She heard the sounds of Glen Gould playing Bach’s Goldberg Variations as she entered. Two elderly women chatted by the cookbooks, and a mother with a toddler browsed through the parenting section, aided by a clerk with curly blond hair. Sugar Beth used to believe nothing smelled better than the perfume aisles of a department store, but that was before she’d discovered the companionship of books. Now she breathed in the smell of the store.
A tiny woman, her head shaved to reveal the elegant shape of her skull, came toward her. She wore a close-fitting saffron, long-sleeved top, wooden beads, and a slim, calf-length wrap skirt made of kente cloth. She had a dancer’s body, what little there was of it, and she smiled as she slipped behind the cash register.
“What can I do—? Well . . .” She lifted her eyebrows. “Well, well, well.”
They were probably close to the same age, so they might have gone to school together, but Sugar Beth didn’t recognize her. There’d been little social interaction between the black and white kids, although they’d been expected to get along together, thanks to the influence of her father’s hiring policies at the window factory. Although Griffin Carey had been a Southern traditionalist in many ways, he’d held liberal social views, and he’d used his economic clout to enforce them. Modern-day Parrish, with a relatively prosperous African American community and a forty-year history of racial cooperation, had reaped the rewards.
Sugar Beth braced herself for the worst. “I’m afraid you have me at a loss.”
“I’ll just bet I do. I’m Jewel Myers.”
“Jewel?” She couldn’t believe this beautiful woman was Jewel Myers, the scruffy tomboy daughter of Diddie’s housekeeper Ellie. “I—uh—didn’t recognize you.”
“I grew up while you were gone.” She seemed amused. “I became a radical lesbian feminist.”
“No kidding. Interesting career path for a Mississippi girl.”
A customer interrupted with a question, giving Sugar Beth a chance to reorient herself before Jewel turned back to her. She took her time looking Sugar Beth over. “I used to wear your hand-me-downs. Mom made them over so they’d fit.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You never said a word about it. Year after year I’d show up at school in your old clothes, but you never once made fun of me.”
“I wasn’t entirely evil.”
“Honey, you were the biggest bitch in school. If I’d been a threat like Winnie, you’d have taken out an ad in the school newspaper. I gotta say, though, you didn’t bother the black girls much. Not unless somebody got in your face. Now how can I help you, Miz Sugar Beth Carey?”
Sugar Beth couldn’t keep the wistful note from her voice as she gazed around her. “You could give me a job. I love bookstores.”
“Afraid I don’t need anyone. Besides, I only hire lesbians and other persecuted minorities.” She grinned and took in Sugar Beth’s black lace top. “You’re not a lesbian, are you?”
“I haven’t been in the past. Which doesn’t say I wouldn’t consider it for the right employment opportunity.”
Jewel chuckled, an amazingly big sound coming from someone so petite. “So you’re looking for a job?”
“Technically, no. But my current employer is a heartless bastard, and I’d drop him in a second if something better came along.”
“The rest of us like Colin.”
“News travels fast.”
“A lot of people are holdin’ their sides laughin’. Even I, a fair-minded person with no overt reason to hate you, find it amusing. Did you know that Colin’s the one who helped me get a college scholarship? The counselors couldn’t be bothered.”
“He’s a real saint, all right.” Sugar Beth cast another wistful glance around the store. “I’m supposed to pick up the books he ordered. He said to put it on his account. And toss in some of Georgette Heyer’s regency romances while you’re at it.”
“Not Colin’s normal reading taste.”
“He’s broadening his horizons.”
Sugar Beth followed Jewel as she headed for the best-seller aisle. Gemima Books was both cozy and well stocked. Index cards dangled from the shelves with Jewel’s handwritten comments recommending a particular book. Comfortable chairs welcomed customers to sit and browse. Only the children’s section seemed neglected. “This is a great store.”
“I’m lucky. Even with all the tourists the community association has attracted, Parrish is too small to interest the big chains.”
“Where did the name come from? Gemima Books?”
“Jewel is a gem.”
“But Gemima?”
“I like reinterpreting African American female icons. Originally I was going to call it ‘Mammi’s’ with an i, but my mother had a fit. Thanks for that note you wrote when she died, by the way.”
They talked about books for a while. Jewel’s preferences ran toward socially relevant fiction, but she wasn’t a snob about it, and Sugar Beth could have followed her around all day. More customers entered the store, and Jewel greeted all but the tourists by name. She pointed out a book by a Hispanic author she said Sugar Beth should read, and a new commercial women’s fiction author destined to be a best-seller. It felt so good being with someone who wasn’t hostile that Sugar Beth had to resist the urge to throw her arms around Jewel and beg her to be her friend. Which just went to show how far loneliness could drag you down.
Jewel rang up her order and gave Sugar Beth an impish smile as she handed over the package. “Tell Colin to enjoy those Georgette Heyers.”
“I sure will.” She toyed with the strap of her purse, then shifted the package from one hand to another, trying to be casual about it. “If you get bored sometime and want to grab a cup of coffee, let me know.”
“Okay.” Jewel’s response wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but it wasn’t entirely unfriendly either, and Sugar Beth had heard that miracles did happen, even if they never seemed to happen to her.
She glanced at her watch as she got back into the car. She had more errands to run, but she’d stayed away longer than she should have, and she’d better put off the rest until tomorrow.
A good decision, as it turned out, because trouble lurked at the ducal estate. His Grace, it seemed, had grown restless waiting for the return of his lowly housekeeper . . .
“You are shameless!” he said angrily.
“Nonsense! You only say so because I drove your horses,” she answered.
G
EORGETTE
H
EYER
,
The Grand Sophy
CHAPTER SEVEN
Where the devil have you been?”
Colin stalked into the kitchen with Gordon padding at his heels, just as Sugar Beth set the last of the grocery sacks on the counter. “Running your errands, your lordshit.”
“You took my car.”
“Did you expect me to walk?”
“I expect you to take your own car.”
“I like yours better.”
“Undoubtedly.” He loomed over her. “Just as I liked that brand-new red Camaro you used to drive in high school. Nevertheless, I didn’t take it upon myself to run off with it, now did I?”
“I bet if I’d left the keys lying around, you would have. That junker you drove was a major embarrassment.”
“Which was the only reason I could afford to buy it.” He swept his keys from the counter and pocketed them. “Where’s my lunch?”
“I thought famous writers drank their lunch.”
“Not today. It’s two o’clock, and all I’ve had is coffee and cold poached eggs.”