Get ready for another heartfet story with Brenda Novak's newest book, The Bookstore on the Beach. Let's chat with the author and then check out the book below.
Q&A with Brenda Novak
Q: Did you go to the library when you
were in elementary school? If so, do you remember any of your favorite books or
series from childhood?
A: The library in elementary school was where I
developed my love of reading. I remember hating to read in the beginning, but
once my teacher took us to the library and let us choose any book we wanted, I
happened upon a shelf of classics. I picked up JANE EYRE and absolutely
devoured it. Then I went back and got THE SECRET GARDEN and moved through that
entire shelf within weeks. I remember thinking, “So this is reading!” And I’ve loved it ever since.
Q: What hobbies do you enjoy?
A: I love to play pickleball. My oldest son
introduced me to the game and gave me a racquet for Mother’s Day, and I’ve been
playing ever since. It’s such a fun/addictive thing to do. I also spend a lot
of time with my two grandchildren. They’re not quite a hobby, of course, but if
I’m not working that’s where I spend most of my time.
Q: What is your favorite
food/dessert/cuisine?
A: I love Mexican food, and I’m fortunate to
live in California, where it’s easy to find really great tacos. There are some
smoked tri-tip tacos at a little delicatessen my husband discovered that are to
die for. They only serve them three days a week, though, so we have to plan out
our trips.
Q: Where would you choose to go on
holiday if time and money were not of consideration?
A: Two years ago, I would’ve said Egypt, but I
was able to go there the year before the pandemic started, and I absolutely
loved it. I’ve always been fascinated by their antiquities. They have an
absolute embarrassment of riches when it comes to relics from two thousand or
more years ago. Now I would have to say India. I don’t yet know a lot about
that, but it seems so exotic and wonderful to me--and I love the food. India is
definitely on my bucket list!
Q: Is there a book you would like to
write that would require in person research that would take you to a foreign
country and if so, where would you be heading to do research?
A:
Because I write women’s fiction, I would have to say France, Italy, Ireland or
Scotland. I started my career writing English historicals, so I actually have
traveled to a foreign country for research. (OF NOBLE BIRTH, HONOR BOUND,
THROUGH THE SMOKE & A MATTER OF GRAVE CONCERN)
Q: Is there a genre that you have not
written in that you might like to try some day?
A: I would love to write a long historical
saga. I actually have one brewing in my mind, so...who knows? Maybe one day
I’ll get around to writing it.
Q: Do you write under other pen
names?
A: No. It’s hard enough to promote one name!
LOL
Q: Do you have pets or animals you
would like to have as pets?
A: I
raised five kids, so I’m taking a break from being responsible for other
people--even animals. But I have a grand-dog--a Chow Chow named Simba, and he’s
so fluffy and mild tempered. It’s the same as having grandbabies. I get all the
fun without the hard work! Ha!
The
Bookstore on the Beach : A Novel
Brenda
Novak
On Sale Date: April 6, 2021
9780778361053
Trade Paperback
$16.99 USD
448 pages
About
the Book: For fans of Elin Hilderbrand and Mary
Kay Andrews, comes New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak's newest
standalone work of women's fiction, a big, sweeping novel about family and the
ties that bind and challenge us. In this novel, three generations of women from
the same family share a house and work together at a bookstore in Colonial
Beach over the course of a summer.
How do you start a new chapter when you
haven’t closed the book on the last one?
Eighteen months ago, Autumn Divac’s husband went
missing. Her desperate search has yielded no answers—she still has no idea
where he went or why. After being happily married for twenty years, she can’t
imagine moving forward without him, but for the sake of their two teenage
children, she has to try.
Autumn takes her kids home for the summer to
the charming beachside town where she was raised. She seeks comfort by working
alongside her mother and aunt at their quaint bookshop, only to learn that her
daughter is facing a life change neither of them saw coming and her mother has
been hiding a terrible secret for years. And when she runs into Quinn
Vanderbilt—the boy who stole her heart in high school—old feelings start to
bubble up again. Is she free to love him, or should she hold out hope for her
husband’s return? She can only trust her heart…and hope it won’t lead her
astray.
