Ruth ate another fry. Jane finished the last bite of the egg scramble, then let her gaze wander around the diner. It was still packed, and there were a few small groups of people waiting for tables. The counter seats were all filled, and Jane noticed an older man sitting at the very end, his stool swiveled so he was facing the direction of their table. Although most of his face was hidden by a newspaper he held, his eyes were visible over the top of it. And Jane swore he kept looking up at them, shifting his vision from her mother and back to her.
“Do you know that guy?” Jane said, leaning toward her mother. “Don’t turn around. At the end of the counter. He keeps looking over here.”
“If I don’t turn around, how can I tell you if I know him?” Ruth asked, smiling.
“I mean, look, but don’t make it obvious.”
Ruth turned her body to the side and acted like she was reading the specials board. She took a quick glance behind her, then turned back to Jane. Her face had changed. She looked almost sad.
“Dick Carrington. Dr. Carrington,” she said.
“Was he your doctor?”
Ruth didn’t answer for a moment. She flagged down a server and motioned for the check. “No. Not my doctor.”
“Oh. Why do you think he keeps looking at us?”
“Because you’re beautiful,” Ruth said. It was clear she was trying to keep her tone light. She winked. The server came back with the check and Ruth pulled some money from her wallet and put it on the table. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
They had to pass the man to get out of the restaurant, and when they were close enough, he lowered his newspaper and said, “Ruthellen North. I thought that was you.”
“Dr. Carrington. How are you?” Ruth said, taking his outstretched hand.
“Old,” he said, laughing. His gaze switched to Jane. His laughter died and his expression turned serious. “What a lovely girl.”
“My daughter,” Ruth said. “Jane.”
“Jane,” he repeated. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you.”
He turned to Ruth. “Are you back in that house?”
“Yes. Jane and I moved into North Manor,” she said. “It was nice to see you, but we really have to—”
“It can’t be easy,” he said softly. “Being back there.”
“Really nice to see you,” Ruth said pointedly. She put a hand on his arm and squeezed, then reached back and took Jane’s hand and led her out of the diner.
Once they were outside, Jane tugged at Ruth to get her to stop walking.
“What was that about?”
“What was what about?” Ruth asked.
“The creepy old man being creepy? ‘It can’t be easy being back there’?”
“Oh, honey. He’s a hundred years old. Who knows what he meant.”
“It seems like he meant he’s surprised you’re back in North Manor. Why would he be surprised you’re back in North Manor?”
“Would you like to go ask him, sweetie? I’m not a mind reader. People are weird. Did you notice he was also holding his newspaper upside down?”
“He was?”
“Yes. Stop being such an alarmist.” Ruth smiled. “Look—there’s a bookstore across the square.”
“Where?” Jane mumbled. She had the distinct impression Ruth was trying to change the subject, and she was annoyed that it was working.
She looked around the town square. She didn’t think she had ever been in a town quite this tiny before, where you could turn in a circle and pick out the post office, the diner, the general store, the coffee shop, and the bookstore. Actually, these last two were connected, and the sign above their shared entrance said BEANS & BOOKS.
“Fine. I’ll go in,” Jane said.
“If I twist your arm?”
“Maybe I’ll see if they’re hiring. If you can get a job, I can get a job.”
“Honey, take some time and settle into things a bit. You don’t have to rush into anything like that.”
“Nothing too bad. A few hours after school or something,” Jane said.
“All right. Well, here, get me a coffee to go,” Ruth said, digging in her purse.
“My treat,” Jane said, and took off before her mom could argue.
The shop was deceptively roomy on the inside. The coffee counter was to the left, and there were a few scattered café tables in front of it. The bookshelves started to the right, five or six long stacks of them with places here and there to set your coffee while you browsed. The combined smell of coffee and used books felt like the intersection of all things good and necessary, as far as Jane was concerned. Any residual weirdness from the man in the diner melted away as she stepped between the first shelves of books.
She did what she did in every bookstore she visited—she went to the mystery section and scanned the shelves for Agatha Christie books. She was pleased to find a fairly large collection of little vintage paperbacks, some of them even in individual protective sleeves. She picked up a copy of The ABC Murders—it was one of her favorites, and she owned multiple editions. She had never seen this one before, though. It had a purple cover, which she loved, with illustrations of various bits of the novel on it: a yellow stocking, a woman with a red scarf around her neck, a stack of letters addressed to M. Hercule Poirot.
“Help you find anything?” said a voice behind her. She turned around to see a black guy a few years older than she was. He was cute, with jeans and a buffalo-plaid flannel rolled up to his elbows.
“Oh, just browsing for now, thanks.”
He peeked behind her at the shelf she was looking at. “Agatha Christie?”
“Yeah. She’s great.”
“I could never get into her,” he said, shrugging. “It’s impossible to figure out who the murderer is.”
“That’s exactly why I like them. Once you get to the end, you realize that you should’ve known all along.”
He smiled. “Well, let me know if you have any questions.”
“Actually… you aren’t hiring by any chance, are you?”
“You might just have perfect timing. We had a couple people leave at the beginning of the school year.” He paused, then held his hand out. “I’m Will. My dad owns this place, but I’m the manager.”
“Jane.” She shook his hand. “I just moved here. I’m a senior, but I can work after school or on weekends. Or both. Anything you need, really.”
“That sounds perfect. Where did you move from?”
“Los Angeles.”
“Los Angeles, California, to Bells Hollow, Maine. An interesting trajectory.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Jane said, laughing.
“What do you think of it so far?”
“So far it’s… fine.” She shrugged. “We just got here. I haven’t formed any huge opinions yet. I mean, the bookstore is nice.”
“The bookstore is the best,” Will said, spreading his arms out. “Let’s go to the counter and I’ll get your number. Can I get you a coffee or something? On the house.”
“Oh, thanks. That would be great. And I think I’ll take this book, too.”