18. Chapter 18

eighteen

"Why didn't I think of this sooner?" Harper put a palm to each temple in despair. "Everyone in town is probably already committed that day! Can you think of anyone who might be willing to help?"

Deanna opened an oven door in Divine Coffee's kitchen and placed a huge tin of apple butter muffins inside. It was 5:30 am on Wednesday morning. Harper had woken up in panic after dreaming of an insanely busy opening day with people wrecking her shop while she was swept out the door by the crowd, unable to force her way back inside.

When she'd stepped out on her balcony to clear her head, she'd noticed the lights were burning in Deanna's shop kitchen. So she'd called to ask if she could come over. She needed Deanna's advice, and a cup of coffee would be nice, too.

"Well, there's Walt. I don't know if he's already committed to helping anyone, but I'll ask. He's cool-headed and strong. He'd be great in an emergency. He likes books … Oh! And there's Nate, Abby's little brother." She chuckled. "He's sixteen, old enough to help. He likes to read, too. He might be able to lend a hand, at least for part of the day. He helps take care of his grandmother on weekends, but maybe he can get away for a while. You'll know him if he shows up. He'll probably be the only tall, skinny kid with blue hair in the shop that day."

"I thought colored hair wasn't fashionable for young men anymore."

Deanna started the mixer for a new batch of blueberry muffins. "It is for Nate."

Harper took a sip of her coffee, basking in a trifecta of warmth: from the kitchen, the coffee, and Deanna's companionship. The thought of having Walt in the shop all day made Harper's nerves buzz with excitement. Merely being within sight of him threw her off-center. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad. And she didn't know how he felt about her. For all she knew, he found her as annoying as she found Quinn.

As for Nate, what harm could he possibly do? She agreed because she didn't have any better ideas herself. She figured Nate must be a pretty good kid if he helped take care of his grandmother. Deanna promised to ask Abby when she came in for work that afternoon.

The only other person Harper could think of who wouldn't mind helping was Quinn Ellis. But he would probably be required to work the college storytelling events and wouldn't be available. Besides, she wasn't sure she could trust Dr. Ellis to refrain from rearranging the folklore room or helping himself to items he wanted. No—of the two adults, Harper preferred Walt. She'd just have to stay busy to distract herself from those eyes of his.

Another entire day went by before it hit Harper. She hadn't seen her Fae friends in days. That morning, when she brushed her teeth, she'd noticed her bathroom needed cleaning. Where could they be? She assumed they were as excited about the opening as she was, possibly more. As she thought back over the past several weeks, her conscience pricked her. She'd been so busy, she'd neglected them.

Thinking carefully over the last few days, she realized she hadn't seen any of them since the night Deanna and Dashawn had come over—three days ago. The last one she'd talked to was Piper, when she'd shown her the mirror. She had planned to talk with all of them the next morning, but they hadn't shown up, and with so much to do, she had forgotten. Her heart squeezed with regret as she wondered if she had offended them.

Later that afternoon, still with no sign of them, Harper went over to Divine Coffee and sat down to a bowl of butternut squash stew and a cup of decaf coffee. While there, she caught Deanna as she walked by. "Have you seen any of my small friends lately?"

"Why no, Harper, not since I chatted with Miss Lily at your place the other night. I thought they were all busy helping you. Goodness knows, you need their help now."

"I haven't seen any of them since the night you guys came over to eat. I'm afraid I may have offended them." Harper stared out the window, trying vainly to glimpse a robin landing on the sidewalk.

"I seriously doubt that." But Harper detected a note of concern in her tone. Deanna glanced over at Walt, who was sitting by the door, and lowered her voice. "On a different topic, Walt said he would be happy to help you this Saturday if you asked him." She smiled and headed back to the kitchen.

Harper didn't finish her stew. She quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin and approached Walt's table. "Hi, Walt. Deanna says you might be willing to help me with my grand opening this Saturday?"

Walt raised his enormous gold-flecked eyes to hers. "That's right." He took another sip of his coffee.

"Do you want to come over and see how everything is set up? I could show you around as soon as I finish my lunch, or any time that works for you."

"How about tomorrow morning? Unless you have something that needs fixing around the shop. I could come over now if you do." The corners of his mouth raised slightly. "I know my way around a hammer. And I excel at lifting heavy boxes." He peered at her over his mug. She looked at his broad shoulders and thought he was probably right about that. She silently cursed herself as her face grew warm.

"Umm. Anytime tomorrow morning would be fine, Walt. I appreciate your help. It shouldn't be too strenuous. I don't believe I'll need a lot of hammering or heavy lifting."

