Chapter 6
Scarlet woke up in bed to the soft and distant roar of the ocean and the alarm going off on her phone. She sat up and rubbed her aching head. It was a caffeine hangover from the extra shot she’d had in her coffee the night before.
Togetherness was a strange concept to attach to her aunt, who had never married. Scarlet remembered her mother speaking of it much more often than her aunt. And while they were sisters, they couldn’t have been more different.
Scarlet’s mother was a proud homemaker who believed in structure and following the rules until she took on two jobs to support them. When Ben came along, he’d pushed for her to quit and do what made her happiest. Aunt Ann never said the “L” word that Scarlet could remember.
Concerned about how things were going at the office, Scarlet texted Thea and got a prompt response.
Thea: Everything is fine. The selections are being printed now, and orders are being shipped to stores as they’re ready. Ms. Wesley gave me your duties. I barely keep up, but she says the only thing I’ve messed up so far is her coffee.
Scarlet: Three creamer cups and two sugar packets. Let me know if you have any questions. Thanks for covering.
Thea: Got it. Thanks.
Myrtle had breakfast spread on the table when Scarlet descended the stairs. Two families with kids chatted at the big table while a young couple cuddled on the sofa by the gas fireplace.
Scarlet snatched up two pieces of toast and shrugged herself into her raincoat.
“Are you sure that’s all you want to eat?” Myrtle asked.
Scarlet stopped and looked over at her, wondering why that mattered.
“Just don’t want you to end up like your aunt. Do you need omeprazole or famotidine? I’ve got plenty of options in the—”
“I’m fine, Myrtle,” Scarlet gently said, though her stomach was on fire after last night’s coffee crawl. She’d picked up a cup at every stop on her way to the B and B. And her mother had dealt with heartburn during the last few years of her life.
Scarlet zipped up her coat and walked to the door. “But I will take your concern into consideration.”
“Pretty windy today,” Myrtle called after her. “Hold onto your hood!”
Scarlet left for her meeting with Mr. Shorboro. Her wipers swished at full speed as she drove into town to the bookshop.
A black SUV was parked out front when she arrived.
“Morning, Miss Brevon.” Mr. Shorboro was a slender man in his fifties who sported a high-and-tight haircut. The confident way he carried himself suggested he’d handled estates a time or two. “Thank you for meeting with me. I know this is inconvenient timing for you. Your aunt told me about the storm and the damage to your shop.”
Scarlet huddled under the awning, feeling confused. “I never really spoke with her after it happened. We’ve been in contingency mode for most of this year.”
His gray-blue eyes dissected her. “Ann kept tabs on everyone. Your aunt had a keen sense of what was happening to the people around her. No one knows how she kept it all straight, but she did. And she was always there for people when they needed her.”
His words were like salt in a wound and made Scarlet wince in the privacy of her mind.
Mr. Shorboro switched on the lights, illuminating shelves stuffed to the brim with books on towers that reached the ceiling. “It’s a lot to go through. So after we do a bit of paperwork, I’m going to leave you to it.”
“Sure, thanks.” Scarlet wandered the front displays in the windows, a handful of vases sporting dried flowers and other miscellaneous decor to prop up the display books.
They sat at the checkout counter and sorted through the legal aspects of taking over the shop.
“I’ve heard you want to sell the place. Is that true?” he asked.
“Word gets around fast,” Scarlet remarked as she signed the last document.
“Small-town gossip is like wildfire.” Mr. Shorboro packed up and set the key on the counter. “If you’re wondering what happened to the rest of her things, this was it. This was everything she had. She lived in the small residence above. The entrance is in the back, above the workshop and studio area.”
Scarlet looked down the aisle toward the door at the back. There were signs for reading lessons, book clubs, story time, and a whole schedule of arts, crafts, and fitness workshops. Her peace-loving, free-spirited aunt looked like she ran more of an all-in-one community center than a simple bookshop. “Is there someone in town who might be able to help me sort through everything? Did my aunt have an assistant?”
Mr. Shorboro pulled his hood over his head and tucked his briefcase under an arm. “Everyone and no one. She had no assistant and just ran everything herself. But everyone from town came here for something. My wife loved her yoga classes. I came to offer estate planning and basic financial management classes.”
“Thank you for your time, sir.”
He nodded, then stopped when he was halfway out the door. “There isn’t anyone who will buy this place, Scarlet.”
“Why not?”
“Most businesses don’t last long in a small town like this. So unless you can find someone to run this place who already owns a franchise, even at half of what it used to be, it won’t provide enough value to the community. We have no library in this town or youth activities club. Ann’s shop was it.
“I suggest you find someone to run it or lease it. But you’ll have people in and out of here every few years, and many won’t be able to pay the lease on a shop this big. If you have financial questions, you have my number.”
Scarlet slumped against the counter as he drove off, wondering what on earth she could do with the shop. She had a job to return to. She couldn’t stay there and manage a property.
Oh, what have I got myself into now? I will have to pay property taxes on this, plus all the local and county fees, to keep this place open. It was an additional burden she wasn’t ready or prepared for.