Bark to the Future (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 5) Page 3

  The flight from Tucson to Los Angeles was mercifully short. Thanks to her last-minute reservation, Beth managed to get the worst seat on the plane. There was a reason no one wanted the last row with the non-reclining seats next to the lavatories. Beth hid behind her book and pretended not to notice people. But by the end of the flight, she knew far more about the toilet habits of her fellow passengers than she ever wanted to know. It was a relief to walk into the LAX terminal and merge into the crowd of anonymous travelers.

  After signing paperwork and giving the rental agency what seemed like an exorbitant amount of money for a shiny new Ford Explorer, she headed away from the city. Driving up the mountain toward Alpine Grove, Beth was overwhelmed with memories. She had named various turns along the winding road when she was little. She passed by ‘Deer Meadow,’ where large ungulates tended to gather and ‘Skippy Corner,’ where she’d once seen a peanut-butter-colored young bear. Everything was covered with snow now, but it was easy to imagine the familiar areas in every season. As she drove down the main street of town, she was struck again by how little things seemed to change. It appeared that the old Frederickson’s building was being restored, but other than that, Alpine Grove seemed untouched by the passage of time. A number of staple businesses like Bea Haven Gifts and her mom’s bookstore, Twice Told Tales, looked exactly the same as they had ten or twenty years ago.

  She turned down a side street and drove to her mother’s house, where she’d grown up. The old house had been built in 1909 and its gray clapboard siding and white trim looked as neat and tidy as ever. Underneath the snow, Beth knew her mother had tended to all the plants, carefully shutting down the garden so her favorite perennial flowers would live to bloom another year.

  The house had a gambrel roof and white columns that held up a little overhang above the front door. After reading Gone With the Wind when she was twelve years old, Beth thought the columns were “the coolest” because Tara had columns too. Although it certainly wasn’t plantation size, the unusual entry did set the house apart from the other houses in the old neighborhood. Grabbing her luggage from the backseat, Beth got out and went up the walkway and the three steps to the front door. As she entered the home, she was greeted by the sounds of her mother’s Shetland sheepdog Arlo, barking indignantly from the kitchen where he’d been confined behind a tall wooden baby gate.

  “Hi Arlo. It’s just me.”

  The dog started bounding around happily behind the gate. Beth clicked the latch and let it swing open so he could run out into the living room. “Do you want to walk down to the store and say hi to Mom?”

  Arlo expressed his agreement loudly and ran around in a circle, clearly thrilled at the prospect of an unscheduled walk. Beth grabbed an old heavy winter coat from the hall closet and the dog’s leash from the hook next to the door.

  Snapping the leash onto his collar, she said, “Okay, buddy, are you ready to embark?” Beth giggled at his single bark in response. Arlo was up for any excuse to be vocal. It was such a sheltie thing.

  Locking the door behind her, Beth stepped back outside into the sunny, cold afternoon. It obviously hadn’t snowed lately, because all the sidewalks and roads were completely clear. The temperature was in the low thirties, which was warm for Alpine Grove in February, but it didn’t exactly feel balmy to Beth. Too many years of enjoying the desert sunshine had ‘thinned her blood,’ as people liked to say. Now she was the type of serious cold wimp who used to get teased back when she lived here. Fortunately, her mother had a vast collection of outerwear, and every coat had at least two pairs of gloves rammed in the pockets, so Beth was ready for anything.

  The house was five blocks away from the main street of town where the bookstore was located. As Beth and Arlo meandered along the familiar tree-lined sidewalks, she recalled all the times she’d walked this way before. Arlo was not exactly a speed walker, so Beth had lots of time to survey the neighborhood. Nothing much had changed. When she was growing up, every day after school she went to the bookstore, did her homework, read, and sometimes helped out with store-related tasks, depending on what her mother was doing. After the store closed, she and her mother would stroll through the neighborhood and discuss the events of the day.

