6. Chapter 6

six

The next morning, when she arrived at the Robin's Nest, several carpenters were at the door waiting to begin work on her apartment. As they carried in their tools and equipment, she readied the brand-new coffee urn she'd just purchased for the shop. She wanted to keep everyone working caffeinated and happy until the building was finished.

While it brewed, Harper packed a few boxes of old books to ship off to charity. As she pushed a cartload of them toward the front, she saw a woman dressed in an unseasonably lightweight jacket peering through a very narrow section of the front window where the paper didn't quite meet. The woman motioned to her. Harper sighed, feeling her typical reflexive irritation at the interruption.

But on opening the door, Harper forgot her annoyance.

"Hi! Do you remember me? I'm Deanna Chandler from Divine Coffee next door. We met when you came to town with your daughter, back around New Years. I hope it's okay to stop in like this. I've been wanting to come over and welcome you since you got here! I just wanted to give you a chance to settle in first. Someone told me you went to the Chamber meeting last night, so today seemed like a good time to stop by."

She glanced at the coffee pot on the counter and smiled broadly. Then Deanna handed over a paper bag. "I see you've got coffee taken care of! I brought you some fresh cinnamon streusel muffins."

Harper felt a rush of affection for this woman she barely knew. She smiled at Deanna's plump face with its warm smile. "Nice to see you, Deanna! I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have stopped in to say hi to you before now. My only excuse it that I've been so busy." She opened the bag and looked inside. "Oh, gosh! Those muffins look and smell fantastic!"

Deanna put a hand on the empty checkout counter. "Oh, I know there's a lot to do. The last owner, Frank, had a tough time the last few years. He was elderly and moved slowly. Business wasn't great, but he just kept plugging away. He was such a fixture in the community for decades—we were all shocked when he passed away. But I guess you've heard all about that."

Harper nodded. "Yes, Monica Tolbert, the realtor, told me about it during closing. He had a heart attack and a neighbor found him in the basement and called 911, but it was too late to save him. It's a sad story."

"Yeah, it was sad. He had a niece and nephew in Georgia. They inherited the place. But when they came up to look it over, they decided to just sell it and split the money. Everyone was surprised they weren't willing to clean it out or fix it up to make it more attractive. It had been for sale for over a year. I can tell you it hasn't helped the neighborhood, especially my shop, for it to be closed for so long—that's for sure."

She glanced around the open room. "Anyway, I think I can speak for everyone around here when I say, we're glad to have you here. I won't keep you; I need to get back to the coffee shop before the lunchtime rush begins. Good luck with your work here. Stop by and let me know if you need anything, anytime."

Harper promised she would. As she was closing the door, she was surprised to hear Deanna say, "Good morning! How's everybody doing today?" She peeked out to see only robins on the sidewalk. Smiling to herself, she placed the muffins on the counter beside the coffee pot. Taking out a piece of paper, she wrote "Muffins from Divine Coffee—help yourself" beside the bag. Then she pulled one out, enjoying tasty bites between taping boxes.

With that chore finished, she descended the stairs, flipping on the basement lights at the bottom. She paused to breathe in the pleasant smell of running water and pine that always seemed more prominent down there. Then she blinked in confusion. One of the tables was piled high with books, the emptied boxes lined up neatly under the table. That was strange because when she'd left the shop the day before, it was reversed—the tabletop had been completely empty, and the boxes on the floor were still full of books.

Harper turned on her heel and headed up the stairs to the top floor, where workers were busy tearing out old bathroom fixtures. They paused to look up at her. "Help yourself to the cinnamon muffins and coffee on the counter downstairs. And thank you to whoever unpacked the boxes for me in the basement."

They looked at one another, then shook their heads. One of them answered, "Ma'am, this is our first day here and none of us has been in the basement."

Harper frowned. "But, when I left yesterday, the boxes were all full and sitting on the floor. Today, I found three of them unpacked. The books are stacked on a table. I planned to unpack them this morning. I know I didn't do it."

