LJ Maas - Rebecca’s Cove

“I said, are you about ready to go?”

BJ realized that her own thoughts had so thoroughly captured her attention that she hadn’t heard a word Hobie had said. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll just—” She reached for her wallet, which she carried in the back pocket of her jeans, quickly realizing that her wallet wasn’t there because her jeans weren’t there. She was still wearing Mack’s sweatpants. “Shit!”

“What?”

“I forgot my billfold.”

“Oh, is that all? Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Hobie reached for the check that JoJo had placed on the table.

“I’ll pay you back,” BJ said in embarrassment. “I’m not worried about it.”

“Yeah, but the clothes I wanted to pick up. I just don’t want to—”

“Owe me?” Hobie finished BJ’s thought.

“Nothing personal. I don’t like being indebted to anyone. It makes me feel...I don’t know, obligated.”

“Heaven forbid,” Hobie said. “Look, let’s not make a big deal out of it. It’s not as if you plan to buy Versace sweatpants, right?”

BJ smiled in spite of herself. Then she remembered that such accommodating and unpretentious behavior annoyed her. She couldn’t let herself become enamored of Hobie’s disarming smile. BJ tried to remember the last time she had to guard herself against such a thing. When had it ever been easy to like someone, especially when that someone was a woman? The thing was, she couldn’t remember a time.

“I thought we were getting clothes.” BJ looked confused. “We are.”

BJ followed Hobie’s lead and eased herself out of the vehicle. They stood before an old Victorian home. Cedar shingles on the roof, bay windows, and bright white paint made it look like the place BJ had dreamed of turning into a bookstore. Unfortunately, there weren’t many of these structures in downtown Chicago. A large bay window presented a display of best-selling books. BJ smiled to herself when she saw the latest Harriet Teasley novel out front. “This looks like a bookstore.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Hobie grinned and continued. “Let’s just call it a private clothing store. The owners are the Dilby sisters.”

“What, those books in the window are just fakes and the whole front of the store opens up like a garage door, right? It opens up into some sort of bat cave?”

“Are you ever serious?” Hobie asked. “Let me think a minute. Hmm, no.”

“The Dilby sisters do run a small bookstore, but it’s a store within a store.”

“You mean a front.” “A private store.” “Right. A front.”

Hobie let out an audible sigh. “You make it sound like they make book on the horses in a backroom.”

“Sorry,” BJ said with a sheepish grin. She hadn’t expressed regret over her actions in years, yet this was at least the third time that day she had apologized to Hobie.

“Let me explain. If the locals bought their clothes in the same spots as the tourists did, we’d go broke. It’s either that or go to the mainland. Our answer is the Dilby sisters’ shop.” “I feel like I’m in a surreal spy novel.”

“Come on,” Hobie said as the two made their way up the stairs to the large porch.

“This house is a work of art. It’s magnificent.”

Hobie didn’t expect such a sincere tone from BJ. Everything was usually a joke to her. She turned to look up at the dreamy expression on BJ’s face.

BJ suddenly realized that Hobie was staring at her and she lowered her head. “I guess it’s just ’cause you don’t see homes like this in the city.”

“I suppose it’s just what you’re used to. It’s probably the same thing I felt when I visited Chicago. I got off the train at the Daley Center and just stood on the street corner like some hick, craning my neck to look up at the tall buildings.”

“You’ve been to Chicago?”

“Yes, I was just—” Hobie quickly shut her mouth, having forgotten to whom she was speaking. “I go there occasionally for seminars and such.”

BJ’s face took on an odd expression. “Huh” was all she said. They stood before the door with its etched glass window, and

BJ couldn’t help herself. “Is there a secret knock, maybe a Morse code signal I should use? Will I have to know the handshake?”

“Shut up,” Hobie said with a smile. She opened the door and they stepped into the air-conditioned shop.

“Hobie Lynn!” An older woman, perhaps in her seventies, waddled up to her. She was short and squat. Not exactly fat, but built in a compact fashion. She had close-cropped hair so black that it was apparent she colored it. She wore a blouse and skirt that clung around her middle a little too tightly. “What can we do for you today?”

“Hi, Helen. Actually, I’m here with—” Hobie was unable to finish the sentence. She had no idea what to call BJ Warren. What was she to Hobie? She could hardly call her a friend. Luckily, Helen Dilby saved her the embarrassment.