CHAPTER 1
Tuesday, June 8
Today her daughter was returning for the
summer. Mary Langford gazed eagerly out at the street in front of her small
bookstore, looking for a glimpse of Autumn’s car and, when she saw nothing
except a large family going into the ice cream parlor at the end of the block,
checked her watch. Three-thirty. Autumn had called at lunchtime to say that she
and the kids were making good time. They probably wouldn’t be much longer.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Laurie commented
from where she sat behind the counter, straightening the pens, tape, stapler
and bookmarks.
Mary turned from the large front window she’d
recently decorated with posters of the hottest new releases. “I worry when
she’s on the road for so long.”
“She’ll make it, and it’ll be great to see her
and the kids. They haven’t been back since Christmas, have they?”
“No.” She picked up the feather duster and
began cleaning shelves—a never-ending job at Beach Front Books, which she and
Laurie owned as 50/50 partners. Autumn lived in Tampa, Florida, far enough away
that it wasn’t easy to get together when Taylor and Caden were in school. “And
I doubt they’ll come back for the holidays this year.” Fortunately, they were
more consistent about returning for the summer—except for last summer, of
course, which was understandable. Mary hoped she’d be able to count on that
continuing, but with the kids getting older, nothing was certain. Taylor had
only one more year of high school before heading off to college. Caden had two.
Mary feared this might be the last time, for a while, they’d all be together in
Sable Beach.
“You could go visit them,” Laurie pointed out.
Autumn had invited her many times. Remembering
the arguments her refusal had sparked over the years caused Mary’s stomach to
churn. She wanted to go to Tampa, wanted to make it so that her daughter
wouldn’t have to do all the
traveling. Autumn had been going through so much lately. But the thought of
venturing into unfamiliar territory filled Mary with dread. Other than to go to
Richmond occasionally, which was the closest big city, she hadn’t left the
sleepy Virginia Beach town she called home in thirty-five years. “Yes, but you
know me. This is the only place I feel safe.”
Laurie rocked back on the tall stool. “Well,
if the fear hasn’t gone away by now, I guess it’s not going to.”
“No. I don’t talk about it anymore, but the
past is as real to me now as it’s ever been.”
Although the store had been busy earlier, what
with the influx of tourists for the season, foot traffic had slowed. When that
happened, they often talked more than they worked. Beach Front Books wasn’t
Laurie’s sole source of income. Her husband, Christopher Conklin, was a
talented artist. He painted all kinds of seascapes, and while he wasn’t in any
prestigious galleries, he sold his paintings in a section they reserved for him
in the store as well as online.
But Mary, who’d never been married, had no
other support. Beach Front Books didn’t make a large profit, but no one loved
the escape that books provided more than she did, and the store garnered enough
business that she could eke out a living. That was all that mattered to her.
“Autumn gets so mad that I won’t go out and
see the world. Visit. Travel. That sort of thing,” she murmured, wishing she
didn’t have the scars and limitations that had, at times, put such a strain on
their relationship. “She keeps saying I’m too young to live like an old lady.”
“She has a point.”
Mary sighed. “I’m not young anymore.”
“What are you talking about? You’re nine years
younger than me. Fifty-four is not old.”
That was true, but she’d had to grow up far
sooner than most people. “I feel ancient.”
“Next year, you should go to Tampa, if they
ask you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Maybe you’ll prove that you can.”
Mary couldn’t help bristling. She didn’t like
it when Laurie pushed her. “No.”
“Autumn doesn’t understand, Mary. That’s what
causes almost every fight you have with her.”
“I know. And I feel bad about that. But
there’s nothing I can do.”
Laurie lowered her voice. “You could tell her
the truth…”
“Absolutely not,” Mary snapped. “Why would I
ever do that?”
“There are reasons. And you know it. We’ve
talked about this before,” Laurie said, remaining calm, as always. That was one
of the many things Mary liked about her—she was steady and patient, and that
steadiness somehow helped Mary cope when old feelings and memories began to
resurface.
In this instance, Laurie might also be right.
Mary could feel the past rising up from its deep slumber. Maybe it was time to tell Autumn.