  Even though she’d visited her mother in Alpine Grove a number of times since she’d moved away, everything seemed different now. Maybe it was because Beth’s life was at such a crossroads. For the first time ever, Beth had no idea what was going to happen next. Most of the time she’d been in school, she was thinking about graduating and getting a scholarship so she could go to college. And then during college, she focused on doing well, so she could get a good job afterward. She’d worked hard for years and everything had just fallen naturally into place. Until it all fell apart. Being laid off had nothing to do with how well you did. No one cared if you got straight As or fantastic performance reviews when someone in India was willing to do the same job for vastly less money.

  As she grieved the loss of her job and the life she’d created in Tucson, it was hard not to feel bitter and angry at RTP. Intellectually, she knew the company had been good to her for years, and now she had a great severance package, so she had plenty of time to figure out what she was going to do. But she was at loose ends. There were no deadlines. No one was depending on her insights and intimate knowledge of specialized technology. Suddenly, there was just nothing.

  Sighing at her spiraling depressing thoughts, Beth turned onto the main street of town with Arlo leading the way. He was obviously excited that they were heading toward the bookstore. In front of the old Frederickson’s building, a woman who looked somewhat familiar was walking toward Beth. Of course, for anyone who had grown up in Alpine Grove, it seemed like you half-recognized just about everyone. At least the sense of knowing every single person in town was no longer quite as oppressive since Beth had been away for ten years. But odds were good that if she went to the grocery store, she’d be able to identify dozens of people and their reading habits.

  Beth nodded at the pretty blonde woman, who smiled politely in return before opening the door to the stairs that went up to the second-floor offices. Beth noticed that the first floor now housed an advertising agency. That was new. The real-estate office that had been there before must have finally closed. Beth stopped and said to Arlo, “Oh, I know! That was Bea Sullivan’s daughter. What was her name? Tracy?”

  Arlo looked up at Beth, but didn’t provide any insights. It was starting to come back. Tracy was a year younger than Beth. A member of the class of 1986 and a cheerleader. Ugh. No wonder Beth had trouble remembering who she was. Tracy didn’t seem to have recognized her, either. No great surprise there. The cheerleaders traveled in a completely different social strata than Beth had. Yet another reason she was hoping Mom would not bring up the whole reunion idea again. Reliving bygone high-school days was definitely not Beth’s idea of a good time.

  Beth walked into the bookstore and smiled at the familiar scene. Her mother was sitting behind the antique writing desk she used as a counter, reading a thick hardback book. She looked up at the sound of the jangling of the bells on the door and leaped out of the chair. After deftly dodging a tall book display, she held out her arms. “Bethie! You made it!”

  Beth ran into her mother’s embrace, dragging Arlo behind her as he yipped in protest. Releasing the hug with a final squeeze, she said. “It was an easy trip. Arlo was exhilarated by my arrival and the unexpected stroll through the neighborhood.” She bent down to stroke his head. “Right buddy?” Arlo wagged, enjoying the attention.

  “I’m sure he missed you. He likes any excuse to get outside and visit with his favorite neighborhood squirrel friends.”

  “They seem to have a rather antagonistic relationship.”

  Margaret Connolly laughed heartily, her short gray curly hair bobbing around her head and swishing against her chin “I can’t argue with that. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me too. I missed you.” Beth looked at the book displ
ay. “New mysteries?”

  “Yes. I just got in the latest Sue Grafton. She’s up to L now. I think M is coming out later this year.”

  “Ooh, and the new Harry Bosch novel! By Michael Connolly, my favorite twin-surnamed author.”

  Margaret smiled. “Yes. I had a feeling you’d be excited about that. Immersing yourself in a little Michael Connolly will make you feel better. No matter what has happened in your life, it’s probably better than what’s going on with poor Harry these days.”

  Beth grinned. “Oh, don’t reveal anything, Mom. I want to be surprised.” She picked up another book. “E.L. Jakes?”

  “Oh, you’d hate her stuff. It’s just awful, but people buy it anyway.”

  “Okay.” Beth picked up another book. “Here’s another new one.”

