She pulled into the small gravel parking lot and looked around. There were only two other cars in the parking lot. An old blue Chevy wagon and a boxy yellow Volvo that had seen better days. She pulled up next to the Volvo and parked as close as she could to the tall faded wooden privacy fence that bordered the back. Stepping out of the car she dodged the variety of potholes in need of gravel.
The short cement walkway up to the front porch was lined by over-tall grass bending in to cover the path. At the edge of the walk was another old Chevy station wagon with the tail end backed up so it faced the sidewalk. The back gate of the carwas flipped up and cardboard boxes of used books were piled inside with the price scrawled on the outside of each box. The boxes had the name of an old moving company, Ownby’s, now defunct, on the side with the words, ‘Moving Families Since 1924’.
Wallis remembered Stanley’s admonishment in his note to come with a purpose and she stopped to look in the boxes, ducking her head under the open tail-gate. She didn’t really read much anymore unless it was a legal brief or a deposition but had loved to read novels before law school. Maybe there’s an old treasure in here, she thought.
The boxes were mostly filled with old school books from the 30’s and 40’s and had the names of children now retired or passed away written in the front with the name of their teacher and their grade. The handwriting was loopy and large and done with deliberate care. She peered into another box before turning for the wooden steps and heading into the store.
The bell over the door gave out a small tinkle as she entered. Don’t see that too often anymore, she thought. A small woman with short, curly salt and pepper hair was bent over a large wooden desk at the far end of the small room. An old brown cash register was perched on the top of the desk next to her. On her other side were tall piles of new children’s picture books.
The entire room was crammed with books. Small mismatched wooden dining tables were scattered in the space, covered in different colored table cloths and topped with stacks of books. Built-in book cases lined every wall that didn’t have a window and more books were propped up in the windows. Wallis had never seen anything like it. Ned would love this, she thought.
“Can I help you?” said the woman, lifting her head to look up over half-glasses slid halfway down her nose. “Were you looking for something in particular?” she said, in heavily accented English. Wallis guessed she was probably European by birth.
“Do you have a travel section?” Wallis asked.
“What kind? To where?”
“Europe?”
“Sure, sure. Follow me,” said the woman quickly, pulling off her glasses and letting them dangle from a long black cord around her neck. She gestured to Wallis with her arm to follow her down a small, narrow hallway lined with bookcases that began just behind the large desk. Wallis hadn’t even noticed the passageway before.
“My name is Esther,” she said, rolling her r’s. “I own the place with my husband, Herman. If you need a book, ask me, I’ll know where it is. If we don’t have it, even if it’s out of date, I’ll find it. That’s our specialty.” Her voice rose and fell, ending on a high note.
Esther looked back at Wallis as they turned a sharp corner and headed down another narrow hallway that wound past small offshoots of rooms filled with books. She scanned Wallis up and down, making Wallis uncomfortable, while still walking through the odd angles of the halls, not bumping into anything. Occasionally her hand darted out and touched a book as if checking to make sure she was still navigating correctly, her steps never slowing.
“Have you ever been to Europe?” asked Esther, her head turning away from Wallis to face front, not waiting for an answer. Wallis wasn’t sure if she should answer. Esther turned back to her with raised eyebrows.
“No, no, I haven’t. Would like to, though.”
“Any place in particular?”
“No?” Wallis wasn’t a very good liar without a mapped-out strategy. It was something Norman was always pointing out that made her a very unique lawyer.
“Transylvania is beautiful. I know, I know,” she said waving her hand in the air, “I’ve heard all the jokes. Maybe that’s why it’s still beautiful. No one takes the place very seriously. The castles and the town are still very much like when I was a girl. No modern ugly apartment buildings, no tall cell phone towers.” Her face turned into a sneer as she glanced over her shoulder at Wallis. They turned at last into a small room on the far side of the house. Stanley Woermer was already there looking at a fat paperback book about the sights of Paris. He was dressed in dark blue nylon shorts with a blue and yellow windbreaker zipped up to his chin. Wallis tried not to look at him.
“Start with this,” said Ruth, pulling a tall, thin hard-back book off of a shelf and handing it to Wallis. “Hello, Stanley. I didn’t see you come in. Finding everything?”
Stanley startled, the book in his hands momentarily shaking. “Yes, Ruth, I’m fine. I know my way around.”