But there were just as many reasons not to—compelling reasons. And the thought of
revealing the past, seeing it all through her daughter’s eyes, made Mary feel
ill. “I can’t broach that subject right now, not with what she’s been dealing
with the past year and a half. Besides, it’s been so long it’s almost as if it
happened to someone else,” she said, mentally shoving those dark years into the
deepest recesses of her mind. “I want to stay as far away from that subject as
possible.”
Laurie didn’t call her out on the
contradiction her statement created. And Mary was glad. She couldn’t have
explained how it could be real and frightening and always present and yet she
could feel oddly removed from it at the same time.
“Except that it didn’t happen to someone else,” Laurie responded
sadly. “It happened to you.”
* * *
The scent of the ocean, more than anything
else, told Autumn she was home. She lowered her window as soon as she rolled
into town and breathed deeply, letting the salt air fill her lungs.
“What are you doing?” Taylor held her long
brown hair in one hand to keep it from whipping across her face as she looked
over from the passenger seat.
Autumn smiled, which was something she knew
her children hadn’t seen her do enough of lately. “Just getting a little air.”
“You hate it when I roll down my window,” Caden grumbled from the backseat.
“I’m hoping I won’t be so irritable anymore.”
For the past eighteen months, Autumn had been mired in the nightmare that had
overtaken her life. She almost hadn’t come to Sable Beach because of it. But
when her children had each pleaded with her, separately, to ask if they could
spend the summer with “Mimi” like they used to, she knew they needed some
normalcy in their lives—needed to retain at least one of their parents. Her
grief and preoccupation with her husband’s disappearance had probably made them
feel as though she’d gone missing, too—at least the mother they’d known before.
She hoped by returning to the place that held so many wonderful memories for
them all, they’d be able to heal and reconnect.
It wasn’t as if she could do anything more for
Nick, anyway. That was the ugly reality. She’d exhausted every viable lead and
still had no idea where he was. If he was dead, she had to figure out a way to
go on without him for the sake of their children.
The second she spotted the bookstore, the
nostalgia that welled up—along with memories of a simpler, easier time—nearly
brought her to tears. When she was a little girl, she’d spent so many hours
following her mother through the narrow aisles of that quaint shop, which
looked like something from the crooked, narrow streets of Victorian London,
dusting bookshelves or reading in the nook her mother had created for her.
She’d spent just as much time at Beach Front
Books when she was a teenager, only then she was stocking shelves, ordering
inventory, working the register—and, again, reading, but this time sitting on
the stool behind the counter while waiting for her next customer.
God, it was good to be back. As hard as she
could be on her mother for her unreasonable fears and idiosyncrasies, she
couldn’t wait to see her. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized just how much
she missed her mother. So what if Mary was almost agoraphobic with her
unwillingness to leave her little bungalow a block away from the sea? She was
always there, waiting to welcome Autumn home. Maybe Autumn had never had a
father, or the little brother or sister she’d secretly longed for, but she was
lucky enough to have the enduring love of a good mother.
“There it is.” She pointed to the bookstore as
she slowed to look for a place to park.
“We’re not going to the beach house?” Caden
asked, looking up from whatever he’d been doing on his phone.
“Not right now. First, we’re stopping to see
Mimi and Aunt Laurie. Then we’ll take our stuff over to the house.”
A glance in the rearview mirror showed her his
scowl. “I hope it won’t be too late to go to the beach,” he said.
“I’m sure we can manage to get there before
dark,” she responded as she wedged her white Volvo SUV between a red
convertible and a gray sedan and grabbed her purse.
Taylor spoke, causing her to pause with her
hand on the door latch. “You already seem different.”
“In what way?” Autumn asked.
“Less uptight. Not so sad.”
“Coming here makes me happy,” she admitted.
“Then why were we going to skip it again?”
Caden asked.
Autumn twisted around to look at him. “You
know why.”
A pained expression claimed her daughter’s
face. “Does this mean you’re letting go?”
“Of Dad? Of course she’s letting go,” Caden answered,
the hard edge to his voice suggesting he considered the question to be a stupid
one. “Dad’s dead.”
