

“I don’t know about that,” the older man said.  “This isn’t Boston… people are looking for a seaside experience.  Take a look at the folks walking around… hip isn’t what they’re looking for.”

“That’s our brand,” the younger one said. “We can stay true to the brand and make a nod to the area. And merch will help increase the profitability.”

“It’s worth considering,” the other man said.  “They’re cutting us a good deal, I’ll say that.”

“Do you think the customer base will transfer? How much local pride is there?”

“Most of them aren’t local.  And we’ll be recognizable.”

As he spoke, the door opened, and Denise walked in with two willow baskets,  followed by Bethany, who was carrying a box that was likely the day’s shipment of books.   Denise was still wearing her Sea Beans T-shirt.

“Hi, guys!” I greeted them.  “New books?” I asked Bethany.

“Yup.  I’ll get them into inventory and shelve them,” she answered briskly.

“Thanks,” I said with a smile.  What would I do without Bethany?

Denise shifted the baskets from one arm to the other.  “You ready?” she asked as I shelved a copy of Bernd Heinrich’s A Year in the Maine Woods in the Local Interest section.  As she spoke, she spotted the men in the back of the store, and her face turned stony.  “What are they doing here?” she asked.

“Browsing,” I told Denise.  “They were looking for paper.”

In the meantime, the men were talking in the back.  “I think it should be profitable, since we’re the only game in town,” one of the men said.

“It’s a local coffee shop,” my friend said loudly, and I looked at her, puzzled.  “It should stay that way.  It’s not right.”

The younger man looked at her, a bemused smile on his pale face.  “Ah.  You must be the manager who was hoping to take the reins.  There might be a job for you, if you play your cards right.  We could use someone with local connections.”

“I wouldn’t work for you if you were the only employer in town,” she spat.  “People like you shouldn’t be allowed to come in and take over small towns.  Sea Beans shouldn’t be a chain,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re trying to take it away from me.”

“The contract will be signed tonight,” he said, smirking.  “Sea Beans will soon be the newest location of Epoch Coffee.  Right, Dad?” he added, looking up to the older man beside him.

“That’s the plan,” the young man’s father said, puffing his chest out.  He reminded me of an overweight peacock, somehow, only wearing wingtips instead of actual wings.  He brushed a bit of lint off his sleeve, as if it somehow represented my friend.  “Charles Carsten.  And this is my son, Chad.  I’m sorry to hear you’re disappointed, but we’re not taking anything away from you.  We’re simply businessmen doing business.”

“You’re a thief,” she said.  “And I hope you get what’s coming to you.”  She turned to me.  “I’ll be in the car.”

“Let me just get my stuff,” I said as she stormed out the door.  Caroline and the other shoppers were all goggling at the man who had just declared he was buying Sea Beans.  I glanced over at Bethany and Caroline.  “You two have it under control?”

“Affirmative,” Bethany said brightly, and Caroline nodded.

“Let me know if you have any trouble,” I said, darting a glance at the men in the back room.

“We’ve got it under control,” Bethany assured me, and then, in a quieter voice, said, “I can’t believe Sea Beans is going away.”

“Nothing’s been signed yet,” I said, trying to sound optimistic.  “This is the first I’ve heard of it.  I’ll talk to Denise and find out what’s going on.”

“Let us know,” my assistant said.  “I’ll do what I can to save the store, if it’s possible.”  Ever since Bethany had discovered she might be in line to inherit a fortune (she’d discovered she was related to one of the island’s old money families), she’d seemed more confident and optimistic.  She’d been attending school part-time and working for me part-time to save money; if the funds came through, she’d be able to focus more on her studies—and her fledgling writing career.

She had hired an attorney my friend/maybe-more-than-friend Nicholas had recommended, and although it was early days, she was hoping she’d have enough to pay for her college education and maybe pay off her parents’ house.  As much as I wanted her to get an education, I’d be sad to lose her.  Caroline was a little less motivated on the college front; I was hoping that spending time with my motivated assistant would encourage her to go back and finish her degree.  I looked at the two young women tenderly; I knew both would find their way, but I hoped it would be as smooth as possible for them.  Being a young woman could be tough.  I knew that from experience.

But right now, I wasn’t worried about Bethany or even Caroline.  I was worried about Denise.  I grabbed my purse and a jacket and headed for the door, looking back over my shoulder at the two young women behind the desk and hoping they’d be okay.  Which was ridiculous, really, but I felt motherly toward both of them, even though only one was my biological daughter.

Denise was sitting in her Jeep with the engine on.  I could practically see the steam rising from her head as I hobbled over and open the door.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“I turned my ankle this morning.”  I raised a leg to show her the Ace bandage. “It’s just a mild sprain.”

“What did you do?”

“Slipped on a rock,” I said.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she asked.

“I’m not going to miss out on blueberry picking because of a sore ankle,” I said.  “It’s only a little strain.  Besides, we need to catch up.”

“Just be careful, okay?” she said.  “I’ll drive.  You put your foot up on the dash or something.”

I levered myself into the passenger seat as Denise tucked the baskets behind the seat.

“Tell me more about what just happened,” I said as she climbed in beside me.  “Who are those people who say they’re buying Sea Beans?”

“Out-of-towners,” she said, with more than a hint of bitterness.

“I thought Margaret was selling it to you?”

“She was.  Until Chad Carsten talked her selling him the store so he can rebrand it as an Epoch franchise,” she said.

“Doesn’t Epoch do the organic paleo stuff down in Portland?”

“And everywhere else.”

“Have you talked to Margaret about it?”

“I did, but she told me that unless I could match their offer, she wouldn’t be able to accept it,” she said, turning the key and hitting the gas hard.  She put it into first gear and turned out of the parking place with a jerk that made me think that maybe I should have done the driving after all.

“Didn’t she promise to sell it to you?” I asked, pulling my hair up into a bun to keep it from whipping around my face as she put the Jeep in second gear and gunned it.  I quickly grabbed onto the top of the door to keep myself from being rocketed right out of the Jeep.  “She said she’d sell it to you when the time came.”

“That was before Chad came and offered her twice what I can pay.”

Find out what happens next! Pre-order your copy of The Lies that Bind now!

(Missed Chapter One? You can read it here!)