“Evelyn’s granddaughter. We were over to see Evie yesterday and she told us all about you, Miss Warren. It’s so good to finally meet you.” The old woman turned and shouted toward the back of the shop. “Katie, come see who’s here.”

BJ turned at the sound of a creaking door. Another woman, about the same age as Helen Dilby, walked through a set of bookshelves that parted mysteriously. BJ had to do a double take to see that what the older woman came out of was actually a strange-looking sliding door. The trompe-l’oeil design resembled an elegant library with a sitting area. It was amazing and BJ realized that because of the quality of the work, it must have cost the owners a pretty penny.

“See, I told you there was a bat cave,” BJ murmured to Hobie.

“Stop,” Hobie whispered back.

“Katie, this is Evie’s granddaughter, BJ,” Helen said. “Katherine Dilby,” the other woman said in a gravelly voice.

She grasped BJ’s hand and shook it brusquely.

Although the two older women looked to be about the same age, their physical appearance was as different as night and day. Katherine was tall and lean. Her hair looked to have been blond when she was younger. It was cropped so close to her head that it rose in even spikes. She wore a polo shirt and cotton slacks, but her clothes looked wrinkled and worn in comparison to Helen’s sharply pressed outfit.

“BJ needs to get a few things, especially some pants that she can cut one leg off,” Hobie said, nodding toward BJ’s cast.

“Oh, my. Evie didn’t say anything about that,” Helen said. “It’s a recent event. My grandmother doesn’t know about it yet.”

“I’m sure we can take care of everything you need, dear. Why don’t you follow Katie into the back? She’s the clothes expert, and she can show you where everything is.”

Katherine led the way through the sliding door. BJ looked in astonishment at the racks of clothing around her, then let out a low whistle as she looked around, taking in the selection. She spent the next thirty minutes picking out an assortment of clothes. Katherine’s no-nonsense and at times gruff attitude appealed to BJ, and the older woman was helpful in selecting the right sizes.

Hobie walked around the shelves of books. She spied the large display of romance novels and picked one up, examining the jacket. After reading the synopsis and a blurb about the book’s author, Harriet Teasley, Hobie tossed the book back onto the table. “Who buys this stuff? They call this writing?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, dear. I can’t keep Teasley novels on the shelf.”

“Go figure. So how was Evelyn when you saw her?” Hobie asked. “It’s been a couple of days since I’ve seen her.”

“You know that gal. All she does is talk about her granddaughter.” Helen looked toward the backroom and lowered her voice. “I heard that...well, that BJ isn’t exactly...um, she’s a little different from the quiet girl that Evie described.”

Hobie chuckled at the remark. “That’s the understatement of the year. I can hardly believe that woman is related to Evelyn.”

Helen smiled, almost to herself. “Well, you didn’t know Evie when she was your age. She was a lot different than she is now.”

“She couldn’t possibly have been anything like her granddaughter. One minute she’s so arrogant I just want to punch her lights out, then she gives you one of those charming looks or goes and says something nice or sweet, and I...I—”

“Just can’t help being attracted to her,” Helen finished. “Yeah,” Hobie said in a distracted fashion. “No!” she quickly

cried out. “Not in a million years, Helen. Get that smile off your face right now. That woman is just too, well, just too too for me. I can’t believe that Baylor Warren could ever change enough for me to want to spend more than passing moments with her.”

“Hmm, that’s understandable. There’s Noah, too. It’s funny, though. When I see the way that girl and you get on, it reminds me of Katie and me. Like fire and water most of the time, complete opposites. We spend more time snapping at each other, but it’s really only teasing. Funny the way life is, eh?”

Hobie smiled at the older woman. “Katherine seems to be able to deal with her well enough. She must be buying out the store back there. Oh, that reminds me, can you charge me for BJ’s things?”

“Oh?”

“She forgot her wallet. It’s nothing more than that.” “We can bill it directly to her if that would help.”

“I think she might like that a lot better. She’s not very big on having others do for her. I’d be surprised if Katherine wasn’t tearing her hair out right about now.”

“Speaking of which, you did tell BJ about Katie before you left them alone, didn’t you?”

“What about her?”

“I mean Albert. Did you tell BJ about Albert?”