“The owner. She said there were protesters blocking her entrance.” May frowned. “But Wally said as long as they are on the sidewalk, which is public property, he can’t stop them. Some nonsense about freedom of speech.”
“The police take the constitution pretty seriously,” Skye confirmed. “Wally had no choice until they attacked someone, like they did me a few minutes ago.” Oops! Skye knew she shouldn’t have said that the moment the words left her mouth.
“See!” May’s voice was shrill. “How can you marry someone who won’t even protect you? Simon always tried to stop you from putting yourself in danger, but Wally goes and makes you the police psych consultant.”
“Mother!” Emerald eyes that matched May’s own blazed. Her mom didn’t approve of Skye’s engagement to Wally, who was older, divorced, and not Catholic. There was nothing he could do about the first issue, and he was trying to get an annulment to address the second; Skye wondered whether her mother would come around if he converted, which would solve the third problem.
“Yes?” May’s expression was angelic.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, a fact Wally understands and applauds. I am not getting back together with Simon.” Skye gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t May accept that? Of course, Simon’s sudden determination to win her back at all costs wasn’t helping matters.
“We’ll see.”
“I’m marrying Wally as soon as he gets an annulment.” Skye and Simon had broken up more than two years ago, when he’d refused to explain how he “forgot” to mention that the college friend he was staying with on his trip to California was a woman. By the time he finally did clarify the situation, it was too late. “Deal with it,” Skye told her mother.
“Look how hard Simon is trying,” May wheedled.
He had actually shown up at her parents’ house last Sunday while they were all having dinner together and serenaded Skye with “Love Me Tender” from outside the kitchen window. His voice hadn’t been half bad, but the Elvis outfit was a bit much.
“Drop it, Mom.” Skye crossed her arms. “I mean it. Unless you want me to elope.”
May looked stricken. “Don’t even tease about something like that. I’ve been planning your wedding since you were born.” She clutched her chest. “I’m going to be at both my kids’ weddings if it’s the last thing I do.”
CHAPTER 5
All Quiet on the Western Front
When Skye finally entered Tales and Treats, she was astounded by the clever design. The main room contained the register, gift items associated with reading and writing, and a massive glass-fronted oak cupboard with an engraved plaque that read, RARE AND FIRST EDITIONS. Radiating from the central hub were the café and four areas decorated according to the genre they held.
She was immediately drawn to the mystery section. Elegant wood paneling and cushiony armchairs invited customers to relax as they made their choices. A jumbo magnifying glass hung over the fireplace mantel, and handcuffs, crime scene tape, and a variety of toy weapons were arranged on top of cherry occasional tables.
Skye looked around for Trixie, sure her friend would be attracted to this setting, but there was no sign of her. She did see her mother’s pals Glory and Hester, their arms full of paperbacks. They lifted their chins in greeting.
Next, Skye tried the romances, knowing that was Trixie’s second favorite read. Here the furnishings ran to a pink velvet chaise longue and a white wrought-iron daybed stacked with frilly pillows. Oversize champagne glasses and high-heeled shoes were placed on gilt tables, and a lace peignoir hung from a brass hook on the wall. Bunny was sitting on the floor, half glasses perched on her nose, engrossed in a book with a mostly naked cowboy on its cover. A flush tinged her cheeks, and she didn’t look up when Skye said hello.
Trixie had to be somewhere, and Skye doubted her friend was in the science fiction/fantasy/horror section, which was bedecked in outer-space gear, fairy wings, and vampire fangs. With Trixie’s active imagination, reading anything too scary was likely to give her nightmares.
Skye was also pretty sure her friend wasn’t in the literature alcove, which was decorated like a college professor’s office. They both agreed that they saw enough demoralizing endings in real life and didn’t need to read about them in their fiction.
On her way through the main hub to check for Trixie in the café, Skye spotted a wire cage the size of a refrigerator box behind the front counter. It was draped on three sides with dark material, and she couldn’t see what was inside. Curious, she threaded her way through the crowd toward the register.
As she got nearer, Skye saw a petite figure crouching down with her head and shoulders inside the pen, and called out, “Hi, Kayla. Are you enjoying your first day on the job?”
“Sorry.” After closing the door of the cage, the person turned around. She was wearing a yellow polo shirt with TALES AND TREATS stitched in black across the pocket. Beneath the store name, RISÉ was embroidered in dark green. “I’m not Kayla, but I am enjoying my first day on the job.”
“Sorry.” Skye felt her cheeks redden. “From the back, you two look very similar.”
“No problem.” The shop owner smiled. “Being mistaken for a nineteen-year-old is extremely flattering.” She held out her hand to Skye. “How kind of you to come to our grand opening. I hope your being here doesn’t cause a problem for you with your cousin.”
“Thank you.” Skye shook Risé’s hand. “I’m Skye. It’s my pleasure to be here, and I couldn’t care less about Hugo’s opinions.”
“I’m thrilled that so many Scumble Riverites are here.” Risé was glowing. “I was a little afraid no one would show up, and then with those people picketing in front of the door . . . Well, you can imagine.”
“Of course,” Skye reassured her. “But they’re gone now, and at least the leader of the pack didn’t show up.” She paused. Why hadn’t Pru been there, since this was her cause? “At any rate, they don’t seem to have stopped anyone.” She didn’t mention that the protesters had probably actually attracted a larger crowd.
“Your friends told me how they fought them off.” Risé straightened a stack of bookmarks. “That Bunny is my kind of woman.”
“She’s certainly unique. She’s one of those rare, truly happy-go-lucky people who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.” Skye mentally shook her head. Risé the intellectual feminist and Bunny the man-crazy flake were the original odd couple, but you never knew what circumstances would cement a friendship. “You’ve probably already noticed we have a lot of quirky folks around these parts.”
Risé shrugged. “I’ve never lived in a small town before, but I imagine this is pretty typical.”
“Typical isn’t the word I’d choose,” Skye answered, distracted by a glimpse of silver-gray fur in the cage behind Risé. “Not to be nosy, but is that a cat?”
“No.” Risé laughed. “If it were a kitty, I’d let it out, but chinchillas are a little shy.”
“Did you say chinchilla?” Skye asked. “Like the coat?”
“Shh!” Risé held a finger to her lips. “Beelzebub and Cherub are sensitive about that.”
“Sorry.” Skye giggled, then sobered. “FYI, you may want to reconsider that one name, considering what those women outside were protesting.”
“Good point.” Risé tapped her chin. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“How much is this?” A young woman interrupted them, holding up a delicate porcelain letter opener.