Page 18 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

Eudora

Eudora could not believe she’d missed the opening day for Leah Powell’s new bookstore.

After all, she was the one who sent Luke Nickerson to help that poor girl to begin with.

As it turned out, Leah had not recognized her the day she showed up and poked her head in the door, but that was perfectly fine with Eudora—better, even.

She didn’t want to get into any discussion about their old high school, where Eudora had been a guidance counselor.

Not after what happened with Shelby Smalls and Eudora’s swift retirement thereafter.

Shelby had been sent to Eudora for help, but despite her due diligence Eudora had not uncovered what was going on with the poor girl.

It did not seem to be anything at home. They could not pinpoint anything at school.

What Eudora did was invite her in to her office every week for lunch.

It didn’t matter that she mostly doodled or sketched the entirety of those lunches.

Eudora was happy to talk. Eventually, her patience paid off and it was Eudora’s chance to listen.

Shelby talked about her golden retriever at home.

About her hope to go to art school. Once she mentioned a boy she had a crush on.

For a brief while Eudora felt that Shelby seemed lighter and more relaxed, that perhaps Eudora was making a difference.

Shelby began showing up unannounced. Sometimes she just poked her head in to say hello.

Sometimes she even shared a drawing she was working on in that notepad of hers.

Never once, however, did Shelby give away the source of her suffering.

It was another girl in her class, named Anna Meyer.

Anna was the kind of bully that even the most tuned-in teacher might overlook.

She was unremarkable academically and socially, an average student who blended into the backdrop of the high school hallways and classrooms with no overt signs of inappropriate behavior.

That was because Anna Meyer conducted all of it online.

What later came to light was a smear campaign that would make Hollywood publicity firms shudder.

All because Anna’s boyfriend had taken a liking to shy, quiet Shelby one evening at a party.

The resulting cyberbullying involved rumors, social media attacks, and manipulated photos of a pornographic nature that circulated the phones and communications of just about every student at the high school.

Right beneath Eudora’s and the administration’s noses, Shelby Smalls was tormented for months.

Until one morning when her mother found her lying in the bathroom beside an empty bottle of pills.

Though the ambulance got her to the ER in time, where Shelby was intubated and put on a ventilator, she never returned to school.

Afterward, she was transferred to a psychiatric facility, and much later, her family moved quickly and quietly out of the area, leaving only the lawsuits they filed in their wake.

It didn’t matter that Eudora was not found to be liable in any way.

She felt the guilt in her veins. It haunted her in her sleep.

Each day she went to school and passed Shelby’s locker, Eudora felt a panic grip her chest. Shelby had trusted her.

She was the one person the young woman had turned to.

And Eudora had failed her. There was nothing she could do but quit.

While Eudora had long suffered the tourist-filled summers in Chatham, since her departure from the high school she now took comfort in them on the rare occasion she left the house.

It was easier to be among strangers. Eudora could get lost in the crowds, just another face in line at the market or the pharmacy.

None of the tourists recognized her as the counselor who testified in the cyberbullying trial that made all the local and Boston news that fateful summer.

Yesterday, however, she’d felt pulled to the bookstore opening.

She’d even marked the date on her calendar in red marker.

Something about this new shop in the old captain’s house had captured a little piece of her heart.

For the first time in a long time, Eudora felt reconnected to her little community.

When it came time to go, however, there was her anxiety waiting for her at the front door.

It had turned into a full-blown panic attack that caused her to take to her bed for the rest of the day.

Today was a new day. She would not allow her anxiety to keep her home again. Alfred danced about her feet when she dangled his leash.

Twenty minutes later, (because Alfred had to sniff every telephone pole, mailbox, and shrub) they climbed the bookstore’s front steps.

She was tickled to see they’d been shorn up and freshly painted.

That Luke: she’d known he would take the job.

It wasn’t easy to turn down someone you grew up with in a small town.

To her delight, the front door was painted a lovely coastal blue.

Eudora pushed it open, met instantly by a feast for the senses.

Everywhere she turned the bright covers of book jackets faced her, from tabletops and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and artfully arranged stacks on little curio tables.

It was like drifting into a book lover’s paradise and someone’s cozy coastal living room, all at the same time.

Eudora stood in the doorway with Alfred, completely forgetting the bouquet of dahlias she’d picked from her front garden and tied with a raffia bow that morning.

All throughout the lovingly appointed space were people: people reading in armchairs, people gazing up at shelves, people scrutinizing the backs of paperbacks or picking through baskets of vintage wallpaper bookmarks with tiny seashells strung to their tops with silk ribbon (how clever!).

It was not crowded, but satisfyingly busy, and what Eudora loved most was that everyone was so focused on their browsing that the only sound was the tinkle of soft music and the occasional murmur of satisfaction when a reader met a good title.

“Welcome!” A young man in a pink button-down sailed out from behind the antique sideboard she was pleased to see was being used as a checkout counter. “My name is Brad. What beautiful flowers!”

Friendly, not pushy, she decided. Eudora smiled appreciatively back at him. “These are for the owner,” she said, holding out the flowers. A low rumble at the end of her leash reminded her; she’d nearly forgotten all about Alfred! “Oh dear. Is it alright if he comes in?”

Brad looked adoringly at Alfred who showed one tiny white tooth in return, then stepped back. “Our contractor’s dog comes in all the time.”

Ah! “Yes, you must mean Luke.”

“You know him?” Brad leaned in. He wanted details, she could tell.

“Small town.” She would not take credit for sending him over.

