Chapter 21
“Do you ever wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it!”
—Daisy Buchanan in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby
After arranging the lemon bars, coffee mugs, sugar, and cream on a table in the reading nook for the impromptu book club, I phoned Zach and left a message, telling him what I’d learned about Patrick.
Yes, he would chastise me for intervening, but I hadn’t lured Ott to the shop.
I hadn’t asked him to verify Patrick’s alibi.
I was purely a helpful conduit for the police, right?
At four p.m., when the book club concluded, Shayna Luckenbill joined Tegan and me at the sales counter.
She was quite a dramatic woman, using her hands and alto voice to great effect.
Her silk scarf dress with its playful balloon motif was colorful and a testament to her love of art.
For at least two minutes, she gushed about how wonderful the bookshop was.
She questioned why she’d never popped in before—popped being her word.
“Thank you so much for letting us hold the meeting here,” she said. “You are a lifesaver.”
“Say, Shayna,” Tegan said, offering me a sly wink, “we often host book clubs on Monday nights. Maybe you’d like to attend.”
“That would be lovely.”
“You would’ve enjoyed last Monday’s event,” Tegan lied, seeing as we hadn’t had one. “We read and discussed Liane Moriarty’s Apples Never Fall. Would you have been able to make it?”
“Sadly, no. I was at the library, hosting an aspiring new artists exhibition.”
“Was your husband with you?” Tegan asked. “I heard he’s so proud of what you do for the arts community.”
Shayna blushed. “How kind of you to say. No, Iggie has a standing poker game. Heaven forbid I ask him to skip that. Men!” She cackled.
“Allie, I have a friend who works at Legal Eagles who raves about Dream Cuisine’s food.
I should have you cater a future exhibition.
Call me.” She held up her cell phone and rattled off her number. “This way I’ll have your contact.”
I did as requested.
She pressed the cell phone to her chest. “Superb. Absolutely superb. By the way, my friend Ulla is sold on your shop, and she’ll be telling everyone about your beautiful displays.”
“Ulla Karlsson is h-here?” I stammered. Of course she was. She was Shayna’s best friend. A duplicitous best friend, I mused.
“She’s over there. The one in the tent dress.” Shayna pointed toward the reading nook area.
The woman—Ulla—was wearing a shapeless dress. Her ash-white hair was secured in a claw-style clip, and she hadn’t donned a stitch of makeup. Was that how she snowed her friend into believing she was as innocent as a lamb and not a husband stealer?
“She said she wants to start investing in books so she can expand her library. Maybe you ladies could steer her to the next best read.”
“I’ll say hello,” I offered and strolled over to Ulla before she could depart with the other women, who were filing out. “Hi, Ulla. I’m Allie. Nice to meet you. I enjoyed you in Young Frankenstein.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “It was a fun show to do.”
“Shayna said you enjoyed the bookshop.”
“Not merely enjoyed. I love it here. The layout is so friendly. The nook area is warm and inviting. Did I hear right? You have first editions for sale?”
“Indeed. Most have been written by prominent North Carolinians.” Using Tegan’s tactic, I added, “We often have book clubs on Monday nights. You should join us.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t on Mondays. I have a standing appointment.”
“With?”
She glanced at Shayna, who had begun talking to Tegan, and returned her gaze to me. “With my trainer.”
“Gee, I had no idea Ignatius Luckenbill was a trainer.”
Her face drained of color. “He … no … he’s not—”
“Weren’t you with him last Monday?”
“He … we … How do you know …?”
“Someone saw you.”
“It’s o-over.” Her voice cracked. “We—” She hiccupped a sob. “We ended it that night. I swear. We both love Shayna too much. If she discovered we were … we’d never forgive ourselves. We—”
“Did he leave before eleven thirty?”
“Why?”
“It matters.”
“He was with me until midnight.”
That confirmed what Evelyn had said.
“Did he go out alone at any time before then? Maybe he used the back door?”
“No.” She clutched my hands. Hers were trembling. “Please don’t tell Shayna. It was a mistake.”
She looked so mortified, I agreed to keep the secret. She’d cleared Iggie. Verifying his whereabouts had been my solitary goal.
“Tegan!” Chloe whizzed into the shop, the skirt of her dress wafting up. She skidded to a stop by the sales counter, and the skirt settled down and clung to her thighs like saran wrap. “I’m not going to be an actress.”
Tegan rounded the counter and grasped Chloe’s shoulders. “Breathe.”
Chloe inhaled sharply. She wheezed like a deflated balloon.
“Tell us why not.” Tegan released her.
“I learned rehearsals might go well into the wee hours of the morning. With regularity. I can’t handle such a commitment. Why, last night, callbacks ran until midnight.” She repeated the word. “Midnight! That’s why I overslept today.” She clapped a hand to her chest. “I never oversleep.”
“Poor thing,” Ulla mumbled to me. “She needs a pep talk.” She strode to Chloe. “Sweetheart, I saw you at your first callback. Don’t quit. You’re too good.”
I joined them and petted Chloe’s shoulder.
She shimmied from my touch, her eyes misting with gratitude. “Thank you, everyone, for your support, but my mind is made up. I don’t want to split my time between the shop and the theater. Besides, rehearsals would cut into my reading time. I love to read. I live for reading!”
Shayna sidled to Ulla and linked arms with her. “We all do. Books are magical. Books bring friends together. It’s the reason we started our book club, right?”
“Absolutely,” Ulla chimed. “Literary friends forever.” She winked at Chloe and said, “Good luck.” Then she guided Shayna toward the door. At the threshhold, she peeked over her shoulder.
