Maggie swallowed hard and cleared her throat. She almost said the same thing to him. Although she hadn’t thought it was possible for him to look even better than he did in jeans and his tool belt, here he was in nice tan pants with a blue button-down shirt and tie, looking amazing.

  “Hi, J-Joshua,” Maggie stuttered. “Um, the bookshelf looks good. It really does.”

  “Margaret, you look so…different,” Joshua said as he stared. “I didn’t know, I mean, I saw you in your slip the other night and didn’t think you could look any prettier, but here…”

  “What? No, I…uh…thank you. I think. Thanks, yes. Thank you,” Maggie stuttered, putting her hand to her cheek and feeling the heat of embarrassment warming her palm. “You look very nice, too.”

  For someone who read and had a vocabulary like Webster’s Dictionary, she knew she sounded like a dolt. Joshua was smiling at her obvious discomfort.

  “You know, I looked at the back of this book, and it doesn’t sound half bad,” he said as if reading the back of Manhattan Solstice was a real accomplishment. But Maggie could tell he was trying to be nice.

  “Well, if you read it, tell me if it’s any good,” Maggie replied, hoping he would drop it and maybe go back into the café. She was finding it hard to concentrate and not stare at his broad shoulders and strong, calloused hands.

  “I’ll do that.” He smiled. “I was just about to open the café door, but I haven’t seen the window yet and thought maybe I could get a look at…” He stopped speaking as he walked over to the display.

  There was his father’s highbacked chair with a coffee table in front of it. Maggie had attached some of the new books from wires, hanging them from the exposed pipes that were out of view from the outside window. Some of the older titles were stacked carefully along the floor with the titles facing the street. It looked like a cozy, magical place that was warm and welcoming and maybe just a little eccentric.

  “What? You don’t like it? Well, maybe next time. I’ve never decorated a window, and I thought that…” Maggie babbled more to herself than to Joshua.

  “No. No, Maggie. It’s amazing. I can’t believe you did this.” Joshua smiled when he turned around to face her. “My dad would have loved this.”

  Maggie didn’t know why, but those words brought tears to her eyes. She smiled wide and shrugged.

  “Come on.” Joshua stepped down from the window display, grabbed Maggie by the hand, and pulled her into the café.

  She’d intentionally avoided looking inside. She was afraid she’d like what she saw, and then she’d have to admit that Joshua’s idea was a good one. Why that was a bitter pill to swallow she didn’t know. But as he held her hand and she felt the calluses from all his hard work, a little guilt at how she’d treated him seeped in, especially after she saw how beautiful the place looked.

  It was simple and elegant. No corny images of giant cups of coffee or Andy Warhol–style paintings of coffee beans. Instead, it looked as cozy and inviting as Mr. Whitfield’s apartment just upstairs.

  “So, what do you think?” Joshua asked.

  “It looks…like your dad’s place,” Maggie replied with a wide smile. This time, it was Joshua’s turn to have tears come.

  “I miss him,” Joshua replied.

  “Me too.” Maggie wanted to pat Joshua on the back, maybe even give him a hug. But instead, she continued to hold his hand until she noticed the cuckoo clock hanging on the wall. “Uh-oh. We better get things ready. We’re supposed to open in fifteen minutes.”

  “Right.” Joshua held Maggie’s hand for a few seconds longer before looking down at her. “I think Tammy should be arriving any minute with some food.”

  “Okay. I’m going to go back to the bookshop side,” Maggie replied.

  “I might need your help here,” he said softly.

  “Oh, you never said that.” Maggie nearly froze. The idea of being around people who were drinking and chatting and who might ask her questions about herself or anything at all made her breath catch in her throat.

  “Well, I didn’t think I had to,” Joshua said.

  “Sorry, I work in the bookshop. I don’t work in a café. That’s too much. Nope. I’ll tend the bookshop,” Maggie restated firmly.

  “Margaret, now is no time to be stubborn,” Joshua said.