“Don’t say that!” Taylor snapped. “We don’t
know it’s true. He could be coming back.”
“It’s been eighteen months, Tay,” Caden
responded. “He would’ve come back by now if he could.”
“Stop it, both of you.” Autumn didn’t want
them getting into an argument right before they saw her mother. They were at
each other’s throats so often lately; it drove her crazy to constantly have to
play referee. But she could hardly blame them. They’d lost their father, and
they didn’t know how or why. And she had no explanation. “Life’s been hard
enough lately,” she added. “Let’s not make it any harder.”
“Then you tell her,”
Caden said. “Dad’s dead, and we have to move on. Right? Isn’t that the truth?
Go ahead and say it—you are letting
go.”
Was she? Is that what this trip signified? If
not, how much longer should she hold on? And would holding on be best for them?
She couldn’t imagine her kids would want to spend another eighteen months
swallowed up by grief and consumed with seeking answers they may never find.
Taylor was seventeen, going to be a senior and starting to investigate
colleges. Caden was only a year behind her. Surely, they would prefer to look
forward and not back.
Regardless, Autumn wasn’t sure she could continue to search, not like she had. She
was exhausted—mentally and physically. She’d put everything she had into the
past year and a half, and it hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. That was the
most disheartening part of it.
“I’m continuing to hold out hope,” she said,
even though everyone she’d talked to, including the FBI, insisted her husband
must be dead. It was difficult to see the idyllic, two-parent upbringing she
was trying to give her kids—something she’d never had herself—fall apart that
quickly and easily, and the heartbreak, loneliness and frustration of looking
for Nick, with no results, created such a downward spiral for her. She knew it
had been just as painful for her children. That was why maybe she should let go—to provide the best quality of life
for them as possible.
“What does that mean? Are you going to keep looking for him?” Caden
pressed. “Is that how you’re going to spend the summer?”
He could tell something had changed, that
coming here signified a difference, and he wanted to reach the bottom line. But
Autumn wasn’t ready to admit that she’d failed. Not with as many times as she’d
tried to comfort them by promising she’d have answers eventually.
She opened her mouth to try to explain what
she was thinking in the gentlest possible way when she spotted her mother. Mary
had come out of the store and was waving at them.
“There’s your grandmother,” she said.
Thankfully, her children let the conversation
lapse and got out of the car.
“Hi, Mimi.” With his long strides, Caden
reached Mary first. Although he wasn’t yet fully grown, he was already six-one.
And Taylor was five foot ten. They were both tall, like their father.
Mary gave each of the kids a big hug and
exclaimed about how grown-up they both were and how excited she was to see them
before turning to Autumn.
“You’ve lost weight,” she murmured gently, a
hint of worry belying her smile before they embraced.
“I’m okay, Mom.” Autumn could smell a hint of
the bookstore on Mary’s clothes and realized that was another scent she’d never
forget. It represented her childhood and all the great stories she’d read
growing up. She’d once hoped to read every book in the store. She hadn’t quite
made it, thanks to new releases and fluctuating inventory, but she’d read more
books than most people. She still considered books to be a big part of her
life. “It’s good to be home.”
“Laurie’s dying to see you. Let’s go in and
say hello,” Mary said and held the door.
As soon as the bell sounded, Laurie hurried
out from behind the register. “There you are! It’s a good thing you came when
you did. I was afraid it would drive your mother crazy waiting for you. She’s
been so anxious for you to arrive. We both have.”
Taylor allowed her aunt to give her an exuberant
squeeze. “I’m glad we got to come this year. Where’s Uncle Chris?”
“Probably on the beach somewhere, painting.
You know how he is once the weather warms up—just like a child, eager to get
outdoors.”
They took a few minutes to visit the small
section of the store dedicated to Christopher’s work so they could admire his
latest paintings. Autumn was especially enamored with one he’d done of the
bookstore that portrayed a child out front, hanging on to her mother with one
hand and carrying a stack of books with the other. That child could’ve been her
once upon a time. She almost wondered if his memory of her had inspired it,
which was why she decided, if that painting didn’t sell before she left, she’d
buy it herself and take it back to Tampa.