“You must be local.” He winked, conspiratorially. “We have to stick together.”

“You live in town, too?” She tried to hide the fact it gave her a start. Eudora did not recognize him from high school, but from the looks of him he would’ve graduated about the time she retired.

“My grandmother does. I visit her every summer.” He glanced about the shop. “Let me find Leah for you.”

While she waited, Eudora looked around. Whatever coffee they were serving smelled divine, and she had to stop herself from getting a cup. She’d had her fill that day; too much caffeine had led to some rather unpleasant online interactions with people looking to unload their dogs. Alas.

Leah Powell came out of a rear door and headed for Eudora, a light of recognition on her face.

“I owe you a tremendous thank you!” she said, happily.

“I have to admit, Luke came by before I called him, but you were right. We needed help.” She looked about the store.

“I never would have opened without him.”

Eudora realized Leah only recognized her from the day she’d poked her head in the door. She extended the flowers. “Congratulations on the shop!”

“Thank you! These are just stunning,” Leah said, with far more gratitude than Eudora expected. Yes, her garden was lovely, but they were just a handful of dahlias. She watched as Leah swiped at the corner of her eye. Was she crying?

“It’s been a roller coaster,” Leah admitted. “On opening day, at first no one showed up. But now word is getting out, and everyone has been so appreciative.”

Eudora needed to introduce herself properly. “I’m not sure you remember me,” she said, “but I used to be a guidance counselor at your old high school.”

Leah cocked her head, eyes narrowing. “Mrs. Shipman? Gosh, I’m sorry! I thought you looked familiar the first time you came in.”

“I take it Luke didn’t tell you?”

She smiled knowingly. “He seems good at keeping secrets.”

“Yes, he doesn’t poke his nose in where it doesn’t belong.

I like that about him,” Eudora admitted.

“He’s helped me a lot over the years, first when my husband was sick, and then after.

I figured he might do the same for you.” She gestured about her.

“I just love what you’ve done. You’ve brought the place back to life with books! ”

“Well, I’m glad you came back. I was hoping you would. Please make yourself at home, and feel free to linger.”

Eudora watched as Leah headed to the children’s section.

As much as she hated to leave the house for too long, being here felt different.

Somehow familiar to her. Even Alfred seemed to agree.

She glanced down to see he’d curled up at her feet, on the edge of an area rug.

Perhaps she would stay a while, as Leah suggested.

At the very least, buy a copy of Louise Penny’s latest.

After strolling about and perusing the shelves, Eudora found what she was looking for and was paging through a French pastry book when she noticed a young girl standing behind the checkout counter.

Probably a sophomore in high school, she guessed; very pretty but likely unaware of that fact, based on her body language.

Eudora had seen it too many times in her years in the high school hallways, the slight hunch of shoulders, the shy tuck of a chin when someone spoke to her.

How Eudora wanted to give those girls a hug and tell them not to be so afraid to take up their space in the world!

She headed for the checkout counter. The Sandy Page was so lovely she was tempted to stay longer, but Alfred had made a few grumbles and she didn’t want him wearing out his welcome.

Eudora set both books down on the counter—the profiterole recipe had sold her on the cookbook, too.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the girl asked. Lucy, her nametag read.

“Yes, thank you, Lucy. You must be so happy to work here.”

Lucy threw her an unexpectedly bright smile. “I am,” she said, softly. “It’s the best place ever.” Eudora could tell she meant it.

“I’ll take one of these, too,” Eudora said, adding one of the vintage wallpaper bookmarks to her pile. “And one of these.” She grabbed a small bag of saltwater taffy from a basket.

“The Candy Manor made those special for us,” Lucy said, pointing to the pink label: Sandy Page Saltwater . Eudora knew the Candy Manor. Just as every child in every corner of the Cape knew it.

“Leah really thought of everything!” Eudora said, taking another. She’d send one to Caroline and the kids.

“They’re too good, if you know what I mean,” Lucy warned.

Just then, the bell jangled over the front door and they both turned. A teenage boy stood in the doorway, glancing around uncertainly. Lucy’s smile instantly evaporated.

“Here you go, dear,” Eudora said, holding out her credit card. But Lucy didn’t seem to hear. She was frozen, eyes fixed on the boy. Eudora glanced between the two. Something was wrong.

“Excuse me,” Lucy said, abruptly. She left Eudora at the cash register, credit card hanging in the air, and disappeared into the back room. Brad emerged a moment later.

“May I check you out?” he asked. If he’d noticed the boy in the doorway, it did not have the same impact as it had on Lucy.

“Is she alright?” Eudora asked.

“Who?”

“That nice girl, Lucy. She was helping me.” Eudora glanced back at the boy. He was just leaving, pulling the door closed behind him. She watched as he turned down the sidewalk, his dark brown hair disappearing from view.

Brad shrugged casually. “Lucy just asked me to take over so she could take her lunch break. Was something wrong with her service?”

“Oh no,” Eudora lied. “She mustn’t have seen me at the checkout.”

When she got outside with Alfred and her two books, Eudora inhaled deeply as if she’d just had the most satisfying meal and was ready for a nap. Caroline would be pleased: she had gone out, socialized, and even reconnected with an old student. And she had two lovely new books to show for it.

But the whole way home she couldn’t help but wonder about Lucy and the boy in the doorway. Red flags were waving in her guidance counselor’s mind, a thing she’d found she could never turn off, despite retirement.

One thing was for sure, she’d have to go back to the Sandy Page.