Harper immediately wanted to kick herself for that last comment. She could feel the sweat breaking out on her forehead. Why couldn't she think before she spoke? But he didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, he slugged back the rest of his coffee and stood, looking her in the eye.

"It's going to be all right. It's all going to work out fine." Harper felt as if a heavy backpack she'd been unaware of carrying had dropped from her shoulders. She swallowed, touched at his show of compassion. How did he know she was worried?

She rewarded him with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Walt. I'll see you tomorrow."

That afternoon she drove to the big box store on the outskirts of town. She was surprised to find posters for the Robin's Nest going in, going out, and at the checkout counters. The place was mobbed with people. Some she recognized, but many she didn't. The atmosphere radiated pre-party euphoria. All the talk she overheard pertained to the festival. The inns and motels for miles around were completely booked; so were the campgrounds. The enthusiasm was contagious. Despite her worry about the faeries, she couldn't help feeling fired up.

After she got home and put away her supplies, she looked the building over, inside and out. Seeing no signs of the Fae, she called their names, thinking maybe one of them would turn up. When none did, she headed over to Puckett's Park to scout around. People were building temporary displays for the reenactments in the cool mountain afternoon, but no robins or Fae were in sight.

Running out of ideas, she slipped down the unmarked path to the riverbank. The only thing that greeted her there were fallen leaves and drying reeds. She walked to the spot where she had entered the portal with Hawthorne and Ivy only a few weeks ago. Now thick, impenetrable vines covered the spot, and Harper wondered briefly if she had only imagined it. Overhead in the large sycamore tree, the owl watched her closely, surrounded by gold and brown foliage. She looked up at it. "Do you know where they are?" In response, it blinked its eyes and turned its head to look at the spot where the portal had been.

In bed that night, when Harper opened her mirror, she examined the dull gray, brown, and green mottling. It was as though the reflective surface had been completely devoured.

"Grandma, I hope you can hear me. I don't know where my friends have gone. Did they decide I don't need their help? If they thought that, they were wrong. And even if I didn't need their help, I would want them with me anyway. They make me happy. Can you tell them that for me? Please? I want them to come back."

She looked at the mirror for a few moments more before closing it and turning out the light. Between anticipation of working with Walt the next day and worry over the Fae, it was a restless night.

The next day, Harper had little time to think about her missing shop mates. She tried to make herself look nice, even going so far as to apply makeup. She pulled on a gauzy black top that she hoped would hide some of the extra weight she had put on around her middle since moving to town. After trying unsuccessfully to style her hair with a curling iron, she tied it up in a messy bun that didn't look too bad. When Walt came in that morning, she observed appreciatively how nice he looked in faded jeans and a blue t-shirt covered by a flannel shirt. Tearing her eyes away, she turned her attention to the good luck cards and wishes that had been plastered all around the door, along with several additional boxes of book donations.

Walt brought the boxes in for her. Then she showed him around the shop, except for the small special collections room. Its door was locked and labeled with a sign that read, "Surprise Special Collection—Opening Soon." Walt didn't comment on that or much of anything else. As her nervousness grew, she reminded herself that he was a quiet person. He examined everything with apparent interest. He merely nodded approval when she showed him the elevator. After lingering in the folklore room, he pointed to a section of shelving. "I see you kept the A.E. Crowe novels Frank had collected. That makes me happy. Have you read any of them?"

Harper looked at the shelves of novels, all based on Appalachian folklore. "No, I haven't. But I did my research. I know they have a good reputation in the fantasy and folklore communities. Do you recommend them?"

He turned his chestnut-honey tinted eyes to hers. "For what it's worth, yes."

She cleared her throat. "Well, then, for what it's worth, I'll give them a try. Which would you recommend I read first?"

He handed her a book titled A Call from the Forest . "I'd start with this one. It should give you a good idea of the writing style and the subject matter."

"Thanks! Help yourself to anything you'd like for helping me out, by the way. And I want to pay you. Does twenty dollars an hour sound okay?"

In response, he shook his head as he ran his fingers over a table display. "No need to pay me. I consider helping you an honor. But I will take this book if you don't mind." He picked up a guide to Eastern North American birds.

After he left, with a promise to be back about thirty minutes before the 9:00 opening the next morning, she hurriedly processed the boxes of books he had brought in for her.