Fortunately, she had the money. As a corporate
attorney, Nick had always done well financially. After the first few years of
their marriage, which he spent finishing school, they’d rarely had to scrimp.
But it was what he’d inherited when his father passed away that’d really set
them up. After Sergey’s death, Autumn had quit working as a loan officer for a
local bank and, for the past ten years, had focused on her family, her home,
gardening and cooking. Her financial situation was also one of the reasons she
rejected the idea that Nick might’ve left her for another woman, a possibility
that had been suggested to her many, many times. Why would he leave his
children, too, and walk away without a cent? Sure, they’d had their struggles,
especially in recent years, when his work seemed to take more and more of his
time and attention, but neither of them had ever mentioned separating.
“This is amazing,” she exclaimed as she
continued to study the little girl in the painting. “I love Chris’s work.”
“The last original he donated to charity went
for six thousand dollars,” Laurie announced proudly.
“Who bought it?” Autumn asked. If whoever it
was lived in Sable Beach, chances were good she’d know him or her.
“Mike Vanderbilt, over at The Daily Catch. He
was drunk when he got into a bidding war for it, and now it’s hanging in his
restaurant. I think he’s glad to have it, but I imagine he also sees it as a
reminder not to raise his paddle when he’s been drinking.”
They all laughed to think of the
barrel-chested and good-natured Mike letting alcohol bring out his competitive
nature.
“His wife must be doing well, then,” Autumn
said. “She’s still in remission?”
Laurie shot Mary a surprised glance, and it
was Mary who answered. “I’m afraid not. She was when he bought that painting,
but they received word just a couple of months ago that Beth’s breast cancer
has come back.”
“Oh no,” Autumn cried. Everyone knew the
owners of The Daily Catch. They did a lot for the community. And it was her
favorite restaurant. When she was home, she ate there all the time. “What’s her
prognosis?”
“Not good. That’s why Quinn has moved home
from that little town in upstate New York. He helps his father with the
restaurant these days. I’m sure he’s also here to spend time with his mother
before…well, before he has to say goodbye to her for good.”
“Quinn’s home?” Autumn said. She wasn’t
expecting that; the mention of his name knocked her a little off-kilter. When
he was a senior and she was a junior, she’d given him her virginity in the
elaborate tree house that was in his backyard, even though he hadn’t been
nearly as interested in being with her as she was him. And then he’d broken her
heart by getting back together with his girlfriend, the same woman he married
five years later. “So his wife and kids are here now, too?”
“No, he doesn’t have any kids,” Laurie said,
chiming in again. “And he and Sarah—what was her maiden name?”
“Vizii,” Autumn supplied.
“Yes. Vizii. They divorced almost two years
ago. You didn’t know?”
“How would I?” She’d seen nothing about it on
social media, but then, Quinn had never been on social media, and she’d never
been able to find Sarah, either—not that she’d checked recently because she
hadn’t. “I haven’t seen him since he was working as a lifeguard at the beach
after his first year of college and he had to swim out and save me from
drowning.” She didn’t add that she’d faked the whole episode just to get his
attention. She was mortified about that now and cringed at how obvious it
must’ve been to him.
“I’m surprised the gossip didn’t reach you all
the way down in Tampa,” Laurie said. “For a while, it was about the only thing
anyone around here could talk about.”
But who would tell her? Her mother wasn’t much
for gossip, which was ironic, considering she’d lived in Sable Beach for so long.
The town where Autumn had been raised took talking about their friends and
neighbors to a whole new level.
“Why would his divorce be such big news?” she
asked. Besides being one of the most popular boys in school, Quinn had been
handsome, athletic and at the top of his class—undoubtedly one of Sable Beach’s
finest. But still. Divorce was so commonplace it was hardly remarkable anymore.
And Quinn was thirty-nine. He’d been gone from this place—except for when he
visited his folks—for twenty-one years. How could what was going on in his life
be such a hot topic?
Laurie tilted her head toward Taylor and Caden
in such a way that Autumn understood she was hesitant to speak in front of
them. “There were some…extenuating circumstances. Have your mother tell you
about it later.”
