13. Chapter 13

thirteen

After breakfasting on Harper's homemade oatmeal–blueberry pancakes and bacon, Gina left for Raleigh on Sunday around noon. Now that the workers were finished with remodeling, Harper had nothing to distract her from the heightening pressure the approaching grand opening had spawned.

Early Tuesday morning, she got an unexpected call from Olivia, who had decided she wanted her father's Eagle Scout memorabilia after all. Not only that, but she wanted to have it shipped to Toronto as soon as possible. While Harper didn't specifically remember what she'd done with Tim's patches, memory books, and assorted trophies, she did remember offering them to her daughter, who had turned them down. There was a possibility she'd stored the collection in a storage unit she'd rented outside of town, but she had no idea in which box to look.

What prompted Olivia to change her mind was a mystery. But with all Harper had to do to get the shop ready, it was annoying that she wanted it now. When she'd suggested Olivia come down to visit, see her new place, and search the storage unit herself, Olivia had gotten angry.

"Really, Mom? You're there and I'm in Toronto ! I'm taking classes right now. Couldn't you take a few minutes to see if you could find it for me?"

Harper had tried to remain calm. "Olivia, I don't understand the rush to get this. I've got more than I can do right now. I'll go look for it after the shop opens and everything settles down, or you could come down before then and look for it while you're here."

The call had ended with her daughter acidly pointing out that Harper was always too self-absorbed to consider Olivia's feelings. Harper, as usual, had come away stunned and hurt. She wondered if she had been as hard on her own mother. Maybe she had. But if so, she doubted her mother ever let it bother her.

Already agitated, she stood in the small special collections room trying to switch her attention to the dilemma before her. She had already decided to put the folklore books in the larger room. What sort of collection should be placed in this room? Several options presented themselves: one was a creative arts collection, another was cookbooks, and still another was nature writing. This last option, she thought, would probably make the most sense. People who came out to hike and kayak in the surrounding mountains might be interested in buying those kinds of books. The problem was that nature writing wasn't one of her primary interests.

When she'd discovered the shop came with a ready-made folklore collection, she thought it would be fun to add another collection to serve as a passion project. Collecting rare and valuable books on a topic she really cared about would give her the opportunity to learn more about the topic and then, if all went well, to sell the collection when she retired. In so doing, she hoped to leave an endowment to a cause she cared about. It was important that it be something she created through her own efforts.

From the beginning, she'd wished to have this room ready for the grand opening. That way, she could leverage the crowds who visited during opening weekend. Maybe some of these customers would provide leads for finding more of those types of books. But right now, only empty shelves lined the room's walls. Time was growing short, and she was increasingly frustrated with her inability to decide.

To distract herself, she turned her attention to the large folklore room across the wide hallway. She surveyed this room with satisfaction. Lined floor to ceiling with shelves and double-sided, three-foot shelving units in the middle of the floor, it contained plenty of room for the folklore books still stored in the basement, waiting for the trip upstairs in the elevator.

Let's do it, she thought to herself. Heading to the basement, she loaded a few boxes into the elevator and wheeled them to the doorway, where she left them outside the room. Then, though it was still early, she decided to call it a day. Hoping to make up with Olivia, she drove to the storage unit to see if she could locate Tim's Eagle Scout collection. While she was at it, she'd mull over what to put in the small room. With any luck all would become clear after a good night's sleep.

Fortunately, she found the Eagle Scout collection without too much trouble. She called Olivia, who was happy to hear she'd be getting it soon.

She sounded contrite. "I'm sorry I blew my stack, Mom. But I wanted to show my new academic advisor Dad's collection. He's a former Eagle Scout himself. I thought it would be a good way to bond with him."

Happy she had settled one issue, Harper planned to take the box of memorabilia to the post office after lunch.

But when she made her way downstairs, her composure evaporated as she realized she was no closer to a decision about the new collection than she had been the day before. No longer merely concerned, she was becoming agitated over her indecision. How was she supposed to run a business if she couldn't resolve something this simple? Her entire body was taut with anxiety.

In this frame of mind, she became aware that the books she'd left in the hallway had already been removed from the box and neatly arranged on a shelf near the folklore room's doorway. She hadn't yet decided where she wanted to place these books on the shelves. And, as they say in the South, that fixed it. She heard herself asking in a waspish tone, "Who shelved these books?"

Alida's dark head popped up over a table. "I did!" She beamed at Harper as if expecting praise.

Harper gave the little sprite a stony stare while exhaling a long, loud breath. "Alida, could you please find the others and have them meet me in the back of the shop by the windows?"

Alida's smile faded as she nodded and disappeared. By the time Harper walked the short distance to the back, all the faeries were waiting. They looked at her expectantly. She began venting her frustration. "Look. Don't think I don't appreciate all the help you've all given me, but from here on out, I'd prefer it if you'd ask me before you change or help with anything." Rather than taking wind from her sails, expressing her annoyance only seemed to increase its strength.

