Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
It was a miracle that Eleanor heard her phone ring, given how loudly she was playing music as she painted the trim for one of the rooms for the bookstore.
The first room she’d done had taught her that she did not like painting trim at all.
It was too fussy, and if you made a mistake, you tended to ruin the beautiful, perfect wall you’d just painted.
Not that she’d learned this from experience or anything.
Now, she made herself get through the dreaded task by playing her pump-up playlist as loudly as she dared, lest she annoy her neighbors.
When she caught sight of the name that flashed across her cell phone’s screen, however, she hurriedly turned off the music and put her brother, Shane, on speakerphone.
“Hey!” she called cheerfully. “Long time no chat!”
“Hi there, big sis,” he said, sounding just as pleased to connect with her. “I know, it’s been too long, and it’s totally my fault. I’ve owed you a call for… way too long now.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she countered, balancing the phone so that she could hear and speak clearly while still painting. A call from Shane was better than the best music to distract her from a dreaded task. “It’s not like you’re busy or anything.”
Shane was a computer programmer who lived in California, where his exciting job kept him hopping. This was, Eleanor knew, a good thing for Shane, whose adventurous spirit meant that he was extremely well-suited to the fast-paced career he’d chosen.
Still, his schedule plus the three-hour time difference between his home in California and hers in Magnolia Shore meant that finding time for phone calls could be tricky.
To Eleanor’s surprise, however, her brother didn’t sound quite so pleased with his hectic lifestyle.
“Yeah, it keeps me going,” he said tiredly.
“You okay?” she asked, her brushstrokes stilling.
When Shane spoke again, he sounded like his regular self.
“Oh, yeah, I’m good,” he said. “I have a client who is… well, he’s a bit of a pill, but I’m getting through it.
Anyway, I didn’t call to talk about my job.
I spend enough time on that as it is. Tell me about you?
How’s your store coming? How’s your fella? ”
“Oh my gosh,” she said on a surprised laugh. “Don’t call him my ‘fella.’ You sound like Mom!”
They had sadly lost their mother several years prior, but talking to her brother reminded Eleanor of some of the fondest memories of her.
“Do you remember when I brought home my first girlfriend in high school and Mom called her ‘a real fine gal?’ I thought I was going to drop dead of embarrassment.”
Their mother had been an old school Midwestern mom, the kind who served hot lunch every day, who went to the local supper club every Wednesday night for bingo with her friends, and who had never left the house without her hair done up in big curls.
“Well, if you’re ever really missing her, just call me. I’ll put on my most Indiana accent and call your latest girlfriend ‘a sweet little muffin.’”
He laughed hard at her imitation of their mother’s accent.
“Okay, okay, stop distracting me!” Shane said. “Tell me about how everything is going!”
“Well, not to brag,” she said. “But it’s pretty much all amazing.”
She told him all about her household projects and all the ways she was improving her construction skills… even if she did exaggerate just the teeniest, tiniest bit.
“Honestly, even the annoying stuff feels not too bad because I know it’s all part of turning my beautiful bookstore from dream to reality,” she gushed. “Like right now, I’m painting the trim, which I hate, but it’s not even that bad! Later, I have to clean the gutters. But it’s all worth it.”
“Okay, well, one, please get that fella—”
“Oh my gosh, Shane!”
“—of yours to help you hold the ladder. And two, I’m kind of jealous.”
One sad comment she could overlook, but two?
“Shane, what’s going on,” she asked, using her best no-nonsense older sister voice. “You sound… I don’t know. Is everything okay?”
Shane blew out a slow breath. “Yes. Before you get worried, yes, everything is fine. I just… well, work used to be this thing that energized me. And recently it feels like the thing that’s sapping my energy. And that’s a tough position when you work the kind of hours that I do.”
“Oh, honey,” she said sympathetically. “Do you have any vacation time saved up? Do you think you could cut back on your hours?”
“Okay, slow down, super sister,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t need you to solve my problems. It’s a slump. It’ll pass. Not everybody is living their dream job like you in your picturesque little down,” he teased.
“But—” she protested.
“It’s me, Shane, your brother,” he reminded her. “Not Jeremy. Sorry, mother hen. Send your energy elsewhere.”
She sighed.
“Fine,” she said. “I will not bother you, even though I should be allowed to, as is my right as an older sister. But fine. Solve your own problems. See if I care.”
Her offhand tone was not at all convincing, and Shane laughed. This made her feel a little better. At least she could lift her brother’s mood if nothing else.
They chatted for a little while longer, but eventually Shane had to attend a meeting and Eleanor had finished painting the trim.
“Call me soon,” she told him. “It’s the only thing that will keep my mother hen powers at bay. Okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Love you, sis. Talk soon.”
