life private.
Trixie ignored Skye’s command for silence. “You told Simon.”
“Shut up.” Skye resisted an urge to put her hand over Trixie’s mouth and instead dragged her behind a display of feminine products. “I thought you forgave me.”
“That was when I thought you hadn’t told anyone else.”
“As I explained to you, I only informed him before I accepted because of . . . Well, you know.” She was uncomfortable discussing Simon’s vow to win her back.
“Still.” Trixie sniffed. “You
“I’m so sorry.” Skye swallowed, touched by Trixie’s pain. “What else can I say?”
“You can say that you’ll help me save Tales and Treats.”
“Of course I will. I don’t want it to close any more than you do.” Skye hugged Trixie. “Pick me up at two for the grand opening.”
Skye was waiting on her front porch when Trixie’s car roared into the driveway. Skye checked to make sure the front door was locked, then walked down the steps and climbed into the passenger seat. A lot of people in Scumble River didn’t bother with deadbolts, but Skye had had a few too many close calls with deranged killers to leave her door open.
As Skye was buckling her seat belt, Trixie said, “I figured out how to find some dirt on Pru. I’ll use the Internet.”
“Really?” Skye asked, tucking her purse behind her legs. “How?”
“I’ll Google her.”
“Oh.” Skye had finally begun accepting that the computer was a viable tool, but she still wasn’t comfortable with some of its features, like search engines. “Every time I try to find information that way, I get a zillion hits and end up wasting more time than if I had just looked it up in a book.”
Trixie flung the Civic into gear and stepped on the gas. Her prized Mustang convertible was long gone, sold to pay off a debt, but she still drove as if she were racing on the NASCAR circuit. Skye gripped the dashboard as Trixie backed out of the driveway without even glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Oh, stop flinching.” Trixie slowed to a modest sixty. “You know I’m a good driver.”
“How about all those tickets you’ve gotten?”
“The speed limits are ridiculous.” Trixie tossed her head. “I’ve never been in an accident.”
The constant acceleration and braking were making Skye motion sick, and she closed her eyes. Finally, the car stopped and Skye looked around. Trixie had parked the Honda nearly half a mile from the bookstore. “Can’t you get any closer? At this rate we could have walked from my house.”
“I circled twice.” Trixie checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror. “All the parking spots are filled with your cousin’s used-car inventory.”
“Shoot.” Skye got out of the Civic and tugged her black jeans into place. “I hope that doesn’t keep people away.”
“There was quite a crowd by the entrance, so I think today it’ll be okay. During normal business hours, when they aren’t giving away free refreshments, it might be a different story.” Trixie linked an arm with Skye’s, and they headed toward the shop. “Anyway, walking is good for you.”
“If that’s true, why does the mailman look like Jabba the Hutt?”
“You are so not funny.” Trixie snickered. A few minutes later, she said, “Look.”
“At what?” They were a block away from Tales and Treats, and all Skye could see was that the half dozen wrought-iron tables and chairs arranged in front of the large front window were fully occupied. “You knew it would be packed.”
“Not that.” Trixie pointed to the entrance. “That.”
“Crap.” Skye hadn’t expected Pru to rally her troops so soon, but a small group of women holding protest signs was marching in a circle in front of the store’s entrance.
“Get a load of Pru’s Crew,” Trixie hissed.
“Yeah, but where’s their leader?” Skye asked.
As Trixie lifted her hands in puzzlement, one of the women thrust a leaflet into it. “Have you found Jesus Christ?” The picketer was a young blonde with long straight hair held back with a cornflower blue headband.
“Yes.” Trixie crumpled the flyer and deliberately dropped it on the ground. “He was behind the sofa the whole time.”
“If you’re a good Christian, you won’t go in,” the blonde persisted.
Skye gripped her friend’s arm, not sure what Trixie would do, but before she could say anything, an older woman with snow-white hair and a face that looked like a dried apple joined the first and said, “Now, dearies, just turn around and go home. I’m sure sweet girls like you have no idea this place is a den of iniquity.”
“The hell we don’t.” Trixie narrowed her eyes. “Censorship is the real evil.”
While Trixie was arguing with the protesters, Skye read the various protest signs. ROMANCES ROT YOUR BRAIN. SCIENCE FICTION IS THE WORK OF THE DEVIL. DO YOU WANT YOUR DAUGHTER READING PORN? STICK TO JANE AUSTEN AND JULES VERNE.
Skye didn’t catch what was said, but suddenly the Alice in Wonderland look-alike slapped Trixie in the face.
“That was assault!” Skye moved in front of her friend. “Which means if all of you don’t get out of our way, I’m calling the police.”
“Just try it!” Alice screamed.
The protesters linked arms and chanted, “No cash for this trash.”
The picketers formed a circle around Skye and Trixie when they attempted to walk into the store. Skye blew out an irritated breath, then grabbed her cell phone from her purse, but before she could dial, two of the male demonstrators pinned her arms to her sides. Trixie seized the waist of one of the men, but another guy took hold of Trixie’s shoulders.
Just as Skye was wondering if they would end up forming the world’s record for a human chain, a long- legged, middle-aged redhead whom Skye knew all too well, dressed in hot pink capris, a matching spandex halter, and stilettos, barreled into the fray. She wielded her huge magenta pocketbook like a giant flyswatter, whacking protesters aside as if they were mosquitoes. A sturdily built teenage girl wearing cropped camo cargo pants, a white T-shirt, and flip-flops was right behind her swinging a backpack with the same precision.
“How can you do this?” the dried-apple-faced woman sobbed as the demonstrators scattered. “Aren’t you concerned about the morals of your community?”
“I used to care about stuff like that,” the redhead said, raising a perfectly plucked brow, “but I take a pill for that now.”
Once Skye had stopped laughing, she thanked her rescuers, then turned to the redhead. “Bunny, what are you doing here?”
Bunny Reid, aka Skye’s ex-boyfriend’s mother, was a former Las Vegas dancer with a penchant for clothes from Victoria’s Secret and men who broke her heart. She was the last person Skye would have expected to see at a bookstore.
Bunny enveloped her in an Obsession-scented hug. “Frannie talked me into it.” Bunny was the manager of the local bowling alley, which her son owned and where Frannie Ryan, the teenager with the backpack, worked part- time. “She’s got me hooked on those Harlequin romances. Those hot ones are better than a copy of
“Do you like those, Frannie?” Frannie was one of Skye’s favorite former students. They were extremely close, and Skye was surprised the teen hadn’t mentioned her plans to attend the Tales and Treats grand opening.
“No.” Frannie shook her head. “But I remembered you saying that in order to get people to read, it’s important to give them books that will interest them, not what you think they
Skye hadn’t meant to embarrass the girl and was trying to think of a way to change the subject when Trixie came to her rescue by asking, “How did you get such a good parking spot, Bunny?” She looked pointedly at an old
