Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
A few hours later, the sound of sandals slapping on the floor startles me awake.
“Amelia Mae!” Fiona’s striding toward the reading nook, where her daughter’s set up shop. Not that she had a choice—Miguel brought her a sandwich and a candy bar and has been watching her like a hawk from the register. Except he’s not there now. Where did he disappear to?
“Over here,” says Amelia Mae, waving her fingers in the air at her mother. “In Michigan, where I told you we should come visit? And whaddaya know, I already love it!”
Fiona throws her arms around her daughter. When she’s finally done squeezing the stuffing out of her, her expression says she can’t decide whether she’s proud or angry. “It’s a good thing I could get on the train right away.”
“You didn’t drive?”
Fiona shakes her head.
“Drat. I was hoping you’d work on your highway paranoia.”
“I do not have a paranoia—I just happen to have firsthand experience with the dangers of driving at high speeds. Regardless, I was on the verge of panicking, thinking of you making that trip all by yourself. Please don’t scare me like that, love. You know you’re all I have.”
I side-eye Fiona; she sounds exactly like Miguel right now.
“Technically, I had company,” Amelia Mae tells her. “I counted fifteen other people in my train car.”
Fiona looks like she might pass out.
“Don’t worry, I sat next to a very nice old woman, and we talked about books. So…you’re not mad?”
“I’m not happy, but no—I’m not mad. Which doesn’t mean you should ever pull something like that again. And drama camp is not cheap. You should’ve told me you didn’t want to do it.”
“I did! Seven times! You didn’t listen.” Amelia Mae widens her dark eyes. “So, did you talk to Miguel yet?”
“Fortunately, I had the good sense to answer his call even though I was in the middle of canceling everything on Uncle Jon’s calendar. Though honestly, I did have a hunch that there was a disturbance in the Force. How did you even find this place?”
“I asked someone at the train station where it was, then walked. Less than a mile, door-to-door. At least that’s what the guy told me. How’d you get here?”
Fiona reaches for the bookshelf to steady herself. “A taxi. Sweetheart, someone could have snatched you!”
“I know I said I was worried about Uncle Jon getting kidnapped—but I did some research, and it turns out that random kidnappings are a statistical anomaly. Not that you need another worst-case scenario to haunt your dreams, but I’m more likely to choke to death on a fish bone than be abducted.
Besides, I was walking through town, not down some eerie dirt road—though I bet we could find one around here.
” Amelia Mae crosses her arms over her chest. “The main thing is that I promised Harry that I’d see him again, and whether you like it or not, I’m a girl of my word. ”
I give Fiona my biggest puppy dog eyes, and she does seem to soften. “The dog. Of course. You are sort of compelling, aren’t you?” she says to me.
Am I? Do I still have it? She didn’t even say anything about my eyebrows!
“Still,” says Fiona, “this dog—”
“Harry,” Amelia Mae interjects. “Best friend to Miguel, your new friend, who you’ve been miserable without. Like I told Harry, you haven’t touched your notebooks since he left.”
Fiona adjusts her glasses. “Darling, I appreciate your thinking about me, and I find it sweet that you somehow believe your old mom’s obsessiveness is a good thing. But the notebooks aren’t important, and I’ve had my hands full with—well, your uncle’s decision.”
“You’re not old.”
“Thank you, love, though I noticed you didn’t refute my obsessiveness. Now, why wouldn’t you tell me you were going to come here?”
She sighs heavily. “I did. And again, you didn’t listen. ‘Too far.’ ‘Not right now.’ ‘Maybe later,’ ” she recites, making puppets out of her hands.
“Well, I am your mother. Last I checked, that makes me the de facto decision-maker in these scenarios.”
“Um. Hi,” says Miguel, who’s just loped over from the bathroom. “Thanks for—well, I guess you had to come.”
“Hello there,” says Fiona in her singsong voice. Though her sweat smells nervous, too, she’s a cool breeze compared to him. “And yes, yes, I did. But now that I’m here, I’m glad. I like your bookstore quite a bit. Jon really blew it not coming to his event.”