Just before sunset, Harper rested on her balcony bundled in a heavy jacket, with a blanket and a glass of Pinot Noir, watching the activity in the park. Despite the prodigious noise, the owl also watched it all with her from his sycamore limb. After the sun fully set, she went back inside for an Epsom salts bath, which she followed with reading the novel Walt had recommended, in bed. But neither the bath nor her mug of lavender–chamomile tea calmed her fidgets.

At one point, she put down the novel to examine the tarnished mirror. "Grandma, this is it. I won't ask for magic. But please wish me well. I'm so nervous about the opening tomorrow." She swallowed. "And I still want my friends back. If you see them, please tell them for me."

To her relief, A.E. Crowe's novel proved engrossing once she got into the story. The intermingled Cherokee and local folklore kept her spellbound. Since it was set in the modern world, she found it easy to put herself in the story and get caught up in its magic. And so, thankfully, the night passed quickly. She fell asleep around 3:00 am but was up and dressed by 6:30 that morning. She padded downstairs hoping to find the Fae, but the shop was empty of life, save her own.

She went back upstairs to drink a cup of strong black tea while wrapped in a blanket on the frosty back deck. Dashawn, sitting on the deck next door, was equally bundled. He raised his mug to her, and she returned the gesture. Neither spoke for fear of waking the people camping in the park. Looking past Dashawn, she was disappointed to see the owl was missing. He needs to eat too; he's probably out hunting . Draining her cup, she went inside and dressed for her big day.

In keeping with the festival's theme, she had bought a cream cotton blouse and a loose, wool smock jumper in steel blue to wear that day. Harper paired them with cream-colored tights and black lace-up boots, then pulled the front section of her wild hair back, clasping it with a silver barrette. For the second day in a row, she polished off her preparations with a light coat of makeup. She studied the effect in the mirror. No one would confuse her with a twenty-five-year-old, but for someone in her late fifties, she was happy with her reflection.

Even though the sign on the storefront said the shop would open at 9:00 am, by 8:00, Harper could no longer stand the wait. She unlocked the door and flipped on all the lights. Today, no matter what came through that door, she was ready to meet it. And only ten minutes later, Walt walked in with two large cups of coffee and a couple of pumpkin cream cheese muffins from Divine Coffee.

"I was going into the coffee shop when I noticed your lights were on, so I thought I'd bring you some breakfast. You're going to need extra energy today," he said as he handed her the coffee.

"Thanks, Walt! I've been too nervous to even think about breakfast." She pulled napkins from beneath the checkout counter and passed one his way.

He unwrapped his muffin. "Supplying good ideas is my objective for being here." Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "I expected you'd be too nervous today to think clearly."

She smiled gratefully and took a sip of strong, dark coffee. How did he know she took it with cream and no sugar? Deanna must have told him.

Before they finished their muffins, Quinn Ellis walked through the door, decked out in blue jeans and a red and white checked shirt with red suspenders and a black flat hat on his head. "Hi Harper … Walt. I thought I'd get here early and be the first in line. I need to be at the college to help with the storytelling at ten-thirty. But since you seem to be open, is it okay if I come in?"

Harper looked into his eager brown eyes and smiled. For the first time, she felt genuinely happy to see him. He'd stressed his expertise in folklore so often that she was now curious to know what he'd think of her collection. "Sure Quinn. Come on in. Feel free to look around."

He rocked forward on his toes as if eager to start a race. "Any place off limits?"

"If it is, it's locked. The shop is on this floor and in the basement. If you can get to it, it's open. But you may want to start at the first door on your left." She pointed down the hallway.

His eyebrows reached new heights when he saw the "Folklore Collection" sign hanging above the door, and he quickly disappeared beneath it. When he emerged, it was almost time for his shift at the college to begin. He reminded her of a giddy teenager when he brought several thick reference books to the counter.

She rang him up. "I'm glad you found something!"

"Yeah, I really need to be going, but wow! I like what you've done with the place! I don't know where you found some of that stock, but you've got some good books in there! And once again, I'm happy to help you out part-time."

Harper was too relieved by his praise to be annoyed with his never-ending offers to work for her. "Thanks, Quinn! You're welcome to come back any time I'm open. But I don't think I'll be needing any help for a while."

He looked at Walt, who was talking with an elderly woman in the children's section. "Oh. Is Walt working for you, then?"

Harper shook her head. "Just for today. I may hire someone at some point, Quinn, but not yet." She placed his books in a large robin's egg blue bag with The Robin's Nest stamped on the front.

"Have fun with the storytelling!" she called as he turned toward the door. He threw up his hand at her before melting into the crowd outside.