“I want to
hear,” Caden protested.
“Why? We don’t even know him.” Taylor jumped
in before Autumn could respond, then Caden snapped at her to shut up and they
started arguing again.
“Don’t make Mimi regret inviting us.” Autumn
rolled her eyes to show how weary she was of this behavior.
“Should we go over and get you settled in?”
Mary asked. “Laurie offered to close the store tonight, so I’m free to start
dinner while you unpack.”
“Sure,” Autumn said. Once Caden and Taylor got
to the beach, maybe they’d mellow out and fall into the same companionable
rhythm they usually achieved when they came to Sable Beach.
Her mother’s house seemed the same, except
that its shingle siding was now white instead of green. It had needed a fresh
coat of paint, and the white looked clean and crisp. But as much as she loved
the update, Autumn was relieved to find that nothing else had changed. Visiting
Mary was like going back in time. Not many people could do that twenty years
after they’d left home.
Because it was such a small cottage, Caden had
to sleep on the couch, Taylor took Autumn’s old room next to Mary’s, and the
three of them shared the only bathroom, which was off the hallway. Autumn slept
above the detached garage, where she had her own bed and bath, thanks to Nick.
Because he’d typically had to work when she brought the kids, he’d never spent
more than a few days at a time in Sable Beach. That had caused more than a few
arguments over the years, so she’d readily agreed when he’d insisted they have their
own space for when he did come. She’d thought it might mean he’d accompany them
more often, or stay a little longer when he did. It made no difference in the
end, but he was the one who’d hired an architect to create the plans to finish
off the top of the garage, even though it had been Autumn who’d picked out the
finishes and colors.
A wave of melancholy washed over her as she
left the kids with her mother to get settled in at the main house, let herself
into the garage and climbed the narrow stairs at the back to the apartment,
where she’d be living for the next few months, by herself. As often as she’d
been here over the years, it felt strange to know that Nick would not be
visiting. At times, she was still so lost without him.
“Where are you?” she whispered as she walked
around, touching the things he’d touched. She’d come for Christmas without him,
but she and Taylor had shared her old room in the house. They could do that for
a week or so but not for three months—not without wanting to turn around and
head straight home.
She stopped in front of the dresser, where her
mother had put a picture of her family. She’d known her husband was getting
involved in something secretive, that a friend who was with the FBI had
recruited him for his knowledge of Ukraine. Because his parents had emigrated
from there, he’d known the language, was familiar with the customs and still
had a few relatives in the country. That made him useful in what had become a
very troubled region.
Although he couldn’t tell her exactly what he
was doing for the government, she guessed he was working in counterterrorism,
probably trying to infiltrate various radical groups. She’d read that the FBI
sometimes used civilians who were particularly adept with computers, or had
some specific knowledge or ability, to assist them.
Maybe he’d become a full-fledged spy, and
whoever was on the other side had discovered his activities. The FBI claimed
they hadn’t sent him to Ukraine to begin with, but she’d discovered that he’d
flown into Kyiv before disappearing and had no idea why he’d go there if not at
their request. If he wanted to reacquaint himself with his uncle and cousins,
he would’ve told her. Besides, the family he had there claimed they hadn’t
heard from him. She’d traveled halfway across the world to speak to them
face-to-face—not that the long, tiring trip had accomplished anything.
She lifted her suitcase onto the bed and was
unpacking her clothes when her mother came up. “The kids would like to go to
the beach before we have dinner, but I told them I’d rather they not go alone.”
“Mom, they’re sixteen and seventeen,” she
said. “Kids that age go to the beach by themselves all the time.”
“Still. I don’t mind walking down with them.”
That was her mother’s polite way of saying she
was afraid they wouldn’t be safe and felt the need to watch over them. Mary had
always been overprotective. But Autumn managed not to say anything. What would
it hurt for their Mimi to walk down to the water with them? There was no need
to transfer the suffocation she’d felt to her children, especially because
they’d had to put up with so much less of it. “Okay.”
“Would you like us to wait for you?”
“No, I’ll find you in a few minutes.”