  “I’m not being stubborn. Stubborn would mean you told me what to do and I refused to do it. You never mentioned me working the café side, ever. So I can’t be stubborn when I was never given an option. Perhaps you assumed too much. That’s more like it,” Maggie said with a serious face.

  “You know, my father said you were peculiar,” Joshua huffed.

  “No, he didn’t.” Maggie put her hands on her hips.

  “He did. He said you were pretty and smart and the most peculiar girl he’d ever met. Boy, was he right.” Joshua shook his head.

  “Well, he told me a few things about you too. But I’m not so rude as to repeat them. But you’d be shocked,” Maggie replied before lifting her chin defiantly. She’d heard nothing but wonderful things about Joshua from his dad, but that didn’t make his request any more acceptable.

  Without giving him a chance to say anything more, she turned her back and hustled through the door that joined the two places. She’d made some plans of her own for the big event and walked over to a couple of antique side tables that had been covered with books for so long she was sure Mr. Whitfield had forgotten they were even there. With a little furniture polish she’d brought from home, she had cleaned them up and covered them so no one would see anything until the big unveiling.

  She saw a couple people outside peeking in past her window display. She had no desire to make eye contact with anyone but instead busied herself with her additional displays of books.

  It wasn’t long before Maggie heard Tammy giggling and chatting with Joshua in the café. Another fellow arrived with a couple cases of wine that Maggie heard clanking together as the white wines were thrust into a sink full of ice and the reds were lined along the counter. The smell of strong coffee brewing came into the bookshop, and soft classical music began to play over speakers Maggie hadn’t even known had been installed.

  It was as if the whole place was alive in a way it never had been before. Maggie thought of Mr. Whitfield and wished he could have been there with her. She could have sat with him, enjoying a cup of coffee and discussing another book or idea, while the world passed through the shop without noticing them. But she was quickly snapped out of her daydream.

  “Oh, I’ve been dying to read this book!” Two women appeared in the doorway. One of them quickly snatched a copy of Manhattan Solstice from the shelves Joshua had made.

  “Me too. I’ve heard it’s really good.”

  Maggie slipped behind the counter. She took her seat on the barstool and waited for the ladies to finish perusing the store. They did purchase their books, and just as they left, another couple of people came in. They grabbed copies of Autumn at Dawn and some thriller titled The Persistent.

  When she was alone, Maggie pulled out her copy of The Streets of Laredo and tried to read, but the bustle of customers was too distracting. It wasn’t that she minded working; she didn’t. But she hated the small talk and wished she could put up a sign that read Please don’t feed or talk to the staff.

  “Mags!” Officer Gary Brookes walked in, looking as sharp and official as always in his uniform. When he saw Maggie in her red dress with her hair up, he stopped for a minute and stared. After clearing his throat, he walked over to her.

  “Hi, Gary,” Maggie said as she handed the latest customer their book in a thin, crinkly brown paper bag.

  “I never thought I’d see the day you had people in here,” Gary said quietly as he leaned on the counter. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I have no choice,” she confided and wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something bad.

  “You look really nice,” Gary said. “And if I can give you some advice…”

  “No, you can’t,” Maggie replied with a serious look on her face.

  “Be yourself. You’d be surprised at how many people will think that’s just fine.” Gary winked. He stood up straight and was about to walk away when Maggie tugged at his sleeve.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” she said. When Gary smiled broadly with a twinkle in his eye, Maggie shook her head. “It’s serious.”

  “Let me guess: Ruby Sinclair was at your house hopscotching on the square blocks of your sidewalk and tapping each porch lamp ten times.” Gary smirked.

  “Very funny! Gary, you’re a hoot! Why aren’t you married again?” Maggie pretended to laugh then became very serious as she told him about Toby. “He was in here, and he practically admitted he was here to take Mr. Whitfield’s old books. I’m just letting you know. It’s another person who might have been here when Bo was killed.”