  “Not really. It’s probably only new to you, dear. He’s written five mysteries so far. I am completely addicted to them. In fact, I’ve got the paperbacks of a couple at home; I’ll find them for you. The main character has an unusual personality. He starts out as a cop and ends up going into detective work. There’s an interesting woman and several other characters that reappear too. They’re great reads.”

  Beth read the back flap of the book. “Hmm. A.J. Emerson. I’ve never heard of this person, but it certainly seems initials are in vogue for authors. Sure, I’ll try them if you think they’re good. It feels a little odd having no responsibilities, so a big pile of new reading material would be welcome. I’ll probably need to do a lot of reading to distract myself.” She looked up from the book. “I can also help out here if you want. Maybe sort and price some books? Since Janice quit, I know you’ve had trouble finding someone.”

  Margaret waved her hand toward the front window. “Oh, it’s just the time of year. Everyone wants to ski. They don’t want to work. I’m sure I’ll find someone in the next month or so. It’s just the slow season. You know we go through this every year. But the Chamber of Commerce has an idea for a Mardi Gras celebration to help stir up a little tourist activity and maybe even get locals to come out of hibernation and shop. That’s not until next year though. It would be nice if it works, since the last few weeks have been slow.”

  “I can sympathize with the idea of hibernation. It’s cold.”

  “Beth, you promised not to whine.”

  “I’m sorry. That slipped out. I’ll try to curtail my weather-related grousing.”

  Margaret pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. “After I close the store, I’m going to take a few books down to Mrs. Oliphant. Her gout is bothering her so she hasn’t been able to come in, but she called and wanted a few of these new books after I mentioned them. She was so excited, she paid for them over the phone. I told her I’d drop them by her house on my way home.”

  “Okay. Arlo and I will be waiting for you. I’ll see what I can come up with for dinner.”

  “Thanks, dear. I’ll see you later.”

  Beth walked back to the house and set to work chopping vegetables for a soup. While it was simmering, she looked around and found an old paperback that she may or may not have already read. She was settling into a nice bout of power-reading when Arlo began barking hysterically at a siren outside. “Arlo, be quiet!” The dog began to howl and race around the room. “Good grief, Arlo. Stop it!”

  Beth got up as the siren wailed by. The neighborhood and Alpine Grove in general was normally so quiet, it was odd to have emergency vehicles so close. She peered out the window, but it was gone. Arlo settled back down and laid in front of the sofa looking offended. Beth sat down and stroked his back. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t realize sirens were such an issue for you.”

  Later, the phone rang and Beth had an awkward moment of confusion. This wasn’t her home anymore. Should she answer it? Pretend no one was home and let the answering machine pick up? Shrugging, she figured she’d ask her mother about the phone protocol later. The sound of her mother’s voice encouraged the caller to leave a message. Oops, it could be personal and now she was going to hear whatever the caller might say. Sorry, Mom.

  Her mother’s voice came sharply from the machine, “Beth, I know you’re there. Pick up!”

  Beth scrambled off the couch, grabbed the phone, and shut off the machine. “I’m sorry, Mom. I wasn’t sure if I should answer.”

  “I need you to pick me up later.”

  “Okay. Are you still at Mrs. Oliphant’s house?”

  “No, I’m at the hospital. I fell. They are going to do x-rays, and I’m waiting now.”

  “What happened? Are you hurt?” Beth gripped her necklace.

  Margaret cleared her throat. “This is embarrassing. I walked down there and I didn’t see an ice patch and I fell on my…well…my butt. They think I may have possibly broken my tailbone.”

  “Your coccyx?”

  “Yes. It was painful, but I’m on some rather lovely medication now, so I’m very relaxed.”

  “I’ll be right there, Mom!” Beth ran to the kitchen and turned the heat off for the soup on the stove, gathered up her purse, stowed Arlo in the kitchen behind his gate, and ran out the door. Please be okay, Mom!

  Beth brought her mother home from the hospital and helped her into bed. She set the bottles of pills and instructions from the doctors on the dresser. “Are you sure you feel all right? Do you want anything to eat? The soup is still sitting on the stove, and I can heat it up for you.”