After that, the door opened and closed with such frequency that Walt propped it open. Several visitors told her they came to the festival every year and were thrilled to see the Robin's Nest open again. A woman from Ohio told her, "We missed this place when it was closed last year. It's always been a big part of the Whippoorwill Gap experience for us!"

While most were pleased with the changes she had made, a few high school and college students lamented her decision to get rid of the comic books. Harper nodded sympathetically. She had expected this. She offered them a free cup of spearmint- and lemon-infused water that she'd made after breakfast and asked them to take their time looking around. Some of them, after a bit of exploration, discovered books to purchase.

Later that evening, with her feet propped up on her blue living room ottoman, she reflected over the day. As it wore on, the shop had become increasingly busy and muggy. She had set the thermostat to seventy degrees, and she heard the air conditioning flip on more than once. During brief breaks from answering questions, she reflexively looked out the windows to see if the robins were on the sidewalk. But the crowds were so thick, there was no room for a robin to land.

By 11:00 am, the shop was filled with people. Harper never imagined so many people could fit into Whippoorwill Gap. The customers kept her so busy, she forgot all about lunch. Around 2:00 pm, Walt went out and came back with corned beef sandwiches and homemade chips from O'Malley's Pub Fare, the food truck across the street. The sandwiches were delicious, but so big that Harper saved half of hers for dinner.

After she sold several of the A.E. Crowe books, she went back into the folklore room and pulled a copy of each of his novels off the shelves and put them behind the counter to keep for herself. A customer had told her that vintage copies of his hardbacks were highly collectible.

Shortly after Walt polished off his sandwich, he stationed a tall, slim young man with blue hair at the shop's doorway to serve as gatekeeper, only allowing one group to enter as another left. That was the first time Harper saw Nate. For a while, there was a line to get into the shop. The crowds began thinning out after 5:00, and around that time, Nate disappeared. Minutes before the 6:00 pm closing time, he emerged from the basement.

"It's a mess down there—would you like me to stay and help you straighten it up?"

Harper looked up at him and nodded gratefully. Even though she was exhausted, she knew tomorrow morning everything needed to be neat before she opened.

Walt asked if Harper wanted to close on time. Harper, her energy tank nearly depleted, nodded yes. He locked the door then stood beside it, only unlocking it to let people out. It was an hour past closing time before the shop emptied of customers.

Harper tried again to pay him for his help. He staunchly refused, not even letting her pay for the food he'd bought for her. "Seriously, Harper. This has been a great day for me."

He began to straighten the books around the disheveled front section, and Harper made her way downstairs to check on Nate. The shelves were already as neat as they had been early that morning, though a bit emptier.

Nate stared at the sci-fi books, his back to her. His remarkable hair was the bright blue color of cobalt. "Take any of them you'd like." He jumped.

"I didn't hear you come down. You have some good books here. They're in better shape than Frank's paperbacks. You have a couple of Asimov books I haven't read."

"Take them. I appreciate your help … Nate, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm Nate. I would have introduced myself when I came in, but you were busy. And I'd be happy to help you anytime. This place was always my idea of heaven. I started hanging out here with Frank back when I was old enough to ride my bike across town alone. Frank was a great guy. I've missed this place."

"Well, Nate, you're welcome to come hang out here any time I'm open." He carried the books upstairs and laid them on the counter. Then he joined Walt in the folklore room to help restore order.

After Nate left, happily carrying his Asimovs and some cash Harper gave him for his time, she removed the money from the cash register. Walt finished sweeping the main floor and joined her, checking behind her accounting. After subtracting the beginning total, she was surprised to find over a thousand dollars in the till. Adding that to the amount her credit card account reported, she discovered she had made almost three thousand dollars that day.

"Not bad for one day's take in a used bookstore," noted Walt.

"You're right! And I'm surprised because I sold more rare folklore books than I expected to." Harper was tired, and she was happy to be sitting on the stool behind the counter, giving her feet a break.

Walt appeared thoughtful. "That makes sense though, this being a folklife festival. Do you want me to come back to help tomorrow?"

"Only if you'll let me pay you."

He sighed. "Okay, I'll let you buy my lunch and give me another book. How about that?"

Too tired to argue, she smiled. "You've got it! And tomorrow, we won't open before ten."

As she climbed into bed that night, she was too exhausted to worry over the mirror's tarnish. She picked it up without opening it. "It was a good day, Grandma. But I still want my friends back." Once she flipped off the lamp and her head landed on the pillow, she knew nothing more until her alarm woke her the next morning at 8:00.