With a nod, her mother turned to leave but
paused before descending the stairs. “It can’t be easy for you to stay out
here, knowing that Nick won’t be coming. Would you rather we make other
arrangements, like we did at Christmas? Have you stay in the house with us?”
Unless Nick suddenly showed up, she’d have to
brave it at some point, wouldn’t she? It might as well be now. “No. There’s not
enough room. Taylor and I both need our space.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Mom?”
She looked up. “Yes?”
“Before you go, tell me what Laurie was
referring to at the bookshop.”
“About…”
“Quinn and Sarah,” she said.
“Oh. No one really knows exactly what
happened,” her mother said.
“There must’ve been a story circulating.” And
she was eager to focus on something besides her own troubles for a change. She
could see Nick’s rain boots in the corner of the room and knew there would
probably come a time—in the not-too-distant future—when she would have to make
the difficult decision about what to do with them.
She couldn’t even imagine that. But she had a
whole houseful of his belongings in Tampa, and if he didn’t come back, she’d
have to decide what to do with all of it. Should she box it up and put it in
storage? Stubbornly continue to wait? And if so, for how long?
Her mother seemed as reluctant as ever to
repeat gossip, but she must’ve understood that what’d happened to Quinn might
create a good distraction, because she finally relented. “Sarah claims he was
having an affair, which caused her to fly into a jealous rage and stab him.”
This was not what Autumn had expected. “Did
you say stab him?”
Her mother frowned. “I’m afraid so.”
“But…he must be okay. Laurie said he was here,
helping his father run the restaurant.”
“She didn’t hit anything vital, thank
goodness. But I heard he spent a few days in the hospital, so his wounds
weren’t superficial, either.”
Autumn whistled as she imagined how bad their
marriage must’ve been for something like that to happen. “I thought they’d be
happy together. They dated for so long before they got married. It’s not as if
they didn’t know each other well.” She sank onto the bed next to her suitcase.
“Did he admit to cheating?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But you think he did—cheat, I mean.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Something had to have made her react so
violently.”
Mary never gave the benefit of the doubt to a
man. Autumn had noticed this before and assumed her father was to blame.
Although Mary refused to talk about the past—went rigid as soon as Autumn
mentioned her father—there were times, more of them as she got older, when she
found herself wondering who he was and what he was like. Before Nick went
missing, she’d told her mother that she was tempted to try to look him up, and
Mary had been so appalled—that Autumn would have any interest in him when he
was such a “bad person”—that she’d dropped the idea.
It was something she thought she might like to
revisit, though. Times had changed. Nowadays, a simple DNA test could possibly
tell her a great deal. And there were moments when she felt she should be
allowed to fill in those blanks.
But she hated to proceed without her mother’s
blessing. She owed Mary a degree of loyalty for being the parent who’d stuck
with her.
Finished unpacking, she put her empty suitcase
in the closet while trying to ignore Nick’s snorkel gear, which was also in
there, changed into her bathing suit and cover-up, slipped on her flip-flops
and grabbed her beach bag. She was on her way down the stairs when she heard
her phone buzz with an incoming call.
Assuming it would be her mother or one of her
children, wondering what was taking her so long, she dug it out of her bag so
that she could answer. But according to Caller ID, the person attempting to
reach her wasn’t a member of the family. It was Lyaksandro Olynyk, the
Ukrainian private investigator she’d hired to look for Nick.
It was seven hours later in that part of the
world. Why would he be calling her in the middle of the night?
Excerpted from The
Bookstore on the Beach by Brenda Novak, Copyright © 2021 by Brenda Novak, Inc. Published by MIRA Books.
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About
the Author:
Brenda Novak, a New York Times and USA Today
bestselling author, has penned over sixty novels. She is a five-time nominee
for the RITA Award and has won the National Reader's Choice, the Bookseller's
Best, the Bookbuyer's Best, and many other awards. She also runs Brenda Novak
for the Cure, a charity to raise money for diabetes research (her youngest son
has this disease). To date, she’s raised $2.5 million. For more about Brenda,
please visit www.brendanovak.com.
SOCIAL:
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