  “No dear, I’m just tired. But we need to talk about the store. Are you sure you can handle it? I know dealing with customers isn’t fun for you. Most things are the same, although I did get a new computer.”

  “I’ll be okay.” Beth pushed some books aside on a settee near the bed and sat down. “The computer won’t be a problem. Is there a password I should know?”

  “My initials and then Arlo. All lower case.”

  “I hate leaving you by yourself. Will you be okay here with Arlo?”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. My dog-walker Cindy will be by for his walk, so it will be just like any other day for him, except he’ll have me around to keep him company. And Jill is going to stop by on her lunch hour to check on me. It’s such a relief that you’re here to take care of the store.”

  Beth moved a book that was digging into her back and looked at it. “I’m glad you feel that way.” She’d do pretty much anything to help her mother. Even subject herself to the world of retail again.

  “Beth, there is one thing. I know we’ve talked about this before, but you need to make an effort to make customers feel comfortable.”

  Beth tried not to roll her eyes. “Really, Mom? Do we have to have this conversation again?”

  “Yes, dear. You need to try to relax. Take deep breaths. You know when you are upset, nervous, or self-conscious, you start to sound like a robot.”

  “That’s an unflattering way to describe my use of language. I prefer to think of it as being precise and taking advantage of my comprehensive vocabulary, instead of blubbering like an idiot.”

  “Maybe. But using ten-dollar words can confuse people and make them feel uncomfortable. People who are uncomfortable don’t buy books. I know you don’t like social situations and dealing with people you don’t know, but please just try to use smaller words, okay?”

  “I’m not in high school anymore. I deal—or I dealt—with people every day at work.”

  “I know, but many of them are engineers and PhDs who use lots of technical jargon and acronyms.”

  Beth waved the paperback in her hand toward the window. “I think you may have just insulted your customers’ intelligence.”

  “I don’t mean it like that. My customers are wonderful. Just try to be friendly, dear. Sometimes I know you still feel like a painfully shy little girl inside, but just do what you can to make customers feel welcome. They really aren’t staring at you or judging you. I promise. They just want something good to read.”

  “Fine. I’ll talk like a Valley Girl and you know, tell them that all the books at the store are all just like to
tally awesome.”

  “Don’t be snotty, dear. I’m sure working at the store will all come back to you. Just be nice to people, and you’ll do fine.”

  “Gag me.” Beth thumped the book back onto the pile next to her. Dealing with customers again was going to be nerve-wracking. At least it was the slow season. Maybe they’d all stay home.

  The next morning, Beth got ready to go to the store. She gave her mom her pills and helped her get set up on the sofa downstairs with lots of magazines and books to read.

  “Stop hovering, Beth. You’ll be late opening the store.”

  Beth handed her a throw pillow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” Margaret reached over to pet Arlo, who had settled in next to her. “Please go away.”

  “All right, but call me if you need anything.”

  “I will. Good luck. Sell lots of books.”

  Beth left the house and walked down to the store, her mom’s gigantic key ring jangling in her coat pocket. It was a pretty, sunny day and the snow along the sidewalk glistened in the morning light.

  All this good weather might bring out lots of voracious readers and then she’d have to make small talk. What could she talk about? One: the weather. Two: books. Three? Was she really out of material after two topics? Beth fiddled with the keys in her pocket to give her trembling fingers something else to do. She’d done this before. It would be okay. Mom always said customers were just people. Of course, that was exactly the problem.

  At least Beth could get her hands on those new books her mother had mentioned. She had years of experience in surreptitiously reading new books and making sure they stayed pristine, so they could still be sold as new. That new Michael Connolly novel looked excellent.

  According to Margaret, the back room was still full of used-book inventory that needed to be sorted, priced, and shelved. Mom’s forays out to the inevitable end-of-season garage sales last fall had been productive, so the storage room was bursting with books. Mom would be thrilled if Beth could help her get caught up with the sorting project. Beth might be a terrible salesperson, but at least she could try to be useful.