2. Paws and a Bookmark
Paws and a Bookmark
The bell over the front door tinkled. Simeon set down the stack of best-sellers and hurried to the front of the store. "Good morning. How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a book. The preacher at my folks' church said to stay away from it. It's brown, and has a devil-looking guy and a gal on the cover?" An air of determination surrounded the young woman.
He considered, waiting for the inner nudge, then nodded once. "This way, please." She followed him to the romantasy section, and he pulled two paperbacks. "This one is the first in the pair. The one the preacher described might be this one, but it is the second volume in the story."
The black-clad young lady took the first book, read the back cover, and nodded. "These sound perfect. I'll take both of them." He led the way back to the front counter. As he rang them, she said, "I don't need a bag." A small cloth sack emerged from her metal-studded handbag.
"Thank you, ma'am. Twenty-eight seventy-six, including taxes." He disapproved of the new state sales tax increase.
A twenty and a ten appeared on the counter.
"Thank you. One twenty-four is your change.
" He counted it out. She dropped the twenty-four cents into the kids-book jar.
He tucked two bookmarks and the receipt into the front cover of the second volume in the duology.
"I hope you enjoy those, ma'am. I learned about them when the drummer for Darker than Midnight mentioned them on her blog. "
"Ooh! I missed that. Thank you." Reddish-black lips curved up in a smile. She hurried out clutching the bag.
"Aye yai yai," came a resigned declaration from atop the short bookcase behind the counter.
Simeon nodded as he tidied the tourism pamphlets on the corner by the cash register.
Vladimir stood, stretched both ends, then sat in his basket.
The Russian Blue cat blinked yellow eyes at him. "Preacher not read books, real books?"
"I don't think so. He looks at the covers and decides what they are about." Which explained some of the strange pronouncements from that particular pulpit. "At least the bishop reads a few chapters."
"Da."
Simeon checked Vladimir's water, then returned to shelving best sellers.
He wasn't excited about the new thriller, but it sold well, and was less offensive than the latest Lilith Dawnmother screed.
No, not screed, cri de coeur, that was the term the reviewers used.
He moved the now-empty box to the back, tidying the sale table in the children's section as he passed.
It only took one small, eager customer to create mild chaos.
Three had found the table, and their parents had sighed, then indulged them.
Five children's books had found an appreciative home.
Two cookbooks went back where they belonged.
Simeon frowned at a folio-sized art photography book.
It had come halfway off the little display stand.
He put it back. Why that particular photographer insisted on including nudes—and not artistic nudes—in his books ...
A shame, because otherwise the book was perfect for the younger photography students, or their classroom.
The teacher at Santa Fé Central Junior High had taken one look, shaken his head, and put it back.
Vladimir brushed against his leg, then sauntered along the ornate carpet runner, weaving back and forth in a long series of S turns until he disappeared, slipping between the halves of the heavy curtain in the doorway.
Simeon noted his departure and resumed putting the slender modern poetry books in order once again.
They seemed to attract people who rearranged them.
He'd checked for spells or charms on those shelves, but found nothing.
It was probably a Santa Fé thing, like adobe-centric architectural design requirements, corrupt politicians, and broomstick skirts.
Crunching sounds, then a long pause, and scuffing came from the back room.
Simeon worked his way forward to the local essays and literature books.
He removed two from the table and slipped them back onto the shelves, before putting new ones in their place.
He'd sold all but one copy of Cactus and Corruption: Essays on New Mexico Politics. Time to reorder.
The door chime tinkled, and he started toward the front.
"Hello, Sweets! I'm here for the cookbooks," Mrs. Richmond caroled as she advanced past the counter.
He got out of the dowager's way. She knew what she wanted, and preferred not to be "bothered by customer service types," as she loudly proclaimed at least once a month.
A trio of tourists spilled in after her.
"Good morning! How can I help you?" Simeon smiled.
"Ah, we need something on the local Indians that's not all mystical garbage," the man proclaimed. He stared around. "What do you have?"
Simeon pulled a book off the shelf and offered it to the gentleman.
