Page 25 of One Night Forsaken

Every available inch of wall space on the second floor is covered in bookshelves, floor to ceiling, with a ladder available for higher shelves. The rest of the space has seven-foot wooden shelves, back to back, with barely enough room for a person to walk down the aisles. I highly doubt people could pass each other in the aisles, even sideways and hugging the shelves.

A few stepladders are parked at the end of the aisles. Books line, crowd, and nearly fall off the shelves. And though Ida said she would have dusted had she known I was coming, I can’t see a lick of dust in sight. Probably because the books don’t stay on the shelf long. I’ve been here less than an hour and have seen no less than twenty people scoping out their next read.

I snap a few pictures upstairs, peruse the romance section—my secret indulgence—and head back to the first floor. In the history section, I snag a book on the town’s history then amble to the register to pay. Not thinking before I left the B&B, I forgot my reusable bag in the room. Smart businesswoman that she is, Ida has a small selection at the counter and I add a large canvas tote to my order.

Ida rings up my selections. “This one’s excellent,” she says as she adds the romance novel to the bag. “She’s one of my favorite indies. Plus, she’s local.”

I hand over my credit card with a nod. “Just discovered her books this year and I’m loving them. You have an incredible selection of indies. I love it.”

“They don’t always get enough love in those big, fancy bookstores. I proudly add them to my shelves. Some of my favorite books were written by ‘lesser known’ authors.” She uses air quotes for the termlesser known.

“Agreed.”

Ida hands me my card and tosses the receipt in the bag before passing it to me. “Hope you enjoy the remainder of your visit. Stop in and see me anytime.”

I shoulder the bag and walk for the exit. “Will do, Ms. Ida. Thank you.”

I exit the Lake Lavender Diner and pat my stomach. The club sandwich and fresh-cut fries had hit the spot. But I need to do a bit of walking before I make it to my next two stops. All Scooped Up and Sweet Spot Bakery—both of which I won’t walk out of empty-handed.

I make the trek back to the B&B and take my book purchases to my room. Setting the bag, my camera, and the pen and paper on the bed, I sit in one of the chairs near the fireplace and take a breather. Clear notifications on my phone and read a few emails.

“Time for the best part of today,” I say, rising from the chair.

Forgoing my camera, I empty the bag, fold it, and stuff it in my hoodie pocket. Like the majority of the general populous, I’ll snap food pictures with my phone.

Patting my pockets, assured I have what I need, I leave the B&B and head for the ice cream shop.

Word on the street is the shop makes its own ice cream and sorbet. And from what little research I’d done, All Scooped Up caters to everyone—offering nondairy creamy confections as well.

Two shops down, singing fills my ears. When I step through the propped open door and inside the shop, the singing ends and every patron claps. It isn’t long before the shop employees start their next tune.

I get in line and read over the chalkboard menu. Minutes later, I locate a table near the window, whip out my phone, and snap a couple photos of the cream-topped waffle cone with the street view in the backdrop. Satisfied with the shots, I stow my phone and enjoy my after-lunch treat.

And damn, it does not disappoint.

Jovial singing continues in the packed ice cream shop as I all but devour the lavender Earl Grey oat cream. I’d been on the fence between this and the honey lavender, and I chose well. Today’s visit won’t be the last before I head home, guaranteed.

Exiting the shop, I turn left and walk in the direction of Sweet Spot Bakery. I scoured their social media account last night and got a tiny glimpse at what the bakery offered. I never saw a menu, but several images showed cases of baked goods and breakfast items. Hence my need for a bag.

Not only would I order sweets to last me a few days, but I’d also grab some breakfast items I could store and eat in my room. Another great way to avoid the best breakfast joint in town… and the woman who owns it.

CHAPTER8

ALESSANDRA

“I’ll be back soon.”

Willow waves me off. “Don’t rush. The doors are locked and everyone’s doing their thing.”

I scan the dining room and spot Lyndsay. Earbuds in, she bops to the music only she can hear as she wipes down tables and chairs. Sharon clears uneaten scones from the case and wipes down the shelves while August is at the kitchen prep station, slicing and dicing ingredients for tomorrow.

“Thanks, Will.”

She taps on the register screen and runs today’s totals before plucking the tills and heading for the office. “Tell Lucy and Fiona I say hi.”

I exit through the back, hit unlock on my fob, and hop in my SUV. Rolling down the windows, I breathe in the sweet scent of spring as I drive along the alley behind the stores.

The song on the radio ends as I park the SUV. Exiting, I don’t bother locking up since I won’t be long. I enter through the employee entrance at Lucy and Fiona’s and wave when I spot Fiona at the butcher-block table, icing a cake.

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