Damon, Lee (5 page)

It broke the tension in Kitt, and she laughed at Midge's disgruntled expression. "Oh, but consider—if he could read your mind, then you could read his, and he'd be just as hard put to 'get away with anything' as you would!"

"Does it work that way with you and O'Mara?"

"I'm not quite sure," Kitt answered thoughtfully. "It seemed to be mutual this morning, but... I guess we'll have to wait and see how it really works. Uh-oh, here comes business. Look, why don't you take care of them while I get this mess cleaned up off the floor? We'll get back to figuring out orders after they go."

However, it turned out to be a busy afternoon, with a steady influx of customers until just after three o'clock. Kitt and Midge barely had time to snatch fifteen minutes in turn to run upstairs and gulp a tuna sandwich. When she had a spare moment to think about it, Kitt decided she was just as glad to be too busy to dwell on O'Mara's reentry into her life and what it might mean. She needed time to assimilate this new factor in what she had envisioned as a peaceful, rewarding, undemanding existence.

Kitt stood for a few minutes at the sliding glass doors which led out onto a small patio and then two steps down to the backyard. She'd just let Hero out, and she watched him racing around the yard and jumping over the obstacle course Ez had set up for him. In the background, she could hear the hum of talk from the shop. It was strangely soothing. Although she had told Midge that nothing earthshaking had happened, she knew that O'Mara had shaken
her,
and she wondered what the evening would bring. Hearing Midge call, she firmly pushed O'Mara to the back of her mind and went to help a customer choose a cookbook.

Finally, they hit a lull. Only one customer remained, and she seemed perfectly happy to browse by herself through the natural science section. Kitt dropped into Hero's chair while Midge scrambled up onto the high stool by the work counter.

Pushing her hair back with both hands, Kitt groaned a heartfelt, "Plagues and pestilence! Where did they all come from? There must have been thirty people in here."

"Plagues and pestilence?" Midge giggled. "Wherever did you get that expression?"

"Ez. Where else? He talks like that all the time. Well, sometimes, anyway. At least eighty percent of his reading matter is pre-seventeenth century. Sometimes I think he was born out of his time. Can't you just see him charging around on a big white horse rescuing maidens in distress and tossing them across his saddlebow?"

"What... what's a saddlebow?" gasped Midge. "It sounds awfully uncomfortable."

"Beats me. But in all the books I've read, the gallant knight is always parking maidens on it, and none of them seem to object."

"Speaking of which, knights and maidens and stuff," Midge grinned, "a thought occurred to me after the third person asked me today where we kept our romances. We don't have any. At least, not the books they were looking for."

"We don't?" Kitt frowned, mentally reviewing the various sections in the shop. "Hmmm. You're right, we don't, except for some historicals by some of the better-known authors. I remember seeing several of Roberta Gellis's books, and that series by Dorothy Dunnett. Holt, Eden, Whitney, a few others."

"And there's some Danielle Steel and Helen Van Slyke, but not much else for contemporary stuff," Midge added. "Maybe a few more. I haven't really checked that closely."

"Neither have I, yet. There's been so much to do this week that I've really only taken a quick look at what's in each section. I just assumed that romances were in with the paperback fiction." Kitt stood up and started around the desk toward the far wall. "Let's go see exactly what we have got."

The Baxters had designed the shop to look very spacious and open and yet provide room for a large stock with plenty of space for people to move about. On her first visit to the shop, Kitt had been impressed with the efficiency and convenience of its layout. Standing to one side of the door, out of the way of traffic, she had examined the arrangement of the shop with a critical eye. On the left, in the space in front of the bay window, was an island with an assortment of new hardcover fiction; new hardcover nonfiction was arrayed on wall-hung racks beyond the island. The rest of the wallspace on that side, as far as the working area, contained a comprehensive collection of material about Maine, the coastal area, the local area and New England in general. A round table and comfortable chairs were set out in front of this section.

Beyond the working area and desk was a large children's section—two low sets of bookcases built out from the wall at right angles, about twelve feet apart, with low tables and chairs placed in the open area. The space between the children's section and the back wall was enclosed to form a receiving/storage room.