While she waited for her coat of paint to dry, Eleanor set up the ladder against the side of her house. Garrett wasn’t present to hold it, no matter Shane’s directives, but he had coached Eleanor through properly locking all the mechanisms that would make climbing the ladder safe.
Eleanor donned a pair of rubber gloves under thick gardening gloves.
She might have been telling the truth when she told Shane that even tasks like cleaning the gutters took on a new shine when put in context with her bookstore project, but that didn’t mean she actually wanted to touch any of the gunk she was going to clean out.
She was just planning her attack for the matted leaves and sticks that had gathered in the gutters when she heard a polite clearing of the throat and then an equally proper, “Excuse me.”
Eleanor looked down to see a woman who was probably in her early thirties but was dressed more like someone in her early sixties.
She had a sleek platinum bob, the kind with sharp edges that looked like it required frequent upkeep.
She wore pristine white slacks, neat little loafers, and a lightweight sweater set in a soft lilac hue.
It was a rather formal outfit for a Friday afternoon, and Eleanor couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit shabby in her shorts and t-shirt, even if that was the correct outfit for her current activity.
“Um, hello,” she said.
The woman smiled at her, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Her smile was more pro forma than it was warm.
“Good afternoon,” the woman said. “I’m Winnie Burnett. I’m the head of the town’s historical society and, in less of an official capacity, I like to keep my hand in the goings-on about town.”
She said this as if its importance should be self-explanatory.
“Oh,” Eleanor said. “Wow. That’s, uh, that sounds very enriching.”
Winnie looked at Eleanor as if Eleanor had missed the point entirely.
“It is,” she said. “I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself, because it seems like you have undertaken quite the project here.”
Eleanor was starting to think she knew what was going on here. In her past life, she’d served on dozens of parent committees, not to mention the groups she had been part of with other lawyers’ wives. Winnie Burnett, Eleanor assumed, was the head of every group she’d ever joined.
Eleanor also knew that the best way to deal with someone like this was to stay in her own lane.
When Jeremy was younger, she’d let herself get all out of sorts when some of the other parents had indicated that they knew better than Eleanor how to do this craft or that activity, but she’d gradually come to recognize that such bossiness, for lack of a more polite term, usually had more to do with the other person than it did with anything Eleanor was up to.
“I am,” she agreed peaceably. “I’m opening a bookstore.”
Winnie’s eyebrows rose. “A bookstore,” she repeated flatly.
“Yep!” Eleanor said brightly. “There isn’t one in town, so I think it will be a great addition!”
“Uh huh,” Winnie said doubtfully. “And that will entail… what, exactly? Construction? Will it disrupt the neighborhood?”
“No, it shouldn’t,” Eleanor said. “Most of what I’m changing is inside the building. And once the business is open, there’s plenty of street parking.”
“Your current work is outside the house,” Winnie pointed out.
“I’m cleaning the gutters,” Eleanor countered.
To punctuate this, she dropped a handful of sodden leaves and sticks.
It didn’t even come close to hitting Winnie, but the woman looked at it with an expression as shocked as if Eleanor had dropped the muck directly on her head.
When Winnie looked back up, Eleanor smiled her sweetest smile.
“I’d be doing that no matter what I was doing with the building.
Gutters do insist on getting gummed up, huh? ”
Winnie did not look at all satisfied with the way this conversation had gone.
“Right,” she said. “Well, just as a bit of neighborly advice, you might want to make sure you have all your permits in place. I go to every town meeting, so I can tell you that these things can become major headaches if you don’t deal with them.”
Eleanor had the suspicion that, despite her somewhat standoffish demeanor, Winnie was actually trying to be helpful. Even so, the younger woman’s words sent a pang of anxiety through Eleanor.
“Permits?” she asked.
“Well,” Winnie said, “if you intend to take a building like this one, which is zoned as a residential building, and use it for business…” She paused, considering.
“You’ll have to petition the town to rezone it for business use, for starters.
Plus, you’ll probably have to do some sort of neighborhood impact assessment.
Sometimes there is a community petition aspect, sometimes not.
But it really is very important that you make sure to hit the deadlines for each of these steps, since there can be fines if you miss even the smallest step.
I can get you a copy of the regulations, if you want. ”
“Shoot,” Eleanor said.
Winnie had been looking a little too pleased for Eleanor’s taste as she listed the different forms of paperwork, but when Eleanor let out her little expression of dismay, the woman’s face did drop.
This reasserted Eleanor’s conviction that the woman might enjoy taking control, but she didn’t do so with malice.
She did seem to really be trying to help.
“It can be tough,” she said sympathetically. “But as long as you follow all the town rules to the letter, you’ll be fine.” She glanced down at the elegant watch on her wrists. “Oh dear. I have to get going to a meeting. Good luck!”
She walked smartly toward the street, then bundled herself into a neat little sedan. This left Eleanor behind wondering if she knew exactly what she’d gotten herself into with this dream store of hers…