I gave her a thumbs-up. I wouldn’t reveal her secret. I believed she really was ending things with Iggie. As for him, however, he would step out on Shayna again, but his deceitfulness wasn’t my business. Unless Shayna and I became friends.
Chloe tilted her head. “Those were new customers.”
Tegan filled her in on the impromptu book club.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help,” Chloe said.
“Allie and I managed.”
Chloe touched her cheeks. “Oh, I must look a mess. I’ll be right back.” She rushed into the stockroom.
At the same time, the door to the shop opened, and Lillian’s grandmother Magda strode in. She pivoted decisively toward the display of blind-date books.
I nudged Tegan. “Go tend to Chloe. I’ll help Magda.” I sauntered to her, and as I drew near, I gasped. “Magda, what happened to your arm?” She was clad in a summery sleeveless dress. Her right arm was blotchy with black and blue bruises. “Did someone attack you?”
“Heavens, no. If they did, I’d hurt them.
I know karate.” She snorted. “No, dear, I’m a klutz.
I was on the porch, changing shoes—one my age shouldn’t wear wedges—and the laces on one snarled, and the shoe refused to come off, and, well, I teetered and fell.
Down the stairs. Onto my shoulder.” She laughed at herself.
“Yes, it hurt, but I hobbled up the stairs to go inside for some ice. That was when I realized I’d locked myself out.
” She knuckled her temple. “I’m brain dead lately, I’m telling you.
But I absolutely had to get inside to fetch my purse before going to tea with my friend, so I crawled through my schnauzer’s doggy door and caught my arm on the edge. ”
I winced, imagining the pain. On the other hand, I couldn’t believe scraping the doggy door would cause so much bruising. “Magda, is it possible you broke your arm or shoulder when you fell?”
She tsked. “I made a poultice to treat it. I’ll be fine. Don’t give it a second thought.” Lillian had told me her grandmother was a naturalist who refused to take medicine.
“But maybe going to a doctor and getting an X-ray—”
“No, sirree. The last time I did such a ridiculous thing, I ended up having a hip replacement. I’ll be fine.
I didn’t come in for sympathy. I want a blind date with a book.
I can’t wait to see what he looks like.” She giggled and motioned to the array of new books I’d wrapped with brown paper.
“And I’ll need one for Lillian. She said it would be great fun to chat about them, and once we finished, we’d swap. ”
How sweet of Lillian to engage her grandmother in this way. I missed my nana and wished she was still here to talk about books and food and life.
“Stop staring at my arm,” Magda said. “Drat it all. I should have worn long sleeves, but it’s so warm out.”
“Fine. No more staring.” I made a mental note to text Lillian and give her a heads-up. “I know you love to read romance. What else appeals to you?”
“I also love a good murder.”
I flinched, thinking of Jason, but quickly recovered and picked up the wrapped book that I knew was Into the Night. I handed it to her.
She read aloud: “‘A gilded cage, a shocking murder. Riveting suspense. A high-profile celebrity.’ This sounds good. I really enjoyed the movies Hitchcock made.”
Next, I handed her Every Summer After.
She recited the words I’d written on the wrapping aloud: “‘A radiant debut. Six summers in the making. A man who can cook.’” She squinted at me. “I believe I’ve read this one, but I’ll bet Lillian hasn’t. She prefers historical novels and nonfiction works about theater.”
Chuckling, she headed toward the sales counter. I followed to ring her up.
“You know,” she said, “ever since I saw you the other day, I can’t get Cora Yeager out of my mind.”
“Why?”
“Well, I told you I knew Jason as a boy, but I didn’t mention Cora was my friend and Cora’s daughter and son-in-law were friends with Jason’s parents.
I didn’t omit it intentionally, mind you.
It merely slipped my mind. I’m forgetting all sorts of things lately.
Age … it’s a real thing.” She chuckled. “Anyway, I was telling Lillian about Cora’s connection to Jason—remember my daughter babysat him?
—and she said I had to tell you, because I happened to know that for years, Cora’s daughter kept in touch with the Gardners via postcards and the occasional Christmas card.
You know how it goes.” She leaned in, as if she was imparting a well-guarded secret.
“I think they were hoping to appease sweet Delilah because she and Jason—”
“Delilah!” I exclaimed. “Was that the name of Cora’s daughter?”
“Yes. I told you.”
“No, you didn’t. Jason was in love with a woman named Delilah. Could it be the same person?”
“Heavens, I don’t know. It’s a rare name, to be sure, but Delilah was six years younger.
A bitty thing. She and Jason horsed around, of course, when the parents would get together for weekend barbecues.
Cora’s daughter had dogs, and Jason loved playing with them.
Delilah followed him everywhere. She revered him like an older brother.
” She snorted. “When he and his family journeyed west, Delilah was inconsolable.” Magda inhaled to refill her lungs before continuing.
“That’s why a few months later, Cora’s daughter and son-in-law moved lock, stock, and barrel to New York. ”
“Not to spite her mother?”
“Well, I’m sure it was part of the equation.”
Wow! I couldn’t believe it. Delilah and Jason had an actual historical connection?
Having known her as a child might explain why he’d been so adamant about owning the Yeager properties.
If there had been bad blood between Cora Yeager and her daughter, and if Delilah had grown up hearing about their rift, and in the process realized her grandmother was the reason she no longer saw Jason, she might have delighted in seeing the properties destroyed and converted into a mall.
If he built it … she might come.