To the right of the door, by the other bay window, was a small island which, together with the first section of wall shelves, contained books, pamphlets and other material relating to the current window displays. The remaining length of the shop on the right side was divided into sections by a series of five-foot-high by twelve-foot-long bookshelves set at right angles to the wall and spaced ten feet apart. It was a practical arrangement which provided a great deal of shelf space while retaining a feeling of openness. The stretch of wallspace above the bookshelves was decorated with samples of posters and art prints which were for sale. Kitt had found the basic arrangement of the shop very much to her taste and had, as yet, made few changes.

Moving slowly along the shelves of the paperback fiction section, Kitt and Midge scanned titles and authors, pulling out a "slotted in" book now and then to check the cover art for one of the distinctive "romance" styles.

"You're right," Kitt said finally. "There's not much here except for the well-known authors. Wonder why. After all, the sexy historicals and the monthly lines are among the biggest-selling paperbacks these days. In the shop where I used to work, we couldn't keep the stuff in stock." She turned to Midge inquiringly. "Do you have any idea why the Baxters weren't stocking more romances?"

"I think they tended to be very conventional in their personal taste. If you notice, there's hardly any light fiction in the hardcovers, although I think they stocked a bit more in the summers."

"Well, I guess there is a tendency to let your own taste influence what you buy, but you have to overcome that. I couldn't expect to make a go of this if I bought only what I liked to read. I'd have thought that customers would have been asking for light reading, especially the summer people." Kitt swung slowly around in a half-circle, hands on hips, scanning the shelves again. "I don't even see any Gallen books. Or Harlequins or Silhouettes or Candlelights. Hmmmm. And the only Regencies are a few by Georgette Heyer. She's very good, of course, but there are some other excellent authors in that genre now."

Midge leaned against the end of one set of shelves, watching the graceful swing of Kitt's slender form with ruefully envious eyes. She sighed regretfully and brought her mind back to the problem at hand. "I think most of the year-round customers just accepted the fact that they'd have to pick up romances elsewhere. A lot of women go to the big bookstore opposite the Maine Mall in Portland. It's not that far up the Turnpike, and 'most everyone shops there at least a couple times a month. There's also a store in Kennebunk that carries a lot of current paperbacks. The summer people probably take what they can find. It wouldn't be worth special-ordering things for such a short time."

"I think we'll just see if we can change all that," Kitt said determinedly. "Why should I encourage local people to buy their books in Portland? Especially the lines that come out every month. That's a lot of books. Twelve Harlequins, eight Candlelights, six Silhouettes, four Gallens, three Second Chances. There are several others, but those are the best sellers, and if people buy one line, they'll usually buy the others."

Kitt's eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm and her hair was flying in all directions as she strode lithely across to the pile of publishers' material still on the desk. "Let's see if we can find the forms for May and June for Pocket Books, Dell, Jove— oh, just pull out anything on paperbacks from May on."

"Will there be time to send in orders? May's less than two weeks away."

"No, not for May and maybe not for June. I'm still getting my lines of credit established with the publishers and distributors. But I can take a list and a check down to the distributor's warehouse in Portsmouth and pick up what I need once or twice a month." Kitt flipped quickly through the still unsorted material, pulling out everything pertaining to paperback publishers. "We'd better check off everything on the order forms that we think will sell. Then, we can compare them to the orders that the Baxters put in. I rather think they just ordered the top of the list. We should look over the other special category shelves, or did you take note of what we've got for science fiction, mysteries and adult westerns?"

"I didn't look that closely," answered Midge, ripping open large mailing envelopes and sorting out the contents. "I think there's a good selection of mysteries and science fiction. That was the kind of thing the Baxters considered worthwhile light reading."

"It sells well, that's for sure. So do the new western series, and I don't think I saw any of them." Kitt glanced up as she heard the door open. "Let's shift this stuff over to the work counter. Now that we've got to spread it out, it's taking up too much room here."