She detected unease in their glances at each other. One of them muttered to the others, loud enough for her to hear, "I've always heard off the wall stuff about this place."

Seeing her alarm, one of them smiled at her and said, "Well, however it happened, it's good it's done." Harper nodded slowly and backed out of the room with a frown.

Great, now everyone in town will think I'm crazy. She went back down to the basement and began sorting through the books. Finding it hard to concentrate, she stopped every now and then to glance around nervously. Finally, she stopped working and closed her eyes to get a sense of her surroundings. How did things feel in here? Not threatening. Not dark. And there was that ever pleasant scent. No, she admitted, the only feeling she got was one of peace.

She tried to be as open minded as possible and wondered who had helped her. Could it be angels? Ghosts? A person who somehow had access to the building? The latter was most likely, though not as romantic. But why were there no signs of another person there? If someone were coming in, wouldn't they track in leaves or leave some other sign? She had found nothing of the sort, only completed chores.

Once again, she closed her eyes, and this time whispered, "Thank you, whoever you are, for the help . " Somehow, that small action helped her feel more in control and set her a bit more at ease. So with that, she finished sorting the books on the table.

Over the coming weeks, Harper adjusted to her invisible helper. Messes she left were cleaned up overnight. The building never seemed to need dusting. The windows always sparkled, even the top panes near the nine-foot ceilings.

But then one windy March morning, Harper walked in to find the coffee already brewing. By now she knew better than to ask the workers. Whether they were behind it or not, they always denied involvement. But to find the coffee brewing felt like a challenge, like a line had been crossed.

She waited until 2:00 that afternoon, when the lunch rush usually ended, to head over to Divine Coffee to eat her lunch. On entering the shop, she received a quick smile from the tall, freckled young man standing behind the counter. His name tag read "Travis."

"Welcome to Divine Coffee! What will you have?"

"I'd like a raspberry smoothie, please." She looked over the menu, which had changed since her trip here with Olivia. "And a small grilled chicken salad."

"Sure thing. Grab a seat and we'll bring it out when it's ready." He rang her order up.

"Thanks. Is Deanna in?"

"She's in the back." His smile faltered a little. "Do you need to speak with her?"

"Just for a second." She smiled as sweetly as she could to reassure him.

"Gotcha." He headed back to the kitchen and raised his voice. "Deanna, someone would like to speak with you."

Harper stood back to let the next customer approach the counter. When Deanna came out, she grinned. "Back for more muffins?"

"Hi, Deanna! No, but thanks again, they were delicious! I was wondering if you would be free sometime today or tomorrow to have a chat about the bookshop."

Deanna nodded. "Yes, of course, things should slow down here around two-thirty. Is it okay if we talk then?"

Harper nodded and sat down at a small back table with one of the books she had brought with her, then glanced around at the half-empty dining area before she opened it. Walt, the man with unruly hair and large tawny eyes, was sitting in a corner, watching her. She gave him a small smile and a nod. He nodded back and looked down at his cup. Harper opened her book of Italian folktales and began to read.

Within twenty minutes, Deanna had joined her with a chicken salad sandwich and cup of coffee for herself. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. As the conversation lagged, Harper said, "Mind if I ask you a few questions about the bookshop?"

"Ask away," Deanna said before taking a bite of her sandwich.

Harper shifted in her seat. "Tell me what you know."

"Well, Frank bought the shop sometime in the late 1960s, I think. Before that, it had been a new bookstore. I think it was founded in the 1920s. At least, I know that's when this row of buildings went up.

"Anyway, in the 1970s, downtown Whippoorwill Gap, like most cities and towns, was somewhat derelict and unappreciated. Most of the businesses either closed or moved out closer to the interstate. People didn't come around here like they had in the past. And almost no one lived here." She took a sip of her coffee.

