Page 7 of Secrets in the Stacks

He danced on the end of the leash, which was a clear yes. So instead of going out and to the right, directly back into the booth next door, Rarity went behind the row of booths. Several people had little camp tables and chairs set up there so they could escape the booth and the crowds. Trees lined the row of tents. Rarity let Killer wander through the area until he found the perfect place to relieve himself.

“If people find you hanging out here, they’re going to think you’re up to no good.” A man spoke behind her.

She turned to find Jonathon, Drew’s dad, standing by the tent, watching her. Jonathon and Edith Anderson had been two of the first people outside of Sam that Rarity had met and actually clicked with. They had lived in Sedona but now were living with Drew’s sister in Tucson. She walked over and gave him a hug. “What are you doing here? Did Edith come with you? I’m sure Sam’s going to be ecstatic to see you.”

“I’m just here to tie up some legal stuff with Martha Redding’s will. She named me executor. Did you know that? Even after she’s dead, the woman is still pushing me around.” He laughed softly and leaned down to greet Killer. “I showed up at Drew’s door last night after he got off shift. I’ll be here for a few weeks, but Edith decided to stay home. Joanna’s due any day now, and Edith can’t stand the idea of her being even a few minutes away, let alone four hours.”

“I didn’t realize she was expecting.” Actually, Rarity hadn’t known Drew had a sister until Jonathon mentioned that they were moving to Tucson to be near her a few months ago. “Hey, when you lived in Sedona, did you know a Cheryl Jackson? She’s a local author.”

“The name’s not familiar. What does she write? Mystery? Or thriller? Or maybe romance?” He stood up from rubbing Killer’s ears, and they walked back around the tents as they talked.

“Local history.” Rarity shrugged, gently pulling on the leash as Killer had found a new smell to investigate. “It was a long shot. I have one of her books in my inventory, and the bio says she lives here. I was wondering if she’d do a signing at the shop.”

“She might be a snowbird.” When Rarity looked at him oddly, Jonathon continued, “You know, one of those people who live somewhere else but come down in the winter to avoid the snow. If I was writing a history of an area and I had property there, I’d say I was a resident. It adds to the credibility.”

“Yeah, there’s that. Well, if you hear anything or know someone who might know her, give them my name. I’d love to start doing some author events at the shop, and local authors are easy to schedule around, and everyone wants to support them.” She nodded to the cooling tent. “I’m grabbing some lunch. Do you want to join me?”

“I’m meeting Drew in a few minutes. I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I’ll pop in on Monday to grab a few books for the trip. I’ve got enough reading material for a couple of days, but then I’m out.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you, Rarity.”

“Tell Edith I said hi when you call her tonight.” She started to move to the tent, then paused. “Sam’s across the way if you want to see her too.”

“That was my next stop.” Jonathon’s eyes twinkled. “Edith made me promise to visit the two of you as soon as I got into town. She thinks the world of you girls.”

Edith Anderson had decided to become Rarity’s de facto foster mom when she’d lived in town. She was always making food and dropping it off, since Sam and Rarity worked too hard. Rarity understood Edith’s interest in Sam. She wanted to marry her off to her son, Drew. But Edith had also taken an interest in Rarity, and she’d been sad to see the couple move away.

Drew had been ecstatic to get his house back. But she knew he missed his mom and dad, too.

Rarity watched as Jonathon disappeared into the crowd, then she ducked into the cooling station. With so many people wandering around the square, Rarity had expected the place to be busy. Instead, Carson sat talking to Holly, and the woman who’d run out of the bookstore to get a tarot reading now sat at a table, lost in the book Rarity had sold her. The place was dead.

Holly saw Rarity and stood. “Hey, the pizza and salad’s back here on a table. We’ve got it sectioned off so people won’t think it’s free food. How’s your morning been?”

“Busy. Has it been this slow all morning?” Rarity let Holly take Killer’s lead and went to fill a plate with food. She sat at a table they’d pulled behind Carson’s reading area and grabbed a bottle of water out of a tub filled with what looked like it had been ice. Now it was mostly really cold water.

“It will pick up in the afternoon. People don’t worry about getting overheated until later.” Holly sat down and put Killer on her lap. She looked over at Carson, who had just welcomed a new person into the tent. They were sitting down at her table for a reading. “How’s Darby? Carson feels really bad for scaring her. I explained she has a test coming up. It’s always hard around test time. You never know when it’s going to come back bad, if ever. You feel like you’re gambling, but you never win.”

“I’m sure Darby’s going to be fine. I think she’ll come in and apologize to Carson soon. She’s watching the bookstore right now with Malia.” Rarity took a bite of pizza and chewed thoughtfully. “We could have an oncologist come and tell us that the reversion rate for breast cancer isn’t all that high. Or things we can do to make sure it’s not coming back. Would that make you feel better?”

Holly shrugged. “Me, maybe, but I’m pretty rational. Anyway, we can ask the group.”

Rarity knew what Holly was talking about. People got superstitious about the cancer subject, especially after they’d gone through a scare. Or the real thing. She changed the subject and ate lunch while Holly told her about the people she’d met at the festival.

“This is why I love coming to these things. You never know who might be your neighbor and you’ve never even met them.” Holly listed off three of the people she’d met at the festival who had lived here for years.

“Oh, that reminds me. Two things. Did you send me a teapot?”

Holly’s comments reminded Rarity of her questions from yesterday.

“And do you know a Cheryl Jackson?”

“No teapot. Did you need one?” After Rarity shook her head, Holly tapped a pen she’d been playing with on her lips as she thought. “As far as Cheryl Jackson, I don’t think so. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it right now. Why?”

“Would it help jog your memory if I said she was a local author?” Rarity prodded. She’d probably find out that Edith or maybe Sam sent the teapot. She’d forgotten to ask Jonathon, although he might not know if his wife had sent the gift.

She’d run an internet search on the name when she got home if no one she talked to today knew the reclusive Ms. Jackson. Either the bio was old, or she’d lived here so long ago that no one had a memory of her.

“Not really. Honestly, before I had cancer, I didn’t read a lot. Not since I finished college. Then Malia turned me on to some fantasy books, and I got hooked again.” Holly glanced around the tent. “I just wasn’t that into local author events when I was younger. They never held them at the bar.”

“Hosting events at the bar is not a bad idea,” Rarity mused as she finished eating. “Thanks for lunch. Who do I pay for my share of the costs?”

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