CAROLINA
January 1942
Maggie kneeled in front of the bookshelf in the back of Folly’s Finds, reshelving the atlas she’d borrowed to take home the previous night. She was always careful not to leave fingerprints on the covers or bend the spines, and since the atlas was one of the more expensive books she had in the store, she’d been extra careful. She normally limited her selection to a classic romance, but she’d taken the atlas on impulse, wanting to learn what she could about Poland.
She eyed the shelf critically, noticing how some of the books had been wrongly shelved and began pulling them off to reorganize. She gritted her teeth as she wondered if Cat had done it deliberately so that she wouldn’t be asked to do it again or if she really was incapable of shelving books alphabetically by author. Sitting back on her heels, Maggie called out, “Lulu, could you please open that small box behind the counter—the one that arrived yesterday? It’s toothpaste and shaving cream, and needs to go on the shelves.”
Lulu didn’t answer right away and Maggie pictured her sitting behind the counter out of view, her nose buried in yet another Nancy Drew mystery. Or drawing inside the back cover in ink. The first time she’d caught Lulu drawing in a book, she’d been angry until she’d seen how good it was. She’d held her anger in check and instructed Lulu to contain her drawings to her notepads, but every now and then she’d find an ink drawing tucked into the back cover of one of her precious books, like Lulu’s signature.
With a halfhearted voice, Lulu called out, “Where do you want them?”
“On the front shelf to the right, third row down. Next to the soap if we have any left.”
Maggie listened as Lulu let out an exaggerated sigh, followed by the sound of a box being shoved across the wood floor. She was about to call out again to tell Lulu to pick up the box because she was scratching the floor when the sound of a man’s voice, slightly accented, stopped her.
“May I help you with that, young miss?”
Maggie felt her cheeks heat as her hands went to her hair to smooth it quickly. She bit on her lips to color them and stood, hastily untying her apron and shoving it on the shelf behind her. With what she hoped would be a calm and mildly interested smile on her face, she walked to the front of the store.
Peter wore a dark blue suit with a neatly pressed white handkerchief stuck inside the pocket. He finished moving the box before straightening and smiling when he saw her, making Maggie blush. “Margaret,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips in a decidedly old-fashioned way.
“Peter,” she said. “What a nice surprise to see you here.” Peter had escorted her home the previous evening since Cat had pulled another disappearing act, but when Peter had kissed her hand and wished her good night, there had been no promises and she hadn’t expected any. Most of the men on Folly were here only temporarily, and her experience with Jim had taught her to not look beyond the present.
He raised an eyebrow. “But you told me about your store. I presumed it was because you’d like for me to see it.”
She appreciated his efforts to save her from embarrassment and found herself smiling back. “Yes, of course. And you’re just in time for the morning paper. We just received our News and Courier delivery.”
He nodded as his gaze traveled over the well-worn oak counter that had been there before Maggie had acquired the store and probably been there since the store’s existence. He noticed without comment the candy baskets at the foot of the counter, the short shelves of cigarettes and the bowls of matches, the magazine racks of House and Garden and Good Housekeeping, the Coca-Cola ice cooler.
“It looks like you’re not having any shortages here.”
“Not yet. We’ve only been at war for two months. But I have a feeling things are going to change pretty soon. Already I’m
January 1942
Maggie kneeled in front of the bookshelf in the back of Folly’s Finds, reshelving the atlas she’d borrowed to take home the previous night. She was always careful not to leave fingerprints on the covers or bend the spines, and since the atlas was one of the more expensive books she had in the store, she’d been extra careful. She normally limited her selection to a classic romance, but she’d taken the atlas on impulse, wanting to learn what she could about Poland.
She eyed the shelf critically, noticing how some of the books had been wrongly shelved and began pulling them off to reorganize. She gritted her teeth as she wondered if Cat had done it deliberately so that she wouldn’t be asked to do it again or if she really was incapable of shelving books alphabetically by author. Sitting back on her heels, Maggie called out, “Lulu, could you please open that small box behind the counter—the one that arrived yesterday? It’s toothpaste and shaving cream, and needs to go on the shelves.”
Lulu didn’t answer right away and Maggie pictured her sitting behind the counter out of view, her nose buried in yet another Nancy Drew mystery. Or drawing inside the back cover in ink. The first time she’d caught Lulu drawing in a book, she’d been angry until she’d seen how good it was. She’d held her anger in check and instructed Lulu to contain her drawings to her notepads, but every now and then she’d find an ink drawing tucked into the back cover of one of her precious books, like Lulu’s signature.
With a halfhearted voice, Lulu called out, “Where do you want them?”
“On the front shelf to the right, third row down. Next to the soap if we have any left.”
Maggie listened as Lulu let out an exaggerated sigh, followed by the sound of a box being shoved across the wood floor. She was about to call out again to tell Lulu to pick up the box because she was scratching the floor when the sound of a man’s voice, slightly accented, stopped her.
“May I help you with that, young miss?”
Maggie felt her cheeks heat as her hands went to her hair to smooth it quickly. She bit on her lips to color them and stood, hastily untying her apron and shoving it on the shelf behind her. With what she hoped would be a calm and mildly interested smile on her face, she walked to the front of the store.
Peter wore a dark blue suit with a neatly pressed white handkerchief stuck inside the pocket. He finished moving the box before straightening and smiling when he saw her, making Maggie blush. “Margaret,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips in a decidedly old-fashioned way.
“Peter,” she said. “What a nice surprise to see you here.” Peter had escorted her home the previous evening since Cat had pulled another disappearing act, but when Peter had kissed her hand and wished her good night, there had been no promises and she hadn’t expected any. Most of the men on Folly were here only temporarily, and her experience with Jim had taught her to not look beyond the present.
He raised an eyebrow. “But you told me about your store. I presumed it was because you’d like for me to see it.”
She appreciated his efforts to save her from embarrassment and found herself smiling back. “Yes, of course. And you’re just in time for the morning paper. We just received our News and Courier delivery.”
He nodded as his gaze traveled over the well-worn oak counter that had been there before Maggie had acquired the store and probably been there since the store’s existence. He noticed without comment the candy baskets at the foot of the counter, the short shelves of cigarettes and the bowls of matches, the magazine racks of House and Garden and Good Housekeeping, the Coca-Cola ice cooler.
“It looks like you’re not having any shortages here.”
“Not yet. We’ve only been at war for two months. But I have a feeling things are going to change pretty soon. Already I’m
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