"Frank bought the place for a song and converted it into a used bookstore. He didn't need to make money. His father was a successful lawyer, and his mother came from a wealthy family who owned a textile mill, so Frank was set for life if he didn't spend too much. Most of his business was from paperback book exchanges and comics. Customers got discounts if they brought him more books to sell. He also sold magazines and newspapers. Comic books were probably his biggest turnover. You know, Dungeons and Dragons—that sort of thing. Some of those Japanese games, like, what do they call it?"

"Pokémon?"

"Yeah, that kind of thing. He started having competitions with those games." She stared out the window thoughtfully.

"But by the time I opened this coffee shop, around fifteen years ago, he was doing very little business. I used to go in to see him every so often. He was a quiet fellow. Some of the professors at Sequoyah College would come in and look at his books, especially his hardbacks. One of them told me it was a great place to find treasures. For years, people sent Frank books whenever their relatives passed away. Often they had no idea that some of those books were valuable. Is that what you were wanting to know?" Deanna's black eyes felt incisive as they inspected Harper's.

"Partly. But I'm puzzled." Harper hesitated, wondering how to voice her concerns without sounding insane. "You said he sold mostly paperbacks and comics and that he was getting lots of books from estates towards the end. I expect the shop was a bit messy if he was elderly."

"Messy? My goodness, yes! Books were stacked everywhere. He had piles and piles of books all over the place. Old magazines, too. When he passed away, they had to clear a path to get down to the basement to bring him out."

Harper's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "But when I bought the place, it was neat as a pin! Books were stacked on tables, lined up on the shelves, or in boxes. Did his niece and nephew hire someone to clean it?"

"Maybe his niece and nephew hired someone to come in and clean the place up. I don't remember that happening, but I guess it's possible."

Harper took a deep breath before plowing ahead with another question. "Have you ever heard rumors of unusual things happening in the shop?"

Deanna looked amused. "Well, yes. There were rumors that the shop was haunted when Frank bought it. But he never said anything about it, that I know of. Frank was a good man. If you ever hear anybody say anything negative about him, I'd say the person you hear it from is the one with the problem. Frank was a little eccentric, but that just made most of us love him even more. Why? Is anything strange going on?"

Harper wondered a bit at Deanna's defensiveness about Frank, but she decided to plow on with her main concern. "I've got to admit, funny things do happen in there. I've found books moved around. The shop seems to stay dusted and swept and I'm not doing it myself. Maybe I'm only imagining some of this."

Deanna sat quietly for a minute. "Maybe, but you don't strike me as the type that would hallucinate. Unless you have hobbies I don't know about, that is." She chuckled, then got serious. "I have an idea! Why don't you run to the public library and see what you can find about the history of the shop? They have a good local history collection. I've done some research there myself. Ask for Greta Smith. She'll get you started."

Harper considered this. Why hadn't she thought to do that before? "That's a good idea. I'll do that tomorrow afternoon."

"You're not afraid to be in that shop, are you? My husband Dashawn and I live right upstairs here. If anyone were to break into your shop, I feel sure we would hear it. We would call the police. I don't think you have anything to worry about, but we're here if you need us."

Harper thanked Deanna as she picked up her bag and sweater and headed back to the Robin's Nest. Once there, she called a locksmith.

The next afternoon, Harper went to the Whippoorwill Gap Public Library at the upper end of the street. As Deanna advised, she asked for Greta Smith and was directed to the art deco reading room, in the local history wing of the original section of the building. Harper looked around at the beautiful crown molding and the heavy wooden tables, and thought back to her childhood going to Winterfield's public library with her Grandma Sophie on Saturday mornings.

She reached into her pocket, rubbed her thumb over Grandma's mirror, and sighed happily.

After she and the librarian established that they would be on a first name basis, she began with a local history book Greta had handed over, Hooting in the Holler: A History of Whippoorwill Gap . At close to five-hundred pages, the volume covered the history of Whippoorwill Gap and the surrounding county from 1709, when the first settlers arrived in the area. The book had been published in 1985 and was written by Walter Howell, a local historian.

Looking in the book's index, Harper was surprised to find several entries under "Robin's Nest, The." According to one of its articles, the bookshop opened in December 1923 to a couple named Byrd. Harper made a note that perhaps the shop was named the Robin's Nest because of the founder's name—not, as she had suspected, because it seemed to be such an odd magnet for robins.