  “What is this sudden interest in solving crimes?” Gary asked as he finished writing down the details of what Maggie had just said. “Are you trying to take an interest in what I do?”

  “Are you nuts? I really don’t have any interest in what you do. I’m just trying to be helpful.” Maggie shook her head. She always could talk to Gary. Maybe it was because they had gone to high school together, or maybe it was because he looked so honest and brave in his uniform. Either way, he never seemed to be put off by her introverted nature.

  “Okay, I’ll go talk to Mr. Tobias Hodgkin. He’s at the Scuccis’ B&B?” Gary confirmed.

  “If he hasn’t tried to leave.”

  “He won’t be going anywhere. It doesn’t look like it’s raining all that hard, but the bridges are about five feet underwater at the low ends. We’ve got patrol cars out there to make sure people turn around,” Gary replied.

  Maggie let out a deep breath and grimaced as more people came in from the café with plastic cups of red wine in their hands.

  “If you spill that on a book, you’ve bought it.” She pointed rudely.

  The customers nodded and whispered to each other before turning around and going back into the café.

  “That-a-girl. Way to make the customers feel at home,” Gary teased.

  “Hey, they could spill everything all over the books in the window. It’s the classics that take up all the other shelves and tables that I’m worried about,” Maggie huffed.

  “Speaking of which, who did your window display? It’s really cool. In fact, you’re giving the beauty-supply store down the street a real run for their money. You know, there is always a window competition when the weather gets colder,” Gary said as he started to walk back toward the café door.

  “I did it,” Maggie shouted back, a hint of a smile tickling at the corner of her mouth.

  “I thought so. It looks like you,” Gary replied. “Classy. Old-fashioned. Maybe a little mysterious.” He winked before he left, making Maggie blush and twist her lips to the left side of her face.

  Maggie had been enjoying herself as she listened to the music alone. As she studied the bookshop, she thought the place could use a good dusting and vacuuming. Mr. Whitfield’s cubby had barely been cleaned out. There were more than twenty years’ worth of papers and ledgers and things back there that Joshua had said to leave for the time being. If she cleaned that, there would be room for more books. She might be able to have a special place designated for the really old classics that were worth something. Keep them under lock and key. Maybe Joshua could build a better bookcase for them.

  The thought of having him in the bookshop with her, hammering away and working up a sweat, was too much to contemplate. He’d probably want to chitchat, or he’d have that horrible construction-worker rock playing on the radio. She’d lose her mind.

  “Why are you even thinking about him?” Maggie muttered to herself. “He’s…not your type at all. You don’t even know what your type is, but it isn’t him.”

  Throughout the evening, Maggie couldn’t get a single page read, because every time she settled into her book, she was distracted by customers who wanted to buy not just the bestsellers but some of the other books on the shelves. Maggie had had no idea that so many people in Fair Haven had an interest in books. Not just the classics but history and science and even a couple of old legal books that Mr. Whitfield had stashed on the shelves were on their way to new homes. Part of her felt a little guilty about how judgmental she’d been toward everyone. Of course, purchasing one book after a couple glasses of wine didn’t make a person a dedicated bibliophile. Nor did it make Maggie want to rush right out and give everyone a hug for their support. But the experience made her feel she might have something to offer them if they were to come looking for another book in the future.

  Just as she was feeling more comfortable in her own skin, Maggie heard the voice that she’d heard at Spotlight Boutique just a short while ago. Samantha Toonsley had arrived. Maggie could not remain in her seat and peeked casually around the bookcase Joshua had built leading into the café.

  Chapter 18

  People were sitting on the eclectic furniture that made the space feel more like a clubhouse than a café. Everyone was smiling and talking, and small dainties of food were being passed around. The bartender was a young fellow who was chatting with Tammy as they both did what they could to keep up with the demand of people wanting refills of food and drink. Maggie stuck her neck a little too far out and was spotted by Wilma and the gang of tellers from the bank. She gasped when they squealed her name.