"This is a basic guide to the tribes currently in New Mexico, focusing on the norther half of the state.
Navajo, the Puebloan tribes, Hopi, they are in this volume.
I also have specific histories of the tribes, and of pre-Columbian peoples. "
The woman took the book and studied the cover, read the back, then flipped to a random page. "This is exactly what we want, Craig. None of that woo about so-called tribal magic," she offered it to her husband.
The young man with them studied the ceiling beams. Once his parents were deep in the book, he began, "Yeah, do you have anything about rocks? The last place I looked had—" He caught himself and glanced at the adults. "Ah, crystal stuff."
"This way, sir. My selection is not as big as at the museum bookstore, or the national monument shops." He led the boy to the science and natural history shelves. "Are you interested in a certain area, or would you like more of an overview?"
"Volcanoes," the sandy-haired boy said, then glanced over his shoulder. More quietly he added, "And prehistoric stuff, like," he mouthed the word "dinosaurs."
"Certainly. This one is about all of the northern part of the state, and has information about the different parks and geology-based attractions.
" He pulled the new paperback off the shelf.
"Here's one about environmental conditions during the time the local volcanoes were active.
" The book on paleo-mammals and other creatures had a plain cover.
The young man smiled, and nodded. "These please." He followed Simeon to the counter as his parents studied more from the Native American shelves. "Can you put them in a bag, please, sir?"
"Certainly. The rock book is from the university in Albuquerque, but is for general readers. No chapters about chemistry and crystal formation, or the economic geology of pumice deposits." Simeon ventured a wink as he smiled.
The boy winked back. "Thanks." He pointed to the total. When Simeon nodded, he paid with cash. Simeon slipped the books into a snug, brown paper bag, along with a bookmark that showed Jemez Caldera.
"These," the boy's father thumped three books onto the counter. Two were church histories, plus the guidebook to the regional tribes. "I'm glad we finally found a place that doesn't push all that magic stuff at us."
"Yes, sir." Simeon totaled the sale. "Have you been to the cathedral?"
"I don't do incense," the woman informed him.
"Ah. Thirty-seven forty-one, please. Cash, card?"
"Card." The man paid as Simeon put the books into a larger brown paper sack. "What'd my son get?"
Simeon bristled a little at the man's tone. Why not ask the boy? "Two geology titles, sir, both very well written and highly recommended by the local colleges."
The woman nodded once. "Good. His teachers warned us about all the fantasy and magic books we might find here. It's safer for young people to stay real, stay away from those dragon things." She gave him a stern look. "Magic doesn't exist."
"Your receipt, sir, and bookmarks with the cathedral and Loreto Chapel on them."
After the family departed, Mrs. Richmond and Vladimir both appeared and made their way to the front. The cat crept along, low and intense as he stalked the tassels on the matron's belt. They bounced where they hung below the lower hem of her flowing skirt.
She tutted, "I heard. I'm surprised anyone still believes that, other than Reverend No-Books." She put three cookbooks on the counter. "Have you tried any of these recipes?" She tapped the top title with one finger.
Desserts. "No, ma'am. Sweets are off my menu for the next little while." He rang the books up. As he did, she hissed. Vladimir echoed the sound and jumped onto the counter. Simeon drew a little magic and held it in reserve.
A porcupine on two legs opened the door, looked left and right, and marched in. "Art photography, regional." His voice grated like nails on a blackboard.
"Halfway back, on the left. I'll be with you in just a moment, sir." The customer hurried past. Before he could say the total, Mrs. Richmond laid four twenties on the counter, then counted out thirty-two cents. "Thank you."
"I've got a bag. Bye." She almost raced out of the shop.
Vladimir hopped from the counter to his nest. "Hide shields," the Familiar hissed, so quiet his mage almost didn't hear.
Simeon nodded and approached the customer. The man's shields had irritating spikes, like a cross between a cholla cactus and poison ivy. "Do you have a specific artist in mind, sir?"
"This." He hefted the art photography book from the table. "And Conway's latest volume." His expression shifted into something almost close to a leer, and magic brushed Simeon's shields.