ALL THAT GLITTERS, chapter 1

chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lucky dropped the scrap of paper as carefully as she could into the bin of books, then crouched behind the front desk, feeling around for the baseball bat her dad kept under the counter. She felt Michelle next to her, as the banging in the dark continued. Without speaking, she passed the wooden “Louisville Slugger” to Michelle, who slid it across to Sandy. Even with the lights out, the shimmer from the early evening snowstorm sent an eerie gray light through the glass of the front door to the shop, outlining a man beyond the glass.

The wind let up for a moment and the man’s voice suddenly came clearly. “Michelle! Are you in there? Come on, let me in!”

With a choked giggle, Michelle said, “It’s Jon. How did he know we were here?”

Sandy handed the baseball bat back over the counter and unlocked the door, letting in Michelle’s long-time boyfriend. “Jeez, Jon, you scared us all half to death. Or something like that. What the heck?”

She shoved the door closed, even as pellets of icy snow blew inward, skittering on the floor. Michelle stood up and grabbed Jon’s arm, while Lucky unfolded herself and fumbled for the flashlight.

For a moment Lucky aimed it at Jon and Michelle, then directly down into the bin where she’d dropped the intriguing page. Could it really have said what she thought? It looked old enough, but the flashlight wasn’t strong enough.

“Before the power went out, I could see you all in here, and I’ve been leaving you messages all afternoon. So I figured I’d come see you in person, Michelle.”

“You have? But there hasn’t been a ring all – oh no, I turned off the ringer at the hospital and didn’t turn it on again. Sorry, Jon. Now it’s on. Tell me why you were calling.”

“I just thought maybe we could go do something tonight.” Jon looked around at the three friends in the faint light. Their grim faces must have made a connection for him, because he began to apologize. “I should have realized you’d be helping Lucky. Hey, how’s your dad doing? Did your mom really shoot him? What did he do?”

Lucky let Michelle explain. She smoothed the page out on the counter and examined it as closely as the flashlight would allow. It did say President Lincoln, but not at the signature part – it was a letter about him, not from him. It convinced her that the box of books with the governor’s name taped on the side must be really historic, maybe really important, and definitely valuable.

“I wonder,” she said out loud. “Maybe my dad was appraising them, just for value, not for buying them. I mean, we don’t have really old books here in the store.”

She slipped the old page into a folded sheet of regular paper, and laid it carefully between some larger books as she refilled the box. Jon and Michelle handed her the other books. And Jon bent to the floor, feeling in the darkness at the far side of the counter.

“I heard it when I stepped on it. Not a book, but papers. Here.” The lights suddenly flickered on again. He handed half a dozen sheets of modern ordinary paper, forms of some kind, to Lucky, brushing off some sand and melting snow. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” The pages didn’t look like they belonged with the old books. Lucky set them to the side and looked around, hearing the growl of the heating system starting up again and feeling a wave of exhaustion. So much had happened in just one day.

Jon went on explaining to Michelle: “That creep Sean Perkins ran into me as I was headed over here, too. Said you’d beat him up or something. I figured if any of you did, it must have been Sandy.” He grinned, and Sandy laughed, with a flash of the studs along her lip. “Whatever you did, I bet he earned it.”