Her volume rose as she plowed on, "And would it be possible for you all to actually knock on my door upstairs, and wait for me to invite you before you come in? I need my alone time. It makes me nervous when folks show up unannounced." Now on a roll, she continued without pause. She looked at Alida and Lily. "And I can't think with you guys gabbing at me when I'm trying to work. Maybe it would be best if you let me work by myself, at least until the grand opening is behind me." The two sprites hung their heads. But Harper still wasn't finished.

Later, thinking back on it, she had no idea what possessed her to say what she said next, but it was out of her mouth before she thought it through. "Honestly, if I had known you were here, I probably wouldn't have bought this place at all." As soon as these words were past her lips, she heard a small gasp.

She stopped speaking and waited for their response. When none of them moved after her speech, she grew alarmed. Was she missing something? She had only expressed her understandable feelings. But they all just stood there, staring at her wide-eyed for a long moment. Then Hawthorne responded gravely, "We will do whatever you wish. But you must remember we've considered this shop our home for over a century now. It won't be easy to change our habits. Everything we do is intended to help."

Most of them, except for Hawthorne, Piper, and Ivy, looked at the floor as they nodded. They reminded her of children who had been chastised. Harper thought back to the times her father had gotten angry with her when she had only meant to show her love. Suddenly, she felt mean and petty. If she had been honest with them from the beginning, this whole scene could have been avoided.

She was especially chastened to see that Alida appeared humiliated. Her little green cheeks were tinged with gray. She burst out, "It's all my fault. I'm sorry!" She placed her face in her small hands as Ivy moved behind her and placed her arm around the sprite's narrow shoulders while glaring at Harper over her head.

Harper, recognizing that she had offended them, desperately cast about for some way to soften her message. "Maybe that came across too harsh. But wouldn't you all like a break from working now and then? Listen, I've been thinking about making a space for you all under the stairs in the basement. Would you like that? We could put cushions in there and whatever else you'd like. I'll bring food to you."

The room was completely hushed for a few more seconds. Then, ignoring what Harper had just said, Ivy looked her in the eye for a moment before elevating her chin. "Yes. Of course. It is your shop. You bought it without knowing about us. You had plans for it. And of course you're free to run it as you see fit. But Alida was only trying to help. She and Lily talk with you because they like you. If we had known our help wasn't wanted and that our company wasn't appreciated, we wouldn't have offered it. If you don't want us here at all, say so. We can go."

"No!" Harper felt icy when the import of her last statement fully hit her. "No! I do want you here. I just want … to be in charge, that's all." Her chest began to ache, and she was having trouble thinking. "Please don't be angry. I didn't mean that I don't want you here." She looked at their downcast faces.

They nodded with somber expressions. Then, in pairs, they left the room. They didn't simply disappear, as they sometimes did, especially when they were happy. They walked away. Finally, the only one left with her was Hawthorne. He stood there looking at her with his fathomless, inscrutable eyes.

He spoke plainly. "You need to remember you are not dealing with humans. We do not live by your rules. If you had made such a speech to many of our kind, you would have already found yourself alone with no hope of a return."

She met his gaze with misery. "I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful."

"There are things you need to understand. First, we never mean offense to anyone who owns this shop. But we have, all of us, pledged ourselves to be of help here. If we can't help, in the best way we see fit, there is no reason for us to stay. You see, if we consent to do only what you ask us to do, and nothing more, we are little more than unpaid servants. The one thing we value above all else is our freedom…our agency. What you are asking would deprive us of that."

Harper looked out the window, a knot forming inside her throat. "I had hoped you stay here because you like me."

He gave a small chuckle. "Our feelings about you do not matter overmuch. Some of us do , in fact, like you, very much. Not one of us dislikes you. We understand your need for privacy. It may not seem so to you, but we've tried to be mindful. Changes can be arranged. From today forward, we will wait to be invited to come to join you upstairs, unless you change your mind. But you must understand—if we are not allowed to freely serve here with joy, we will leave, and we won't come back until our efforts are welcome again."

Harper felt as though her brain had turned to lead. All her life, she had been unable to think when people were angry with her. She searched miserably for a way to put things right. "I expressed myself too strongly. I didn't mean to offend any of you. But I see I have. Tell me how I can make it up to you all."

Harper became increasingly uneasy as he stood mute and unmoving for a few moments more.

Then he sighed. "We will discuss the situation among ourselves. I believe you are not totally at fault. You need to learn some things about us. And there are crucial matters you need to understand about yourself . I will let you know what we decide. I promise we won't leave for good without saying goodbye."

Harper nodded, too stunned to speak. Even though she regretted hurting their feelings, before Hawthorne had left the room, she was already defending herself in her mind. They were overreacting. Why they took her request so gravely made no sense. She may have been a bit harsh in her delivery, and she regretted her last statement about not buying the shop, but her request wasn't unreasonable. After all, it was her shop. Naturally, she wanted to be in control. She decided they were being oversensitive. They would get over it with time, she thought as she stood up and made her weary way back to the folklore room.

As she walked through the doorway, her foot caught on something and she crashed to the floor. After catching her breath, she saw that the box of books she had left out the night before had been repacked and placed barely inside the room's doorway. She sat still for several minutes waiting to see if anyone would offer to help her up from the floor. When no one did, she made her way slowly to her feet and placed a hand on her shin. She could feel the bruises forming already.