Martin Byrd had been a librarian at Sequoyah College from 1919 through 1923. When he bought the shop in 1923, he moved his wife Chloe and their daughter Daisy into the building's basement apartment. The daughter passed away from polio complications at age five, in November 1923, right before the shop opened. After that, the couple ran the shop together until their second child was born. At that point, they moved out of the basement apartment into a house on Poplar Street. Harper looked out the window and wondered briefly if she could be renting that very house now. From then on, the basement was used for storage. The article didn't mention the upper floor.

Martin Byrd ran the shop for a total of twenty-six years. It was the first bookshop in town and sold new books, magazines, and newspapers. When Martin passed away in 1950, his children sold the shop to a bookseller from Atlanta named Donald "Don" Givens. He was forty-two when he moved to town. In 1955, he married a widow from Whippoorwill Gap named Frances Perkins, who was older than Givens, with grown children of her own.

Harper paused to wonder why Don Givens didn't change the name of the bookshop. Were robins hanging about the shop that far back?

The Givens ran the shop for twelve more years before selling it to a local lawyer's son named Frank Bailies, in 1970.

From this point on, Harper was already familiar with most of the information. At the time, Frank was twenty-eight years old. He had turned the upstairs apartment, which had been rented out by both the previous owners, into a community meeting space.

For the first decade or so, the shop thrived. But as the economy changed and people stopped shopping downtown, his business began to dry up. In 1980, Whippoorwill Gap Books opened uptown and took away even more of Frank's business. Shortly after that, he turned to exclusively selling used books, paperbacks, and comics.

The article mentioned that around that time, Frank began to extensively collect used folklore books in collaboration with a professor, Max Carmichael, the head of the new Folklore Studies program at Sequoyah College. So that explained the folklore books. As she was finishing the articles on the shop, Greta walked over and promised to have a list of newspaper articles related to the history of the bookshop ready for Harper by the following week.

Harper then checked the book's index for Grandma's name, Sophia Hanover, and the accident. She couldn't find references to either one, so she found Greta Smith and asked if she could look at newspaper indexes from 1976 and 1977. The newspapers were in a small room in the back, roughly the size of a walk-in closet. The newspapers before 1996 had been filmed and placed in metal filing cabinets with a sign above them reading "Microfiche and Microfilm." Harper was surprised the collection hadn't yet been digitalized. Greta told her they had just received the funding to convert them, and that this room's contents were scheduled to be shipped out in two weeks. At which time, she added wryly, the worn, though charming orange carpeting would also become a library memory.

Harper spent the rest of the afternoon at the antiquated machines, engrossed in articles pertaining to her grandmother's accident.

She already knew Grandma Sophie's body had never been found. According to the Whippoorwill Gap Gazette, no one in the area knew her or why she was in town. She hadn't checked into any local hotels. No one remembered seeing her in any of the restaurants or at service stations. And she had no relatives, friends, or business contacts in the area.

Her car had been totaled. A search was conducted that covered the entire county to find her, but no traces were ever found. Only her purse and wallet were still in the car. They held her driver's license and a ten-dollar bill. No clothing, suitcases, or signs of a struggle provided clues to the mystery. Harper's mind drifted back to the old brown Buick that Grandma called Sadie.

Later articles spoke of legends and stories that sprang up around "Grandmother Sophia," the Ghost of Old Granville Road. People claimed to have seen her at night along the stretch of road where her car went over the cliff, attempting to wave down travelers for help.

An October 1986 newspaper article said local children were dressing up as "the ghost of Grandmother Sophia" that year. The costume trend was as popular as the Smurfs and Darth Vader. Reading about it made Harper feel melancholy.

She opened her mirror and looked inside. More puzzled than ever, she wondered again why Grandma had sent her the mirror. It was obviously old, so why had Harper never seen it before? But more disturbing, why had her body never been found?