  “We were wondering where you were,” Wilma said as she hurried toward Maggie on the bookstore side of the business. All the women were still in their work clothes. But it was obvious they’d enjoyed a couple of drinks already. They were giggling and chatting like a flock of starlings. Wilma had taken her shoes off and was walking around in her nylons.

  “I’m tending the bookshop. People are buying books, so I’m staying here,” Maggie said as she pushed up her glasses and tried to back into her alcove of protection behind the small counter.

  “We can’t get over the place. It all looks so different. Well, the bookstore looks the same. But that café is amazing. You’d never know it was a dumpy abandoned building just a few weeks ago,” Wilma said with a slight slur hanging on to the edge of her words. “And the murderer? He’s as charming as ever. I only talked to him for a second. He’s divorced, you know. His ex-wife will not be coming to the opening.”

  “Probably because of the weather,” Maggie replied.

  That answer hadn’t crossed Wilma’s mind. The way she looked at Maggie was as if she’d just told her that there was not only no more wine but she was cut off throughout all of Fair Haven.

  “No. Probably because he was rough with her, or maybe he cheated on her. I’ll bet he cheated. He looks like the kind of guy who could have a different woman every week,” Wilma said, making the other women squeal at the juicy prospect.

  “You don’t know that. And you might want to keep your voice down. That’s how rumors start. Joshua has enough on his plate,” Maggie defended him.

  “You certainly are defensive,” Joyce snapped.

  “He’s my boss. I need this job. I don’t think making things up benefits anyone involved,” Maggie said. She looked around at the books, wishing one of them could jump off its shelf and offer some kind of rebuttal to these women.

  “I didn’t mean anything, Maggie.” Wilma cleared her throat and managed to look sad. “I’m just having a good time. You are right. I won’t say another word.” She pretended to zip her lip and then lock it and throw away the key.

  “Right,” Maggie replied.

  “And look at you. The building isn’t the only thing to get a new look. I’ve never seen you all dressed up. You look amazing,” Wilma said. The other women from the bank concurred, except for Joyce, who looked Maggie up and down before taking a sip of her wine and looking away.

  “Thanks,” Maggie replied and nervously smoothed out the front of her dress.

  “Lucky no one thinks Joshua Whitfield looks like a killer,” Joyce replied.

  “Maybe they do, but who cares. He’s not out to kill me.” Wilma laughed, and the other tellers followed suit.

  “He didn’t kill anyone, Joyce,” Maggie said quietly.

  “Technically. But Gary Brookes told me that there were some new developments. You’re not the only one who talks to the police, Maggie,” Joyce snapped.

  Maggie furrowed her brows and looked behind her as if the sharp retort and rude attitude had to have been directed at someone else named Maggie and not at her.

  “Calm down, Joyce. Maggie isn’t trying to steal Gary Brookes away from you,” Wilma said, making Joyce glare at her and clench her jaw. “She saw Gary talking to you and nearly had a fit.”

  “I did not,” Joyce snapped.

  “Gary and I went to high school together. And we talk sometimes. I mean, two guys died in this place within the last couple of weeks. I sort of had to talk to him,” Maggie muttered as she studied Joyce’s expression.

  Joyce continued to sip her wine and look in any direction but Maggie’s.

  “See, Joyce? I told you they were just friends,” Wilma said and patted Joyce on the arm. “Besides, if Gary knew you were interested in him, he might pay a little more attention to you.”

  “Drop it, Wilma,” Joyce hissed.

  “I’m just saying that you sometimes have to lead that horse to water in order to make it drink,” Wilma kept prattling on.

  “I don’t think I need your help, Wilma. Remember, I’m the manager at the bank. You are just a teller.” Joyce huffed like a schoolyard bully.

  All the other women gasped, but Wilma just shrugged and diverted her attention back to Maggie.

  “You really do look pretty tonight. Have you talked with Josh?” Wilma asked.