Amelia Mae steps in front of Miguel and addresses Fiona. “I told you this place would be amazing. Wait until you see Stabby Peeps!”
Miguel raises an eyebrow at Riley across the room, who holds her hands up and tries to suppress her smile.
“I could live there. Though you’ll probably like the back of the store better,” she says, referring to the Romance section, which Riley hasn’t moved yet.
“Are you going to run off again?” Fiona asks her.
“How many times do I have to remind everyone that it’s perfectly legal for me to be on my own?”
Fiona looks over the top of her glasses at her daughter.
“The legality of your great escape is debatable, dear heart, and I suspect Child Protective Services might have something to say about you checking out of camp without my permission, to say nothing of your train voyage. How did you pull that off, exactly?”
“I may or may not have forged a letter from you saying I had therapy. Aren’t you always saying reading is therapeutic?”
“Good-ness, Amelia Mae,” says Fiona, making that angry-proud face again. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Buy me this?” she says, holding up her novel.
Miguel sighs. “The book’s on me.”
I wonder why the man would give away a book when the bookstore needs every dollar it can get.
Then it finally sinks in: He really likes them. Or at least he really likes Fiona, and since she and Amelia Mae are a bonded pair, that’s enough for me.
“That’s generous of you, but I’m happy to pay for it,” says Fiona.
“Mom, never turn down a genuine offer. Especially if it’s a free book. And this one’s very important—so thank you, Miguel.”
“Don’t mention it. But out of curiosity, why’s it so important?” he asks.
“Well, I’m worried about Uncle Jon, and I have a strong suspicion that The Dark Half is going to help me figure out how to help him.”
“Didn’t you just tell me kidnappings are a statistical anomaly?” Fiona says, cocking her head at her daughter.
“I haven’t been worried about him being kidnapped since I talked to him in the closet,” she says slowly, like she’s explaining this to a child.
“But I heard the two of you arguing the other night, and I know he’s being weird.
What if there’s a voice in his head, telling him not to write anymore?
What if it’s his secret twin, buried in his brain?
” she says, covering her face with her hands as she pretends to be horrified.
“Love, that’s a whole lot of storytelling right there.”
Miguel clears his throat. “Um. Fiona? Is there a chance that your brother’s actually struggling? After all, he doesn’t believe in writer’s block. He’s said that repeatedly in interviews—that you can solve for it with desire and discipline.”
Fiona frowns, searching for the right words.
After a moment, she says, “No, it’s nothing like that.
Jon’s just doing the living he didn’t get a chance to when he suddenly skyrocketed to success.
He claims he’s had enough of being in the public eye.
And I quote: ‘The frickin’ internet ruined everything. ’ ”
“Okay, Flintstone,” says Amelia Mae. She drops her hand from her face and frowns at her mother. “So…you like the bookstore?”
“Of course,” she says, glancing around. “It’s practically perfect in every way.”
“Thank you,” murmurs Miguel.
“I knew you would,” says Amelia Mae. “I had a feeling even before I came here. But now that we know for sure how great it is, we have to do something to help them out.”
“You’re sure you won’t take the check?” Fiona asks Miguel.
He shakes his head firmly. “I really can’t accept something for nothing, nor your money. I appreciate that you like the store—it means a lot to me. But you didn’t get us into this problem, and it’s not on you to get us out of it.”
“I know that, but I like you, and my daughter likes your dog.”
He thanks her with a shy smile.
She smiles back. “Actually…” She puts a finger under her daughter’s chin.
“You’ve raised an interesting point. We should help Uncle Jon make things right—and I might have a few ideas.
I want to strike while my mental iron’s hot, and there’s no way I can work on the train.
” She turns to Miguel. “Would it be a terrible bother if we stuck around a little while longer?”
“It’s no bother at all,” says Miguel, whose flushed cheeks tell me he means it.
“Terrific. Then let’s see if there’s a hotel around here where we could spend a night or two.”
Amelia Mae turns to me. “Hang on to your harness, Harry! I have a feeling we’re in for some fun.”