Working quickly, Kitt and Midge shifted everything over to the long work counter. From the corner of her eye, Midge saw that the two women who had come in were strolling slowly toward the desk. "Why don't you help them, Kitt, while I finish the routine sorting?" She climbed up onto the high stool so she could reach the countertop more comfortably. "This part is a waste of your time."

"Okay by me," Kitt said. She stepped behind the desk as the women reached it. "Good afternoon. May I help you find something in particular?" Kitt's warm smile brought answering smiles from the two women.

"Good afternoon," said the older woman. "Do you have May Sarton's books? We understand she lives in this area."

"Yes, she does." Kitt moved around the desk and started across the shop. "We have a complete selection of her work... right here. There's a special section for work by local authors."

"Oh, what a good idea!" the younger woman enthused. She looked up at Kitt with interest. "We're new here. We've just bought a summer home at Goose Rocks, and I'd like to find out something about the history of the area."

"I'm new here, too." Kitt laughed. "I've only owned the shop for a week." She waved a hand toward the opposite wall. "We have a very comprehensive selection of books and maps on the area. Why don't you browse through them? Take your time. If you have any questions, Midge could probably help you better than I. She's a native."

"Thank you. I'm sure I can find just what I want from all this."

Kitt walked back toward the desk, glancing at the clock as she went. "Oh, Lordy, it's after four and—"

"Ez!" squeaked Midge.

"What?"

"Ez just drove in. Oh, and I'm a mess!"

Kitt laughed as Midge ran her fingers through her tangled curls and then smoothed down the gold velour, vee-neck shirt which she wore outside her jeans. Remembering, Kitt leaned forward and spoke softly in Midge's ear. "Don't forget. Not a word about O'Mara. We want it to be a surprise."

"Who's O'Mara?" asked Midge with wide-eyed innocence.

"Good girl. Oh, birdlime, now what's he up to?" muttered Kitt, starting around the desk.

Ez stood just inside the door, arms thrown wide, head back. "Magnificent," he intoned in a deep, echoing voice. "It is the most magnificent bookshop I have ever seen. Ladies," he continued, bowing to the two customers and blowing kisses to them, "you are obviously women of rare taste and discernment. If I can be of any assistance whatsoever, you have but to call on me. A delight. Yes, it would be a pure delight to aid you in your search for knowledge and enlightenment."

For a moment, the two women looked at Ez in boggle-eyed amazement, but the gleam in his exotic eyes and his infectious grin soon reduced them to giggles. Kitt stood halfway down the shop, fists on her slim hips, and watched Ez's performance with a critical eye and an indulgent smile. When the

mood struck him, he could be perfectly outrageous, but somehow his sheer size, good looks, abundant charm and untrammeled sense of humor always managed to carry him through his more public performances unarrested, unscathed and unrebuked. Kitt had, on more than one occasion, seen him turn an old prunes-and-pickles harridan into a cooing dove who patted his cheek and called him her "dear boy."

Now that Ez had charmed her customers into quivering jelly, Kitt waited with considerable interest to see what he would do next. A quick look to the side verified that Midge was also waiting with bated breath for the next act. Shifting her gaze back to her twin, Kitt noted that he had managed with typical luck to find a woolen shirt in the exact shade of blue-gray to match his eyes. Those eyes were now glinting with pure devilry as he slowly stalked toward her with arms outstretched.

"A goddess!" It was a muted bellow. The light fixtures trembled perceptibly. "An admirable Amazon! A voluptuous Valkyrie! A magnificent specimen of womanhood who will not crumble and collapse after a little hug." On the last words, Ez flung both arms around Kitt in a bear hug and effortlessly swung her off her feet and spun her around in a circle.

Kitt had long ago learned to move quickly, and she had lifted her arms out of the way as Ez grabbed her and firmly grasped two handfuls of his thick hair. She shook his head back and forth vigorously, kicked him on the shin and yelled in his ear, "Put me down, you idiot, you're cracking my ribs!"

Ez set her on her feet and pulled her hands out of his hair. Turning to his fascinated audience, he mourned, "Can you imagine? My own dear sister, who hasn't seen me for a week; and now," he sobbed, actually managing a tear in his eye, "she won't even let me express my brotherly affection."