The Noel Letters (The Noel Collection #4) - Richard Paul Evans Page 0,23
your father’s right-hand woman. She’s done a yeoman’s job of keeping things running after your father fell ill.” Her expression turned more intense. “So, if I may ask, what are your plans for your bookstore?”
My bookstore. It still sounded peculiar to me. “I don’t know yet. I’ve got a lot of things to figure out.”
“I’m sure you do. Working here will be good for you. It will help you find some clarity.” She lifted the book she was holding: The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. “I’d like to purchase this book.”
“Very good.” I walked around the counter to the register. Then I smiled. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how to ring you up.”
“That’s okay. You can just write it down and Wendy will ring me up later. That’s what I used to do when your father was busy with other customers. You have my card on file.”
“Let me find something to write on.”
“There’s a notepad in the drawer to the left of the register,” she said. “There should be a mechanical pencil in there too. Your father always used pencils.” She smiled. “It was a philosophical statement with him. He said it was a reminder that everyone makes mistakes.”
I opened the drawer. As she said, there was a pad of paper with the store’s name printed at the top. I brought it out.
“It seems like everyone knows more about the store than I do. Even the customers.”
“You’ll catch up,” she said.
I wrote down the name of her book along with its ISBN. “Your name is Grace…”
“Kingsbury. Like the Christian author. But you can just write down ‘Grace.’ I’ve been coming here for two decades. I’d be surprised if Wendy doesn’t have my credit card memorized by now.”
“Thank you… for your patronage.”
She grinned. “Now you sound like your father. I’ll see you next week.”
She walked out of the store, the little bell ringing her departure. After she left, I helped another customer find two books—American Sniper and The Five Love Languages. I had to get Wendy to check him out.
“That was an interesting combination of books,” I said after the man left.
Wendy grinned. “Maybe he’s married and it’s plan A and plan B.”
I laughed. Then I looked at her and asked, “Are you married?”
“Nope.”
“Dating?”
“Nope.” From the curtness of her response I could tell she didn’t want to talk about it.
“As long as we’re here,” she said, “I might as well teach you how to use this thing. It’s not hard.”
I found the paper with Grace’s name. “We can practice on this one,” I said. “It’s from Grace. She said you had her information.”
“Yes we do. She’s purchased a book here every week since even before I started.”
“That’s a lot of books.”
“Probably a thousand.”
“Why doesn’t she just go to the library?”
“So we can survive,” she said. “She can afford it. You know that bag she carries?”
“The Louis Vuitton?”
She nodded. “It cost more than three thousand dollars. If you have that much money for a book bag, you have money for books.” She stepped in front of the register. “So, let me show you how this works.” As she was showing me she asked, “How long were you planning on staying?”
“At least until Christmas.”
She smiled. “I meant today.”
“Oh. I wasn’t sure. How late are we open?”
“Until ten during the holidays. As your father used to say, It’s harvest time.”
“How late do you stay?”
“I usually work eight thirty to five thirty. I come in a little early to get the store open and stay a little late to hand off the baton.” She suddenly smiled. “Sometimes I’d work late just to hang out with your father. We got into the most interesting conversations.”
“About what?”
“Have you ever talked to your father about UFOs?”
“No.”
“That’s a conversation you won’t soon forget.”
“I don’t think we’ll be having that conversation,” I said. “Or any other.”
Her smile fell. “No, you won’t.” She changed the subject. “We have two part-time workers who come in at five. Cammy and Cyndee. They’re university students. After Thanksgiving we’ll bring on two more part-time employees to work evenings. It gets pretty busy.”
“I’m surprised at how much business you do.”
“We do,” she said. “We do a brisk business.”
She was about to leave when I said, “Can I ask you something?”
She looked back. “Yes?”
“What was the relationship between Grace and my father?”
Wendy didn’t answer immediately. I sensed there was a history between the two women. “They were friends,” she finally said. “Why do you ask?”