The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,79
I miss you. I’ve missed you so much.”
Mary’s chest and throat tightened.
“I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now,” Tammy rushed on. “What my parents did to you was...unthinkable, unforgiveable. I can completely understand why you might not want to hear from me. But no one else could ever even begin to understand what my childhood was like. And I loved Autumn so much. She’s my half sister, the only flesh and blood I’ve got, really, and yet I haven’t seen her since she was three. I would be so grateful if we could change that—if I could see you both again. I feel as though you’re my only real family.”
Laurie came out from the back and froze the moment she saw Mary. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The three patrons they had in the store looked up, causing Mary to force a smile. “Nothing. Everything’s fine. It’s just... I have someone on the phone who wants an old, collectible book and...and we don’t carry that type of thing.”
“Did you tell him about that company online? They might have it. What’s the title of the book he’s looking for?”
“I told him to try Abe’s,” she said, purposefully using the wrong pronoun since Laurie had already assumed it was a man. “I’ll do some checking on this end, too,” she said into the phone, “and get back to you if...if anything changes.”
“I’m sorry if I called at a bad time,” Tammy said. “I didn’t want to frighten or upset you—”
“I’ll see what I can find,” Mary interrupted and hung up.
Laurie was watching as Heather Mannefort brought a stack of romance novels to the counter.
“Did you find everything you need?” Mary asked, trying to keep her voice even.
“I hope so,” Heather replied. “Even if I didn’t, I’d better play it safe and stop here. My husband bought me one of those e-readers so that he won’t have to build any more bookshelves—he says we’re swimming in books as it is—but I love the feel and smell of a real book, don’t you? I can’t seem to make the switch.”
“I’ve always been partial to print books.” Mary’s smile was probably a bit too bright as she rang up Heather’s purchases, proof that she was trying hard to compensate for something. Laurie knew her so well; no doubt she could tell. But right after Heather checked out, two other customers approached the register, and rather than continue waiting, Laurie went back to work, which gave Mary a chance to recover before having to explain what was going on.
As soon as they were alone, it didn’t take Laurie long to reappear at the register. “That was the private investigator, wasn’t it?” she said.
Mary shook her head.
“Who, then?”
“It was Tammy.”
Laurie’s jaw dropped. “And you hung up on her?”
Mary burst into tears. She hadn’t even felt them coming, had thought she’d managed to subdue the emotions that’d slammed into her the moment she realized she had Tammy on the line. But the memory of Tammy’s words, the supplication in her voice, left Mary shaken and upset. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she admitted.
Laurie brought her in for a hug. “Are you going to be okay?”
Mary nodded as she pulled away. “I want to call her back.” She had no idea where it might lead. But she couldn’t reject her.
Tammy was as innocent in what had happened as she was.
18
Taylor finally found Sierra in her father’s garage, working on the motorcycle, which she had up on a stand. It was as hot and humid as Sable Beach ever got, and yet she was wearing a pair of tattered Converse sneakers, distressed jeans with holes in both knees and a loose-fitting Whitey’s Garage T-shirt, all of which were smeared with motor oil. “What are you doing?”
Sierra grabbed a rag to wipe her hands, which were covered with grease. There was even a smudge on her cheek. “Told my dad I’d change the oil in the bike today.”
“You know how to do that?”
She shrugged. “It’s not hard. I’ve been doing it since I was twelve.”
“I rang the bell at the house twice.”
She removed the funnel, careful not to let any oil drip across the floor as she laid it on a piece of cardboard. “Didn’t hear it.”
“What about your phone? I’ve been trying to call you, too. And I sent a text.”
She wiped the sweat rolling down from her temple. “Sorry. Don’t have my phone out here.”