Page 40 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
“We’re open nine to six every day.”
Fritz said, “You should do the Book Concierge!”
Keelia shot him a look. “Okay, thanks. But we don’t push strangers into major purchases over coffee, okay, friend?”
They held up their hands. “I’m just saying. If it’s good enough for Oprah…”
“Don’t mind them,” Keelia said with a smile. “They’re my best marketer, but they get a little carried away.”
“Wait, that’s you?” That was why Keelia had been so familiar to her. Not just from the few seconds they’d talked in the bookstore doorway, but from the bookseller documentary she’d watched a few months ago. The Book Concierge was a service that, for an eye-watering price, the bookshop (which had looked adorable with its dark wooden shelves and high ceilings) would close the entire store just for you, and the proprietor (Keelia) would spend hours filling bags with books that suited your reading tastes precisely. Oprah Winfrey, Stephen King, and Jennifer Garner had used the service, and had waxed rhapsodic about it in the documentary.
“That’s me! Let me know if you’d be into it.”
Shewould. Books were a better escape than anything else in the world. “Sadly, I’m only here temporarily, and the carry-on I brought with me is small.”
“I’m happy to ship, too.” But Keelia’s tone was light. “So, how temporarily? Are you staying with Cordelia?”
“No, I’m at a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Will you move here, now that you’ve found each other?”
I have a life.But really, did she anymore?
“I’m just visiting.” But then, as if her brain hadn’t heard her own mouth, she found herself saying, “Someone mentioned a houseboat for sale in the marina?”
Keelia’s fact lit up. “Oh!”
Fritz said, “That’s Hector.Forget-Me-Knot’s a sweet little thing, although I’m not sure it’s really the kind of houseboat that leaves her dock. Needs a bit of work, I think. Probably won’t sink, though.”
“No, I’m not going to buy it.” But… maybe she could rent it for a week or two? The B and B was nice, but a houseboat sounded picturesque. “If Ididstay down there for a little while, what should I be concerned about?” Was there a problem with crime in a place like Skerry Cove? Meth, of course, might come into play. In a town like this, there was probably a good amount of it—young people got bored everywhere, didn’t they?
Keelia grimaced. “Friday nights can be difficult down there.”
Oh, no, could there be gangs in a place this small?
“Yeah,” agreed Fritz. “Avoid at all costs the southernmost boathouse on Fridays after six.”
This was exactly what she needed to know. “Tell me.”
“Cranky Al’s ukulele jam. It used to be pretty mellow, but since he invited the accordion players, it’s been a mess down there.”
Were they kidding? Beatrice couldn’t tell. Were they teasing her?
Keelia shook her head. “Right? They sure screw up the parking down there. For hours. I never knew there were so many accordion players in the whole world, let alone here in our little corner of the world.”
Beatrice looked at Fritz. “You’renotkidding.”
They fist-bumped her. “Welcome to Skerry Cove.”
“Seriously, I’m not buying a boat.”
Keelia didn’t look convinced. “I recommend earplugs.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
There’s no hurry. Take your time with your practice—it’s called that for a reason. You’re not going to get it all right, but you won’t get it all wrong, either. Deep breath. Then, when you’re ready, light the candle again.
—Evie Oxby,I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghosts
